If a sharp lookout be kept for these ruby-crowned migrants, that too often
slip away to the south before we know they have come, we notice that they
appear about a fortnight ahead of the golden-crested species, since the mild,
soft air of our Indian summer is exactly to their liking. At this season there
is nothing in the bird's "thin, metallic call-note, like a vibrating wire," to
indicate that he is one of our finest songsters. But listen for him during the
spring migration, when a love-song is already ripening in his tiny throat.
What a volume of rich, lyrical melody pours from the Norway spruce, where the
little musician is simply practising to perfect the richer, fuller song that
he sings to his nesting mate in the far north! The volume is really
tremendous, coming from so tiny a throat. Those who have heard it in northern
Canada describe it as a flute-like and mellow warble full of intricate phrases
past the imitating. Dr. Coues says of it: "The kinglet's exquisite
vocalization defies description."
Curiously enough, the nest of this bird, that is not at all rare, has been
discovered only six times. It would appear to be over large for the tiny bird,
until we remember that kinglets are wont to have a numerous progeny in their
pensile, globular home. It is made of light, flimsy material -- moss, strips
of bark, and plant fibre well knit together and closely lined with feathers,
which must be a grateful addition to the babies, where they are reared in
evergreens in cold, northern woods.
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