The Least Tit, introduced to the notice of ornithologists by Mr. Townsend in 1837, is exclusively a denizen of the country bordering on the Pacific Ocean. It inhabits the whole region stretching from Fort Steilacoom, in Washington Territory, to Fort Tejon, in California. According to Dr. Garnbel, it is not only abundant throughout California, but is also an occupant of the Rocky Mountains. But as this author wrote at a period anterior to that which marked the separation of this species from its nearest kin—the Plumbeous Tit—it is believed by Dr. Coues that those nice shades of difference which climate or other influences have impressed upon the Rocky Mountain birds were unobserved by him, and that he was thus led to consider the two species identical.

Although these birds have been deemed migratory in Washington Territory, as the writings of Drs. Cooper and Suckley would lead us to infer, yet there is strong evidence for believing that it is not wholly the case. From observations made by Mr. Townsend, we learn that they are quite common during the winter, and may be seen in great numbers hopping around among the bushes, or hanging head downwards from leafless twigs after the fashion of other Titmice. While thus engaged in search of the pupa of insects, they are very reckless, and keep up a continual twittering. Their notes are rapidly enunciated, and have been likened to the words thshish tslmt-tsee-twee, the last two syllables bearing a slight resemblance to the concluding strains of our Eastern Chickadee.

While gleaning for food, these noisy beings go in companies. Troops of fifties and sixties, and some say hundreds, travel through the woods, and make their otherwise cheerless depths resound with din and chatter. Nor do they journey alone, for they are often accompanied by the Kinglets and other kindred species. So intent are they upon the procurement of food at such times, that they seem utterly unconscious of danger. It is not uncommon for a bystander to be so surrounded by one of these flocks as to be almost able to capture the birds with the hand.

Nuttall, in speaking of this species, affirms that it arrives on the banks of the Willamette River, in Oregon, about the fifteenth of May, which would lead one to believe that even in this State it is a migrant. As this date is about the period of breeding in slightly lower latitudes, may not this writer have been somewhat hasty in expressing his opinion? In the East, birds that are reputed permanent residents during mild, open winters, can be seen in moderate abundance in accustomed haunts, and at all times. But let the weather become severe, and there will be a notable scarcity of birds. They do not certainly migrate to warmer regions, but seek hidden recesses or nooks where they can obtain the necessary shelter and protection. A recurrence of warmer days, after a little, soon causes them to return to old, familiar haunts, which could not be, had they journeyed to lower and semi-tropical climes. Perhaps some such event had occurred on the occasion to which Nuttall alludes, or a short time before, or the birds, by reason of a paucity of food-stuffs, may have been forced to move to adjoining localities in the same latitude, and had just returned for purposes of nesting. If such was the case, an eye-witness of the scene would be likely to pronounce it a veritable migration, not knowing the facts.

But whether these birds do actually migrate or not, matters little for present purposes. What concerns us most, is their history at the mating time. Of this we know little. But not unlike their many kin, the desire for food is so strong, that most of the time in early spring is spent in its search. The precarious lives which most migratory birds are-forced to lead during the unprolific season of the year, when the reign of plenty begins, forces them into habits of gormandizing. Life seems to have acquired new zest. The collection of food, and its application to the wants of the body, exercise supreme control, all other considerations being swallowed up thereby. But this cannot last long. Satiety, like pleasure, soon o'erdoes itself, and reason comes to the rescue.

A few weeks of such a life are enough. Grown weary of its monotony, and surfeited with delights, the flocks now dissolve into pairs. All is now a scene of bustle and activity. Actuated by amatory influences, the males seek themselves partners, and matrimonial relations are assumed. There is good reason to believe that mating happens early during some seasons. Dr. Cooper mentions the finding of a nest on the first of March, which would lead us to infer that it had occurred during the preceding month. Finished structures in our collection from Santa Paula, California, which were discovered by Prof. B. W. Evermann, bear the respective dates of April 14 and 17. Making allowances for building, it is probable that the sexes do not pair until the middle or the last of March. Of the precise time we are left in darkness. Nor are we the wiser about the general behavior of the birds, much less those pleasing little episodes of bird-life which are then called into existence.

Having mated, the happy couple start off together in quest of a suitable bush or tree in which to build. The live oak, the willow, occasionally the mistletoe, and perhaps others, are selected. These structures are sometimes suspended from a forked twig, but more generally from a single branch. A remarkable peculiarity about their building is the elevation at which their dwellings are placed. The height varies from four to eight feet, and we cannot find that the latter distance has been exceeded.

Few nests, if any, surpass in beauty and comfort the nest of this species. It is the most artistic of all pensile structures, and resembles an old-fashioned silken purse. In form, texture and finish it is a perfect model of architectural design and skill. When we consider its size, the durability and smoothness of its outside periphery, and coziness of interior, we are lost in wonder and admiration. What ingenuity and perseverance are here displayed! It seems almost impossible that such wee specimens of the feathered creation could have built such a monument. But the naked truth, real and substantial, lies before us. When we contemplate this wonderful work of art, we know not whether to admire most the indefatigable industry of the builders, or their cunning workmanship.

