94 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



There was a nest in the chaparral which prob- 

 ably belonged to these chewinks. It was in a 

 mass of poison ivy that had climbed up on a 

 scrub-oak. I spent the best part of a morning 

 waiting for the birds to give in their evidence. 

 Brown sentinels were posted on high bare brush 

 tops, where they chipped at me, and once a brown 

 form flew swiftly away from the nest bush ; but 

 like most people whose conversation is limited to 

 monosyllables, the towhees are good at keeping a 

 secret. While watching for them, I heard a noise 

 that suggested angry cats spitting at each other ; 

 and three jack-rabbits came racing down the 

 chaparral-covered knoll. One of them shot off 

 at a tangent while the other two trotted along 

 the openings in the brush as if their trails were 

 roads in a park. Then a cottontail rabbit came 

 out on a spot of hard yellow earth encircled by 

 bushes, and lying down on its side kicked up its 

 heels and rolled like a horse ; after which the 

 pretty thing stretched itself full length on the 

 ground to rest, showing a pink light in its ears. 

 After a while it got up, scratched one ear, and 

 with a kick of one little furry leg ran off in the 

 brush. Another day, when I sat waiting, I saw 

 a jack-rabbit's ears coming through the brush. 

 He trotted up within a few feet, when he stopped, 

 facing me with head and ears up ; a noble-looking 

 little animal, reminding me of a deer with antlers 

 branching back. He stood looking at me, not 



