A Day With the Birds in Southern Arizona 187 



Hawk, l-'lyin^ about such a cactus, was a pair of Western Martins, which had 

 taken possession of a deserted Woodpecker's hole. There were several holes 

 in this branched trunk, which towered some forty feet high, and it is within the 

 range of possibility that the Gila Woodpecker, the Gilded and Red-shafted 

 Flickers seen near, and Pygmy and Elf Owls, in addition to the Martins, had 

 a peculiar interest in it. From the rigid, leafless, though strangely attractive 

 paloverdes along the roadside, the Black-capped Plumbeous Gnatcatcher hurried 

 her brood; from the mcsquite, the grayish but strictly upright, an Ash-throated 

 Flycatcher flew leisurely, uttering his Crested Flycatcher-like note of defiance; 

 out of the inhospitable looking choUas cactus, the somber Cafion Towhee made 

 silently away; and, hopping about in a vicious 'cat's-claws' shrub, a brood of 

 Desert Sparrows watched me pass. They look so dusty that one thinks they 

 never bathe; but they know what water is, for I watched one take twenty-three 

 mouthfuls from a drinking-pan near my house, one hot day. 



The telephone posts were frequently guarded by a White-rumped Shrike, 

 and the single wire held more than one Rough-winged Swallow. 



Birds were not the only life along the road. Lizards dashed away a few yards 

 and stopped to see what they had run from — little amber fellows with barred tails 

 curled up over their backs (zebra-tails), big scaly gray ones (Clark's and collared 

 swifts), and striped and spotted road-racers, with several others. The flowers, 

 too, would be noticed by any true bird-lover; the red to yellowish green ones, 

 protected by the inch-long spines of the five species of chollas or tree opuntias; 

 the w'axy white wreaths of the fluted giant cactus or siguaro; but especially 

 a startling group of agaves, which thrusting their pure white inflorescence tlirough 

 the green mesquite of an arroyo, caught the eye from afar. 



Leaving my bicycle at the end of the old side-road, and, taking my binoculars, 

 I entered the cafion. Within its rocky walls there is a little kingdom, held to- 

 gether by the presence of water. About the springs grow huge cottonwoods, and 

 higher up, evergreen oaks, both of which swarm with life. I threw myself grate- 

 fully in the first shade. While resting, a song suggesting somewhat that of Audu- 

 bon's Hermit Thrush, but more that of the Western Meadowlark's " Lwant-to- 

 speak-to-you " call, broke out clearly and sweetly. The lemon-and-black author 

 (Scott's Oriole) was clinging to the wand-like stems of the candlewood or ocotillo. 

 Nearer at hand, came in an undertone a rippling flow of music, which strikingly 

 resembled a Bobolink's when heard from a distance. It w^as the first, though 

 not the last time that I have heard the Arizona Hooded Oriole sing this sweet 

 undertone song. Its ordinary one is quite loud, and reminds one at once of 

 the notes of the Yellow-headed Blackbird. The finding of links connecting the 

 songs of the ^Nleadowlark, Baltimore Oriole, Yellow'-headed Blackbird and the 

 Bobolink, in the songs of other members of the family, is of great interest. 



A short distance farther, a brood of Verdins caught my eye. The yellowish 

 crowns and rumps were more than ordinarily noticealjle against the dark back- 

 ground of grape leaves. From the lower ])art of the same clump, a Golden 



