Little is known of the winter range of this supposed race of T. alicioe. Specimens determined
by Mr. Ridgway and Mr. Henshaw as T. alicioe bicknelli are in the Henshaw Collection from
Washington, D.C. (May 17, 1884), and from Chicago (jE. TV. Nelson). Mr. Loomis records it from
Chester Co., N. Carolina, on May 6th, on the northward migration, and again on the voyage south,
on the 17th of September; and the winter route of the small race of the Grey-cheeked Thrush is
marked by him through South Carolina by its occurrence there on the 17th of September, and again
on the spring migration on May 6th (Auk, iv. p. 261). The only time that the bird has been
recorded from further south is by Mr. Cory (Auk, viii. p. 178), who has received specimens from
Cay Sal in the Bahamas, procured by Mr. Cyrus S. Winch in May 1891.
That T. alicice and T. bicknelli nest in nearly the same latitudes is admitted in the above notes
from Nova Scotia, and it seems more than probable that in the mountains of New England
the latter bird finds the same conditions of climate during the breeding-season that other individuals
obtain further to the north, and I have grave doubts as to T. bicknelli being really separable from
T. alicioe.
Mr. Bicknell has described the finding of this small Thrush in the following interesting
account
. “ That there remained unrecognized at this late day a bird regularly inhabiting one of the most
populous portions of our country; or, indeed, that a species of eminently boreal habitat during its
breeding-season, and not known to occur at all at such time within the limits of the United States,
should have a representative race regularly breeding in our midst, are facts for which we were little
prepared On June 15, 1881, nearing the summit (the highest peak of the Catskills, 4205
feet altitude) of Slide Mountain in Ulster County (N.Y.), the forests of a more northern latitude
were forcibly suggested. A shower had fallen during the ascent, and the sun was still obscured,
while a sharp wind from the north-west piercing the wet woods and sighing among the balsams,
blasted the weather-beaten, heightened an impression of remoteness and desolation. The evergreens,
constituting the principal arboreal growth, extended off on all sides, clothing the rocky and moss-
grown slopes, and presenting the striking contrast of a young and fragrant second growth clustering
about the branchless and spiny trunks of their sires tottering in decay; or, with tangled and matted
branches outlined here and there, as we approached the summit, against a grey and. cheerless sky.
Owing to the comparatively short life of these trees, that high portion of the mountain where their
tribe had pitched was brought into grim contrast with its surroundings. Old age and death,
continually present invading their ranks, had everywhere left their traces; flourishing clusters had
been stricken, their fellowship, groups and gatherings had been divided and scattered, and like a
contagion the destroyer had spread among their hosts. But the younger generations are continually
forming their associations, and with green and fragrant grouping filling in deserted chambers
and screening the devastation that has gone before, although only to furnish material for its
continuance. All this with an occasional undergrowth of greater or less luxuriance, gave a diversified
and somewhat open character to the surroundings, entirely dissimilar to that of the environing forest;
conditions which, in conjunction with humidity and elevation, have brought this mountain top into
some relation with the swampland of a more northern region. Reaching a more elevated portion of
the ridge where the ground was more level and the surface less rocky, that north-woods tree, the
paper birch (Betula papyracea) occasionally appeared, and more abundantly the mountain ash.
Almost the only remnant of the dense mountain forests below was the yellow birch (Betula lutea),
which, joining the undergrowth, persisted with small and stunted stature to the summit. On all
sides were to be seen the white blossoms of Viburnum lantanoides, which, though also found in the
valley woodlands, had there long since flowered and was now bearing green fruit. Another
characteristic shrub was Amelanchier canadensis oligocarpa; lower down had been found the
var. botriapium, but here the northern form was well marked, seeming almost specifically distinct.
In the deep, damp moss, covering and filling in the rocks beneath the balsam growth, and relieving
the ruggedness of the slopes, northern plants were growing in greater or less profusion. The dwarf
cornel (Corn/us canadensis) grew in such close luxuriance in congenial spots, that its snowy bracts
imparted an almost uniform whiteness to the whole beds. With, or near it, blossomed the wood
sorrel [Oxalis acetosella) with delicately violet-veined petals, and the appropriately named goldthread
(Coptis trifolia), of evanescent bloom but shining evergreen leaves, and the little star flower
(Trientalis americana) were often also associates. Excepting the pale yellow bells of Clintonia
borealis, and the purplish tinge, or veining, of the blossoms of several other species, all the plants
noticed in bloom at this time upon the mountains bore flowers of the same shade o f white. The
more open ground about our course along the ridge supported a luxuriant and graceful growth of
that lovely fern Aspidium spinulosum, and with it, in openings about the summit, grew abundantly
the mountain golden-rod (Solidago thyrsoidea), which, although yet many weeks from bloom,
heralded a royal emblem to light the mountain’s brow ere the white locks of winter should again
possess it.
“ At an elevation where these plants first appeared the trees nowhere attained more than a
medium stature, those which seemed best to have surmounted the difficulties of their situation, the
balsam and the paper birch, never rising to a height of more than, perhaps, twenty-five feet. This
growth completely encompassed the range of vision, but an occasional scantiness in the foliage
permitted glimpses of surrounding mountains rolling off like huge green billows into the blue
distance.
“ From these evergreens came the leisurely call of the Canada Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis), and
on closer approach the low plaintive notes of the little Yellow-bellied Flycatcher (Empidonax
flaviventris). The brief warble of the Black-and-Yellow Warbler (Eendroica maculosa) told the
presence of its unseen author in the surrounding trees, while among the undergrowth the less
frequent, but louder and more sustained song o f the Mourning Ground-Warbler (Geothlypis
Philadelphia) showed that this species, which had been left at the foot of the mountain, had here
reappeared. At intervals, faint mingling with these songs, from some hidden fastness below, came
the fastasia of the Winter Wren, a melody that seemed to pass from the spirit of unclaimed nature,
voicing some mystery of the mountains. The clamour of a party of Blue Jays occasionally arose
and died away in the forest, but here, in the mountain solitude, their screams seemed less subdued
than in less primitive regions, and lacked that suggestion of consciousness which individuals
constantly within human hearing seem to acquire. Busily roaming Chickadees (Parus atricapillus)
at times came about our path, and the Snow-bird (Junco hyemalis) was present with its simple song.
Olive-backed Thrushes (Turdus ustulatus swainsoni) too were constantly to be heard, and finally,
guided by its near song, one was followed up and secured. A moment later another Thrush darted
across the path, and disappearing through a young balsam growth, immediately began to sing a few
rods off. The song was different from that of the bird which had just been shot, so much so, in fact,
as to be remarked even by my guide. It seemed to be more uniform in character, with less variation
and definition of the notes: as I. wrote in my note-book at the time—more suggestive of the song of
the Veery. A conspicuous point of difference was that it was more subdued in tone, in fact of a
somewhat ventriloquial nature. On examining the bird in hand, although I had thought myself
familiar with all our eastern Wood Thrushes (Hylocichlce), I must confess to having been puzzled.
It was obviously neither the Olive-backed nor the Hermit Thrush, the only species of our own
smaller Thrushes, which from the distribution of their group (as then understood) could possibly be
expected to occur. I at once noted its general resemblance to the Grey-cheeked Thrush, but it
seemed impossible that this Hudsonian bird could be found so far south at this season; and though
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