1629. little inarticulate protest in a mild sort of way and waits for the next opportunity patiently. Feb. 22nd. (Sunrise 6:53, sunset 5:55). 11:45 A.M. There was much early thrasher song about 7 o'clock. A foggy morning. Neo and mate here about 7:30, but left soon; Neo to sing off to the N.E. and the N.W. At 11:30 both were home and were fed. Neo is the most dishevelled thrasher I remember having seen outside of the moulting season. His latest broken tail feather now drags upon the ground and the feathers on his neck are thin. Two stubs of rectrices are plainly visible, and there may be more. Brokenwing has been (as is now usual) singing all the morning To be certain that it was he, I went down and approached him to with- in 20 feet while he was singing. He is a good performer. Rhody has not been seen in the garden, but at 9:30, was sitting on the west fence and took worms from hand. I went back a little later; he cried plaintively many times, so I gave him meat. He has not been heard to sing.(56°). At precisely 12:00M. Neo left for the Robinsons'. Rhody was now sitting grumpily under a peach tree near his nesting operations. When I went up to him and spoke to him, he made a bluff at picking up twigs and going to work; but, although he looked up at his nest as if to carry through, he relapsed into his previous hopeless looking attitude, so I left him. At 1:45 he was sitting quietly in his nest doing nothing, but cried when he saw me. He came down and sat in the sun on a perch, which I had located for his convenience, half-way to his house, and sat there comfortably until 2 o'clock, when he suddenly dived down, rain rapidly along the path to the east and disappeared. In a half minute he was back with a forked twig. This was the commencement of renewed nest-building and he worked diligently for the next hour. I took advantage of the fine picture he made in his running and flying with nest material, to set up the motion picture camera and try for some slow-motion pictures. As I took the last "shot" I promised him a mouse and, almost as if he understood, he stopped work and came to me but, at the same time, keeping a wary watch on a red-tailed hawk circling high overhead. The mouse went through the (at this season) usual ritual. While at the mirror with it, he was shown a salamander about nine inches long and was at once interested enough to stop his dis- play and pick it up while still holding the mouse. He soon dropped the mouse and killed the salamander and then resumed his ceremonial march with the latter, abandoning the mouse much to my surprise. Since I have considered that he regarded salamanders as inferior food as judged by nearly four years of his behavior, I thought that, the most to be expected was that he would eat the amphibian, take the mouse again and go on tour with it. But that is not what happened. He took the salamander over the fence to the north-east, made a long march back to the west, came back over the fence and pro- ceeded to exhibit his catch proudly at various windows. All this time the slimy creature's tail had glued itself to the bird's breast feathers, and was pulling a bunch of them out into a sort of dewlap.