Nevertheless it is never possible to tell when one may run across a rare bird; and even birds that are not rare now and then show marked individual idiosyncrasy in turning up, or even breeding, in unexpected places. At Sagamore Hill, for instance, I never knew a purple finch to breed until the summer of 1906. Then two pairs nested with us, one right by the house and the other near the stable. My attention was drawn to them by the bold, cheerful singing of the males, who were spurred to rivalry by one another’s voices. In September of the same year, while sitting in a rocking-chair on the broad veranda looking out over the Sound, I heard the unmistakable “ank-ank” of nuthatches from a young elm at one corner of the house. I strolled over, expecting to find the white-bellied nuthatch, which is rather common on Long Island. But instead there were a couple of red-bellied nuthatches, birds familiar to me in the Northern woods, but which I had never before seen at Sagamore Hill. They were tame and fearless, running swiftly up and down the tree-trunk and around the limbs while I stood and looked at them not ten feet away. The two younger boys ran out to see them; and then we hunted up their picture in Wilson. I find, by the way, that Audubon’s and Wilson’s are still the most satisfactory large ornithologies, at least for nature lovers who are not specialists; of course any attempt at serious study of our birds means recourse to the numerous and excellent books and pamphlets by recent observers. Bendire’s large work gives admirable biographies of all the birds it treats of; unfortunately it was never finished.