d, they both came and looked at me, but went
about their business quite unmindful of me.

As I had seen from the outset, the male did almost all the building.
When his spouse came in sight he burst out into a tender joyous love
song. She went to the nest now and again, but generally when she came it
was to sun herself on the bare perch tree, where she dressed her plumes
or merely sat with crest raised and her soft gray feathers fluffed about
her feet, while waiting for her mate to get leisure to take a run with
her.

When he had finished his stint and she was not about, he would take his
turn on the perch tree, his handsome glossy black coat shining in the
sun. If an unwitting neighbor lit on his tree he would flatten his
crest and dash down indignantly, but for the most part he perched
quietly except to make short sallies into the air for insects, sometimes
singing as he went; or he just warbled to himself contentedly, what
sounded like the chattering run of a swallow on the wing. One day we had
quite a conversation. His simplest call note was like the call of a
young robin, and while I answered him he gave his note seventeen times
in one minute, and eleven times in the next half minute.

The birds had a great variety of calls and songs, most of which were
vivacious and cheering and seemed attuned to the warmth and brightness
of the California sunshine. The quality of the love song was rich and
flute-like.

The male phainopepla seemed to enjoy life in general and his work in
particular. He frequently sang to himself when going for material; and
once, apparently, when on the nest. When he was building I could see his
black head move about between the leaves. Like the gnatcatchers, he used
only fine bits of material, but he did not drill them in as they did. He
merely laid them in, or at most wove them in gently. Now and then, as
the black head moved in front, the black tail would tilt up behind at
the back of the nest as if the bird were moulding; but there was
comparatively little of that. When completed, the nest was a soft felty
structure.

When working, the male would fly back and forth from the ground to the
nest, carrying his bits of plant stem, oak blossom, and other fine
stuff. He worked so rapidly that it kept me busy recording his visits.
He once went to the nest four times in four minutes; at another time,
seventeen times in a little over an hour. Sometimes he stayed only half
a minute; when he stayed t