IN A MISSION PATIO 



nant pool, sometimes even wading into a shallow basin in its 

 search, and then suddenly flitting into the air after a gnat which 

 the bright eyes had espied. 



The arroyo is, of course, the haunt of the belted kingfisher, 

 a happy fellow who gives life and color to any landscape he 

 may favor with his presence. He is such a hearty, enthusiastic 

 creature, with his loud call, his vigorous flight above the stream, 

 and now and then his splash into the water after a fish. Where 

 the arroyo widens into a swampy patch the red-winged black- 

 birds congregate in vast numbers, and their melodious clatter 

 fills the air with a sort of joyous stir. They are among the 

 showiest of our birds with their glossy black plumage and bril- 

 liant scarlet shoulder patches. I fancy that even the devout 

 Father Serra, with mind intent upon the baptism of more In- 

 dian babies, must have looked up now and then as he passed 

 a swamp crowded with these birds and rejoiced with the beau- 

 tiful creatures so full of the joy of the open air and the winter 

 sunshine. 



Brewer's blackbird was as abundant in the upland fields as 

 the red wings were in the swamps. This species, by the way, 

 is the only true blackbird found in California, and therefore 

 cannot be confounded with anything else unless it be the crow, 

 which is fully twice its size. The crows were exceedingly 

 abundant about Capistrano, and no doubt their noisy calls and 

 croaks were sweeter to my ear than to the farmers', who think 

 of them only as inveterate pillagers of the corn fields. To me 

 they recalled a Wisconsin boyhood with all the delights of 

 woodland rambles and country life. 



One of the birds which particularly interested me about 

 the mission was the white-throated swift. The swifts are pecu- 



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