166 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



and told him to roll. A droll abstracted look 

 came into his eyes, he dropped on his knees and, 

 with a sudden convulsion, threw his heels into the 

 air and rolled back and forth, rubbing his back- 

 bone vigorously on the sand. After that, the first 

 thing every morning when we got to the oaks, I 

 unsaddled him and let him roll, and then he would 

 stand with bare back keeping cool in the shade of 

 the trees. 



One morning as we stood under the bush-tit's 

 tree, I discovered a pair of turtle doves looking 

 out at me from the leaves of the small oak oppo- 

 site, craning their necks and moving their heads 

 uneasily. One of them seemed to be shaping a 

 nest of twigs. I drew Billy around between us, 

 so that my staring would seem less pointed, and 

 when one of the pair flew to the ground to spy at 

 me, hurriedly looked the other way to remove his 

 anxiety. His mate soon joined him, and the two 

 doves walked away together, fixed their feathers 

 in the sun, stretched their wings, and lazily picked 

 at the ground. When one whined back to the 

 nest, the other soon followed. The gentle lovers 

 put their bills together, while, unnoticed, I stood 

 behind Billy, looking on and thinking that it was 

 little wonder such birds should rise from the 

 ground with a musical whirr. 



Billy's oak was the last of the high trees in the 

 garden. Above it was a grassy space where 

 bright wild flowers bloomed, and pretty cottontail 



