A A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



movable stake, constantly leading him to new 

 grazing ground ; for when there was a nest to 

 watch I simply hung the bridle over the pommel 

 and let him eat, so getting free hands for opera- 

 glass and note-book. To be sure, there were 

 slight causes of difference between us. He liked 

 to watch birds in the high alfalfa under the syca- 

 mores, but when it came to standing still where 

 the hot sun beat down through the brush and there 

 was nothing to eat, his interest in ornithology 

 flagged perceptibly. Then he sometimes carried 

 the role of grazing horse too far, marching off to 

 a fresh clump of grass out of sight of my nest 

 at the most interesting moment ; or when I was 

 intently gazing through my glass at a rare bird, 

 he would sometimes give a sudden kick at a horse- 

 fly, bobbing the glass out of range just as I was 

 making out the character of the wing-bars. 



From the ranch-house, encircled by live-oaks, 

 the valley widened out, and was covered with or- 

 chards and vineyards, inclosed by the low brush- 

 grown ridges of the Coast Mountains. It was a 

 veritable paradise for the indolent field student. 

 With so much insect-producing verdure, birds 

 were everywhere at all times. There were no long 

 hours to sit waiting on a camp-stool, and only here 

 and there a treetop to ' sky ' the wandering birds. 

 The only difficulty was to choose your intimates. 



Canello and I had our regular beat, down past 

 the blooming quince and apricot orchard, along 



