In a Mission Patio, 



white. The yellowthroat always im- 

 presses 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 cheeky cheeky 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 stagnant 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 land- 

 scape he may favor with his presence. 

 He is such a hearty, enthusiastic crea- 

 ture, 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 out 



