A First Glance at the Birds. 



upon the ground. We hear a sharp, 

 short squeak, followed by a rapping 

 upon the bark of a tree. Clinging to 

 the trunk is a Harris's woodpecker, 

 busily searching for hidden insects in 

 the bark. Suddenly, with a loud whir- 

 ring of wings, a flock of mountain-quail 

 start out of the underbrush and scatter 

 in the distance. We had nearly trodden 

 upon them before they left their snug 

 covert. A little brown body suddenly 

 flits upon a twig near by, fearless and 

 unconcerned. It is a winter wren, al- 

 ways cheerful and busy in the worst of 

 weather. 



Even upon the alkali plains, where 

 little grows save sage-brush, cacti and 

 yuccas, the birds are not wanting. The 

 sage-thrasher sings in such wastes and 

 the pallid little BelFs sparrow is at 

 home there. Where the desert sands 

 would blister the feet, the road-runner 

 is content to dwell, and the cactus-wren 

 rears her brood amid the thorns, defying 

 the withering heat of the sun. 



