thrashing of wings in the direction of the nest--evidently a combat of some sort in which one of the contestants was Brownie and the other a much larger bird. I hurried up a ladder leaning against the wind- screen, and as expected, found Rhody at the nest and B trying to drive him away. They separated, R coming up to perch on the screen near me and B, much disturbed, on a nearby branch. Rhody finally flew to the ground with a parting, rattling boo and B returned to the nest and began sub-song. The scolding of wren-tits, bush-tits and wrens indicated that Rhody could be found in the glade, and I found him there innocently preening, oblivious to the protests of the smaller birds that had gathered about him in the surrounding thicket. I stood 6 feet from him, watching the operation. He oiled each tail feather individually, his wing coverts and flight feathers. He rubbed the side of his head on his oil gland and then rubbed it on as much of his neck as he could reach and on his breast and sides. He made a thorough job of it, and at about 11 A.M. wandered off to the cage slowly, and at 11:25 was still playing about it, occasionally inspecting himself, rather casually, in the mirror. It is quite clear that I now have a Rhody-Brownie problem on my hands. Brownie's nest is well shaped and partly lined, but less compact than a completed structure. The acorn is no longer in it. About 12M. Rhody went up into a large ceanothus and settled for a good rest about 2 feet from one of his houses, facing it. While awaiting developments, I had no difficulty in finding seven lizards in plain sight on a wall, none more than 40 feet from him, and 3 within 15; so he has not yet consumed the local supply. 1:10 P.M. Rhody is still sitting in exactly the same spot. I know of no other bird that has developed to a like extent the capacity for doing nothing so thoroughly and over such long periods of time.