A few miles west of Portland, Maine, in a clearing which had once been part of an abandoned farm but now given over to white birches, I found these birds very numerous in the first week of June. When I first discovered the little colony I thought they were Rubycrown Kinglets for they are restless and almost as active as those gray-green midgets. That grove belonged to them and from the tops of the birches their strong peculiar song fairly dominated the area. I lay under one of the trees for nearly three hours, eating lunch and smoking, and I believe there was not a single minute when one of the birds was silent.

It was not difficult to locate their nests for the birds apparently mistook me for some kind of a cow and one home within fifteen feet of where I sat was visited repeatedly by the male, probably to see that the lady was attending to her duties.