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Sept., 1910 NOTES ON REGURGITATION 167 not, I am inclined to think that probably very many more of our common birds feed fresh food than we have been led to believe. It seems to me that it is worth the while of every observant bird student to give particular attention to this object of field observation, that we may have more knowledge on the subject. RO U(iE E T NOIR By W. LEON DAWSON AY days lack one of being "so rare as a day in June"; but if oi51ogists had their way there would be sixty-one of them insted of thirty-one. Yet the luck of the oi51ogist is as variable as that of the proverbial fisherman, and certain favored hours are likely to stand out in memory from a background of profitless days. I am no believer in astrology, and do not court the sweet influence of the stars, but if anyone will explain to me why a body can find half a dozen choice birds' nests hand running one day and then hunt over the same sort of cover the day following only to return empty-handed, I--well, I will pay respect- ful attention. "Luck?" Yes, but what is luckĀ ? A mere name for our ignorance of causes. "Providence" is scarcely better in this connection, however devoutly uttered. All is Providence in a large, true sense, but we show disrespect to the Almighty if we charge him too strictly with interference among a mass of still unknown second causes. I think the explanation is rather psychological. We are keyed up to respond to certain impressions on certain days, and a "run of luck" follows. We go thru the same motions on a subsequent occasion, but we respond to different stimuli. Our eyes are veiled and Our ears muffled to the sights and sounds that we are supposed to be interested in, nay, the very ones that we are striving desperately to interest ourselves in. The difference is inside us where we can't get at it. After all, then, perhaps "luck" is a good enough name for this variable and unbiddable psychological factor. But it was in no mood of pale philosophizing that I dropt. off the first morning trolley at Clover Creek, south of Tacoma, on the 12th of May last. A distant Chickadee "prospect" gave direction and excuse to this morning's jaunt, but there was no hurry. A delicious fragrance of the prairie air and the singing of birds in the fir groves invited dalliance. The Russet-backt Thrush (f]yloc/chla ustulata), belated, had just reported in from the South and was trying the copses with soft quits. A Western Tanager (]?iranga ludoviciana), also days behind the schedule, pilicked languidly. Warblers of rare breeds, chiefly Audubons (Dendroica audu- boni), Black-throated Grays (D. nigrescens), and Hermits (D. occidentalis), lispt from the tree-tops; while one gorgeous Townsend (D. townsendi) came fluttering down the sides of a great green spire for close inspection. Within the grove itself Hammond (Empidonax hammondi) and Western Flycatchers (E. di?cdis) gave a comparative trial of their different notes. That of hammondi is smart and slightly querulous, in contrast with the lazier, drawling note of dOffc1is. Moreover, it is always accented on the last syllable, sewlck' or cleotry', whereas that of dt?cils begins rather explosively and continues with a musical sibilant drawl, terminating sharply but without accent, psss' w?l, psui' Jut, or swee' ut. Our woods are never noisy like those of the East. Most of the vocal offerings, indeed, are all too modest. But we do not complain. It may be the fact that most of our species "catalog high" that makes us content. Certainly the sense of high