A typical structure before us is closely and evenly woven of slender spears of grass, fine rootlets, fragments of branching and crustaceous lichens, small stems, fibrous rootlets, down, vegetable cotton and mosses. These substances are pretty regularly distributed, like the colors in a carpet, so that the fabric presents uniformity in appearance. The interior is lined with down and other soft vegetable materials, producing thereby a chamber of which the daintiest Sybarite of the palmy days of Magna GrÆcia would delight to be the proud possessor. Some structures are cozily lined with large masses of feathers, which are made to project from the entrance, and which, in some instances, become a part of the walls of the building itself. Ordinarily, the nest retains the greenish-gray color which the mosses and lichens impart to its exterior, long after it has been detached from its point of suspension. The length of these fabrics varies from six to nine inches. The width is generally three inches, and the thickness of the walls, three-fourths of an inch. Inside, the depth ranges from four to five inches, according to the length of the structure, and width, from seven-eighths to one inch. The entrance is most generally near the top, and measures one inch in diameter. The specimen from which the drawing is made, is six inches long, nearly cylindrical, with rounded extremities, and about three inches in width. The walls are an inch thick, and the opening, which is near the top, is exactly one inch in diameter. For convenience we were compelled to reduce the dimensions, and put it slightly in the background. The female bird, which has a length of 4.30 inches, and an expanse of wings of 2.15, is proportionally diminished, while the male occupies a position in front, and appears with uncurtailed proportions. The nest is represented as hanging from a branch, a species of cherry, which is popularly known as the soft-leaved cherry.

We mention, in this connection, a very fine nest of this species, which has lately come into our possession, through the kindness of Prof. Evermann, of Indiana. This nest was suspended from a branch of the live oak, and was discovered on the fifteenth of April, 1880. It is largely composed of down, grass-stems and spears of the same, lichens, mosses, vegetable down and cotton, on the outside, and is comfortably lined with the down and wool of plants. In structure and composition it resembles all other nests of this species, but differs therefrom in form and dimensions. This beautiful fabric measures twenty-two inches in length, and is somewhat shaped like an elongated spindle. It is three inches wide in the middle, one and a half at the summit, and two and a half at the base. The opening is three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and placed fully five inches from the top of the nest. From the entrance to the bottom of the chamber, the cavity does not perceptibly widen, but maintains the width at the mouth. This affects the thickness of the walls, which is greatest in the middle, and least above. But owing to their elasticity, they can be made to conform to the volume of either occupant. The depth of the cavity is twelve inches. When we consider the size of this nest, it does not seem possible that such diminutive specimens of bird-life could have the enterprise and courage to enter into such a gigantic project, and the patience and perseverance to carry it to completion. Prof. Evermann does not inform us whether it was accomplished by the pair of occupants, or by them with the assistance of others. Even the ordinary structure is so wondrously large compared with the individual bulk of the builders, as to suggest to the mind of Dr. Cooper the possibility of its being the result of the united labors of an entire flock. What would our worthy friend say should he meet with another just like the one we have described? We think he would be inclined to attribute it to the labor of several flocks, or else imagine it the work of supernatural beings. Such disparity as exists between the cyclopean monument before us and the pigmy architects thereof, would almost persuade us to one or the other conclusion.

From information gleaned from the recorded observations of others, and from personal knowledge of closely-related species, we incline to the opinion that these birds manifest a great fondness for their homes, and guard them with the most jealous care. Nuttall makes mention of a circumstance occurring under his notice, which confirms this belief. During one of his excursions, he met with a male-bird, whose overanxiety about the safety of the nest induced him to keep a lookout for anything that might happen. Following his guide, who, though unwilling to expose its whereabouts, was driven to it by an irresistible influence, he came to a low bush, where, dangling from a branch, and only about four feet from the ground, flashed upon his vision the lovely spectacle. It was a beautiful affair, in shape like a long purse, and having a neat circular opening near the top which answered for a doorway. The lint of plants, moss and down entered into its manufacture, and within there was a soft lining of feathers. This nest contained six perfectly white treasures, which were only awaiting the mysterious and miraculous powers of a few more days, perhaps hours, of heat, to transform them into restless, active, yet helpless beings. When a bird is killed, we are told, others will gather around it with manifestations of anxiety, calling plaintively upon it to follow them in their sports and wanderings. So fearless do they become at such times that it is almost possible to take them by the hand. Assuredly, such exhibitions of sorrow and solicitude as we have depicted, are not only to be met with then, but also, to an infinitely greater extent, on those more trying occasions when their homes are about being desecrated and despoiled by sacrilegious hands.

The eggs of the Least Tit are quite small, beautifully oval in shape, and of a pure, unspotted white color. They slightly vary in dimensions. In a set of five which we have before us, the largest measures .57 of an inch in length, and .44 in width; the smallest, .56 by .45 inches. The average measurement is .57 by .44 of an inch. The number of eggs constituting a complement ranges from five to nine. Nothing has been stated in regard to the number of broods annually raised, but it is probable the species is single-brooded.

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