it was made in June, and the birds, as a
rule, breed earlier than that month. Some were placed in bushes, some in
willow and cottonwood trees, and others in pines; and the birds
themselves were almost ubiquitous, being found on the plains, among the
foothills, and up in the mountains as far as the timber-line, not only
close to human neighborhoods, but also in the most inaccessible
solitudes.

[2] In this volume the author has made use of the terminology
usually employed in describing bird music. Hence such words as
"song," "chant," "vocal cords," etc., are of frequent occurrence. In
reality the writer's personal view is that the birds are whistlers,
pipers, fluters, and not vocalists, none of the sounds they produce
being real voice tones. The reader who may desire to go into this
matter somewhat technically is referred to Maurice Thompson's
chapter entitled "The Anatomy of Bird-Song" in his "Sylvan Secrets,"
and the author's article, "Are Birds Singers or Whistlers?" in "Our
Animal Friends" for June, 1901.

In one of my excursions along a stream below Colorado Springs, one nest
was found that was still occupied by the brooding bird. It was a bulky
affair, perhaps half as large as a bushel basket, placed in the crotch
of a tree about thirty feet from the ground. Within this commodious
structure was a globular apartment which constituted the nest proper.
Thus it was roofed over, and had an entrance at each side, so that the
bird could go into his house at one doorway and out at the other, the
room being too small to permit of his turning around in it. Thinking the
nest might be occupied, in a tentative way I tossed a small club up
among the branches, when to my surprise a magpie sprang out of the nest,
and, making no outcry, swung around among the trees, appearing quite
nervous and shy. When she saw me climbing the tree, she set up such a
heart-broken series of cries that I permitted sentiment to get the
better of me, and clambered down as fast as I could, rather than prolong
her distress. Since then I have greatly regretted my failure to climb up
to the nest and examine its contents, which might have been done without
the least injury to the owner's valuable treasures. A nestful of
magpie's eggs or bairns would have been a gratifying sight to my
bird-hungry eyes.

One bird which is familiar in the East as well as the West deserves
attention on account of its choice of haunts.