The article in September O. and O. about Flying Squirrels reminded me of my experience with a tame Gray Squirrel that I had last year. I had a number of stuffed birds standing on the mantel in my room, unprotected. The Sciurus had the run of the room, and one day took it into his head to gnaw off the bills of every bird he could find. He must have eaten them, for I could find no trace of them anywhere, and I was afraid at first he had poisoned himself, but no evil effects followed. One day while out collecting I saw a Kingbird engaged in a fight with a Great-crested Flycatcher, and in a few moments the latter fell to the ground completely exhausted, and probably injured internally, as I could find no marks on it except a badly bunged eye. I took it home and placed it in a cage open at the top, and after a few minutes absence, returned just in time to find that Master Sciurus had climbed into the cage, killed the bird and was engaged in gnawing its bill, ruining its value as a specimen, for which I had intended it. After that I was careful to leave no birds where he could get at them.

In the summer of last year I found a nest which I have never been able to identify, as no bird was near. It was in New Castle Co., Del., and was placed in the centre of a clump of hazel bushes, growing in a swamp, so that I had to wade at least fifty yards before reaching it. It resembled a Wood Thrush’s nest, being built of mud, but was an inch deeper than any nest of that kind I ever saw. The diameter was about the same. It was placed about two feet above the water and contained four eggs, much like a runt Catbird’s egg, and of a dark blue color, with a slight greenish cast. The latter is hardly distinguishable when placed beside a Catbird’s egg. Now can any reader of O. and O. tell me what bird it belongs to? It was not a case of a Catbird laying in an old nest, for I had been through that same thicket several times before, and would have seen it. If any one can cite an instance of a Catbird building a mud nest, that may solve the question, and the slight differences in size, shape and color might be passed over as accidental. In visiting a colony of Purple Grackles I found another curious set. There is no doubt of their identity for I saw the female on the nest, which was a common P. G’s nest. There were four eggs; three of them dark brown, scratched, mottled and blotched all over with darker brown. The fourth was a light olive green, with large blotches of light brown or bronze. There were no scratches of any kind on this egg and all the colors were very light, though entirely different from a normal Grackle egg, as well as from the other three. An experienced collector to whom I showed one of the dark eggs (without telling its history) pronounced it a Nighthawk’s (Chordeiles popetue) egg. I don’t suppose this is a new species, but it certainly is a curious freak of nature.

I would like to correct a couple of the printer’s errors in my note on the Pigeon Hawk’s nest in O. and O. for September. The date, “March 2” should read “March 22,” and in the sentence “marked unevenly with five dots of reddish brown” read “fine dots.”—Charles D. Gibson, Renovo, Pennsylvania.

A Surprised Bluejay.

At the back end of my store, and just outside of a window, is a box on which we mix the dough to feed the chicks. On Sunday morning when I shaved myself I took my mirror to the window so I could have a good light. Just as I finished my work I noticed an old Bluejay drop down on the box and begin eating the dough from the pan of chicken feed. As I was on the opposite side of the glass it did not see me. I looked at it for a moment and then “for fun” turned the mirror around so the glass would face the bird. It was just taking a mouthful of dough as it looked up and saw, as it supposed, another Jay with its mouthful also. It seemed greatly astonished and failed to swallow its food for some time, but soon did so, and then in Bluejay style “bowed,” as much as to say “good morning, sir.” As a matter of course the glass made the other Jay bow also, and the next salutation was “kechunk! kechunk!” I suppose that is Jay language, but I do not understand it. Then it proceeded to fill its mouth full of dough again and its shadow did the same. This seemed to anger it very much, and after giving one Bluejay war-whoop, it flew against the glass. Its astonished look at the result of its attack was laughable. The first thing it did was to retreat to the farther side of the box, and from there eye the antagonist. After gazing for some time its hunger overcome it and it took another mouthful, “as did its shadow.” The Jay stopped with full mouth, turned its head first one way then the other, and finally hopped around the glass and stood face to face with me. Our faces were not more than six inches apart, and I never expect to see a more astonished look than was in its eyes just then. But one look was enough; and after another big Jay yell it made as good time from there as a Bluejay ever made, I guess; and my dough has remained undisturbed ever since.—S. H. N., McLeanborough, Ill., in Germantown Telegraph.

Ridgway Ornithological Club.

A meeting of the Ornithologists of Chicago was held on Friday, September 7, and an organization effected. The society adopted the name of The Ridgway Ornithological Club of Chicago, in honor of Mr. Robert Ridgway, Curator of Ornithology at the United States National Museum. A constitution and by-laws were adopted, and officers were duly elected as follows: President, Dr. J. W. Velie; Vice-President and Treasurer, George F. Morcom; Secretary, H. K. Coale; Curator, Joseph L. Hancock; Librarian, F. L. Rice.