As I look over these stores of acorns, I am at a loss to think for what purpose the birds place them in the holes. In Cassin’s ‘Birds of America’ he quotes from Dr. Heerman and Mr. Kelly’s ‘Excursions in California.’ Both writers positively state that these birds stow away acorns for winter provisions, and the latter that he has seen them doing it: ‘I have frequently paused from my chopping to watch them with the acorns in their bills, and have admired the adroitness with which they tried it at different holes, until they found one of its exact calibre.’ I have seen the acorns in the holes, and the birds that are said to put them there, and have no right to doubt the statements of other observers; but it seems strange to me, that I cannot find a single acorn exhibiting any evidence of being eaten during the winter. These were stored on the previous fall; winter has passed away, and yet not a seed has been eaten, as far as I can see. I opened the stomachs of the two birds I shot, but not a trace of vegetable matter was in either of them. Subsequently I killed and examined the stomachs of a great many specimens, but never detected anything save insect remains. Does this woodpecker _ever_ eat acorns? I think _not_. More than this, when the insects die, or go to sleep during the cold, snowy, biting winter months, the woodpeckers, like all other sensible birds, go southwards, and have no need to store up a winter supply, as do quasi-hibernating mammals. Then it occurred to me, that if they really do take the trouble to bore holes, a work of great time and labour, and into every hole carefully drive a _sound_ acorn that they never make any use of, it is simply idle industry. As a rule, birds are not such thriftless creatures. I had no opportunity of watching the birds in acorn-time—hence this storing is still to me a mystery that needs further explanation. I came suddenly on a flock of yellow-headed blackbirds (_Xanthocephalus icterocephalus_), sitting on a clump of bushes skirting a small pool. As they sit amidst the bright-green foliage, they remind me of blossoms; the intense black of the body-plumage shows out so conspicuously against the orangelike yellow of the head, that the colours seem too defined for a bird’s livery, and more like the freaks of colouring Nature indulges in when tinting orchideous flowers. I imagine this to be their utmost range northwards, for I never saw them after, although they are frequent visitors to Texas, Illinois, and Mexico. Strike the trail of a grizzly, follow it for some distance, but fail in coming up with my large-clawed friend.