BIRD NOTES AFIELD 



they but have had ears beneath the sod. I look at the head- 

 stones on the graves and fancy those simple Indian men and 

 maidens of a century ago, those cavaliers, vaqueros or soldiers 

 from Mexico or Spain, walking beneath the shady corridors, 

 perchance whispering the old, old story to some dark-eyed 

 seiiorita as the padre turned his back upon them, and that sweet 

 strain of the song-sparrow filling in the moments of silence to 

 lighten the heartbeats and lessen the suspense of the moment! 

 Surely they heard the linnet sing as I hear it now! What lover 

 but would listen to such a passionate outburst? And now 

 they are all gone and forgotten, the weeds have growTi up into 

 trees above them, and the birds still sing in the branches ! 



The mission stands upon a gentle swell of land with the 

 willow-fringed arroyo below it at one side, its cool stream wind- 

 ing down between the hills to the sea, which may be seen from 

 the outer corridors of the mission as a little strip of blue in a 

 gap of the hills. The willows are a favorite resort of the West- 

 ern Maryland yellowthroat, a beautiful little warbler which 

 winters there. Its back is clear olive-green, changing to gray- 

 ish on the head, its under parts are a beautiful pure yellow, 

 most brilliant on the throat and under tail-coverts, while a large 

 black mask covers the sides of the face, extending through the 

 eye to the base of the bill, and surmounted by a narrow line of 

 white. TliC yellowthroat always impresses me as such a neat, 

 trim, genteel creature, and I am very fond of its light, dainty 

 manners. As it flits about among the willows it repeatedly 

 utters its call-note, a quick check, check, low and unobtrusive, 

 but emphatic. It is a quick, alert little fellow, constantly busy 

 searching for insects about the willows or pools of water, deftly 

 picking them from the leaves or from the scum upon some stag- 



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