:::::::::m two BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO B:"""" 



no other bird is an equal volume of sound produced 

 with so little effort. The compensating law of Nature 

 allots to this matchless singer a simple Quaker garb of 

 brownish gray. He made us think of a catbird with 

 a ring of white about the eye. 



While we listened to the JUguero (Heelgaro), as the 

 Mexicans call him, all other songs that we had ever 

 heard seemed insignificant. The melody of the bird 

 seemed born of the rustling; winds and the murmuring; 

 waters. Now and then he plucked a small berry from 

 a twig near him, but his song grew no less clear, as he 

 uttered it again and again. When the last berry was 

 gone, as suddenly as he had appeared, the Solitaire flew 

 straight back into the depths of his secluded home. 



TROPICS AND PINES 



In another place, where the arroyo again shallowed 

 and widened, the rank vegetation grew down to the 

 very brink of the phantom waters. Birds and other 

 creatures had concentrated here, where feathery tufts of 

 bamboo, and trees bearing a fruit like small oranges, 

 were scattered among countless varieties of bushes, 

 vines, and trees, nameless to us. An ever-to-be-remem- 

 bered five minutes came to us, when the very flood- 

 gates of life were opened. From our rocky seat, Sefior- 

 ita and I marvelled at the sudden abundance of living 

 creatures, appearing and passing so quickly that only 

 the stenography of the mind could note them at the 



«4 246 #* 



