12 BIRDS OF THE PAP AGO SAGUARO NATIONAL MONUMENT. 



abundance of individuals. Birds are not as numerous as, for ex- 

 ample, they are in the willow thickets of a river bottom, or in some 

 other such place where there is food and shelter for numbers. 



On the desert plains the first impression is of a total absence of 

 birds. Then, one by one, species come to view, until at the end of 

 several hours' observation a list of surprising length will have been 

 drawn up. Quite surely among the first will be the Palmer thrasher. 

 As likely as not the shrill whistle of one of these birds will bring 

 the observer up shortly, with a panicky feeling that the sound is 

 a warning against trespass. It is a very human note; as though 

 the whistler were deeply annoyed, and had the power and full 

 intention of making his resentment felt. 



Standing beside a giant cactus, trying vainly to derive some com- 

 fort from its slender strip of shade, one becomes conscious of a con- 

 tinuous hissing emerging from within the trunk. There is nothing 

 to be seen, but presently a gilded flicker appears, flying from a 

 distance, and, if not too much startled by the intruder, disappears 

 within some one of the several holes in sight, and the hissing vastly 

 augments. 



Then a couple of Arizona crested flycatchers may appear, squab- 

 bling riotously over the bushes. In following them a brood of 

 full-fledged cactus wrens is flushed from a clump of cholla cactus, 

 and these disperse in characteristic swooping flight, skimming close 

 over the ground. A passing white-winged dove halts his flight and 

 alights upon the top of a tall saguaro, apparently for the sole pur- 

 pose of delivering his complicated cooing, for he departs as soon 

 as this rite is finished. Altogether, one presently discovers that a 

 rather surprisingly large number of birds has been observed. 



There are many places in the Salt River Valley where the contrast- 

 ing pictures of desert and farm lands can be viewed side by side, 

 separated, perhaps, merely by the width of an irrigation canal. The 

 transformation is startling and no less complete in the bird life than 

 it is in the vegetation. 



A writer in Motor West (vol. XXVII, July, 1917, p. 10), describ- 

 ing an auto tour through Arizona, words his impression of the change 

 in phrases so happily chosen that I can not do better than insert them 

 here: 



Then, all at once, a transformation so wonderful that it is still hard to be- 

 lieve. We crossed a wide irrigation canal, whose still-flowing waters reflected 

 the red evening sky. It might have been a magic moat whose waters the evil 

 spirits of the desert could not cross; for here was no desert road, but a lane 

 of arching cottonwoods, with fields of alfalfa on either side, vine-covered farm- 

 houses, sleek cattle in the fields, and the smell of newly cut hay instead of 

 choking dust. And out of the green wall of the cottonwoods came a perfect 

 ecstasy of song from orioles and redwing blackbirds, rejoicing over the victory 

 man had won over the desert. Republics may be ungrateful toward the men 



