50 THE CONDOR Vol. XIX of the Varied Thrush, rarest of singers, could be distinguished coming from the top of the ridge above. The back piazza that afforded a beautiful view of the blue Bay framed between conifers, also gave glimpses of some of the forest birds attracted to the dense young spruces back of the house. The Chestnut-backed Chickadee was one of the most interesting in its protective coloration, the dark flat brown of its back looking like applied cloth in the dark forest where, while it did not match anything, the patch seemed to detach itsel? from the form of the bird. toning into the somber forest background as effectively as did the dark browns bf the northwest coast Wrens and Song Sparrows. When a family of Chicka- dee young were seen trailing after their parents on the edge of the clearing I noted that the white patch on the side of the head was clear and keen enough to help the brood keep together. But it_ spite of that light touch the Chestnut- backs seemed peculiarly characteristic birds of the dark Humid Coast forests, and in the rainy season, nothing daunted, they flitted about the dripping branches of the Sitka spruces singing their cheerful Chickadee ditty--Swee-ah- zee'-zee-zec, Swee'-ah-swee-see ?. Around the house and in the low greenery on the edge of the clearings in early June I was continually hearing or meeting with the Golden Pileolated Warbler--charming little creature with its jet black cap, vivid golden dress, and pretty ways--peering out at me from between the green leaves and then with a flat chip dashing out across the opening like a flash of bright sunshine. Often when the bird was invisible I recognized its loud rapid accelerated and pos- sibly rather harsh chat-ah-chat-ah-chat-ah-chat-ah-cha, at times preluded by a
fine liquid run that was delightfully ?nusical.
In the young. Sitka spruces around the house and on the edge of the clear- ing, a family of Golden-crowned Kinglets were often seen fluttering up under the long drooping terminal sprays of a spruce or flitting about among the dark branches, busy little mortals, appearing only to disappear, before I could focus my glass on them. Once as one of them tell through the air I caught a glimpse of the golden crown of the adult and again caught the white line over the eye of a young one, perhaps the very one that entered our open door that afternoon. Another day when one I took to be a Kinglet parent had crossed the trail to a low tree and wished its family to follow, it gave a small double note that I had not heard before and the whole band went obediently trooping across the open to join it. On a warm afternoon the little family was found in the shelter. of a sunny grove of low trees on the edge of the garden, the grove where the Screech Owl family afterwards slept in the day time, and where blue sky could be seen through the chinks, high ferns making an attractive enclosure. They were a happy busy little family going about full of small talk in high-pitched notes such as ziz-iz-iz-iz-iz and zeegle-zeck, tiny dainty creatures, the young ones still with fuzzy heads. The characteristic thin ti-ti, tititi, was often heard in the tall conifers, and late one afternoon when coming up the board walk I found a family apparently going to roost for the night in the top of a big Sitka spruce so high overhead that it made my neck ache to watch them as they flit- ted about with a flip of the wing and finally disappeared in the deep shadows of the thick branches. On the edge of the vegetable garden the second week in June when we were still getting drizzling foggy days, a family of the musical Seattle Wrens, with long barred tail and white line over the eye were going about together,