102 



THE OOLOGIST 



MEXICAN BIRDS. 



A personal letter from George E. 

 LaGrange, a nephew of the Editor at 

 present a Senior in Stanford Universi- 

 ty at Palo Alto, California, tells many 

 interesting things of some of the birds 

 of Vera Cruz, Mexico, where he spent 

 most of the i)ast summer. It in part 

 reads as follows: 



■ "I think i)ractically all the birds are 

 different, even the Buzzards. I know 

 the Blackbirds are— they have tails, 

 regular fans; while the birds are fully 

 half again as large as our Purple 

 Crackle. They are very plentiful and 

 very tame — as in fact all wild game is 

 in Mexico. Nothing of this sort is 

 molested by the natives. 



In Vera Cruz the blackbirds seem to 

 come, one, each and every egg-hatched 

 nigger amongst them, to the central 

 plaza of the city to roost in the trees 

 to be found there. Every evening, as 

 sure as the sun approaches the west- 

 ern horizon, they begin to assemble. 

 Singly, in families and tribes, almost 

 in battalions, they flock in to begin 

 their nightly squabble for a piece of 

 green limb two inches long and free 

 from branches and leaves — and other 

 blackbiids — upon which they may pre- 

 pare, to begin, to get ready, to com- 

 mence, to roost for the night. For it 

 is one thing to have and another to 

 hold. And although the good little 

 early bird who retires in proper sea- 

 son, may select and stake out his 

 claim for a roost, he must be prepared 

 to defend it against every new comer 

 and late comer until long after sun- 

 down. .Jumping of claims is well 

 known in the genera of blackbirds, 

 nor is there any rule to the game ex- 

 cei)t hold as hold can. In fact, and I 

 don't speak jokingly, so furious and 

 boisterous, numerous and continuous 

 are the squabbles which take place 

 for a comfortable bed that from an 



hour before sundown, till black dark, 

 it is exceedingly difficult to carry on 

 a conversation anywhere in the plaza. 

 The trees are simply alive with 

 squawking, flapping birds. Indeed the 

 trees seem to have borne a crop of 

 wings amidst their other foliage. Awn- 

 ings are always put up evenings when 

 the band plays to protect the seats 

 and heads of the listeners. 



Nor are the blackbirds the only 

 guests, welcome or unwelcome, who 

 make their beds and sleep undisturbed 

 by cops or night watchmen, on the 

 streets of the main thoroughfare of 

 the city. Cotimely with the arrival of 

 the blackbirds there ascend flocks and 

 clouds of graceful, swift darting swal- 

 lows, not chimney skiffs, of course, 

 because there are no chimneys in 

 Mexico. They skim the heavens in 

 early dusk in silence, apparently very 

 deeply mortified at the dreadful squab- 

 ble going on beneath them. Gradually 

 as the evening's dusk descends they 

 too sink lower and lower and pass 

 swifter and closer until the heavens 

 look like an inverted magnified ant 

 hill. Lower and lower they swoop, in 

 gradually lessening circles until their 

 twitterings can be caught mingled 

 with the now somewhat subdued clam- 

 or of the blackbirds. And finally after 

 a few daring sweeps directly over the 

 heads, even amongst the surging of the 

 crowds below, they pass to their roost 

 for the night, where however there 

 has already begun a scramble for a 

 "location" which bids fair to vie with 

 the one described above. Their de- 

 mands however are far less exacting 

 than those of the blackbirds. No soft 

 fresh green branch do they beseech, 

 their only cry, and one which has now 

 raised the total humdrum to its loud- 

 est pitch — is for nothing more than 

 one inch of bare, hard, cold copper 

 wire. Only it must be an inch of a 



