102 I N A G U A 



No sound that I have ever heard, except possibly the voices of 

 tiny meadow mice, was exactly like it. I stroked the bird for a 

 moment then took it out in the sunlight to a large prickly pear 

 plant. Turning the little thing right side up I placed its feet on 

 the edge of a big yellow blossom and steadied it. It teetered 

 drunkenly and then began to acquire its equilibrium. Plung- 

 ing its bill to the base of the blossom the bird drank once, 

 twice, rested, drank again and then very weakly spread its 

 wings and flew between two cacti and out of sight. 



