DOG-TOWN DIGGINGS 227 



moved on through the town turning aside to 

 sniff at the drowned dogs. 



One spring I called early in Cactus Center 

 and found blackbirds, robins, and other north- 

 bound birds among the visitors. Among these 

 was a flock of golden plover, one of the greatest 

 of bird travellers. These birds were resting and 

 feeding. They probably were on their way from 

 the far South American plains, to their nesting 

 ground on the treeless grassland around the 

 Arctic Circle. 



During an early summer visit to this dog 

 town it was decorated with wild flowers sand 

 lilies, golden banner, creamy vetch, and prickly 

 poppy. I wandered about in the evening twi- 

 light looking at the evening star flowers while 

 a coyote chorus sounded strangely over the wide, 

 listening prairie. Near me was a dog hole; its 

 owner climbed up to peep out; in a minute or 

 so he retired without a bark or a yap. 



The magnificent visible distances of the plains 

 seem to create a desire in its dwellers to see 

 everything that is going on around. And also 

 a desire for sociability, for herds. Buffalo 

 crowded in enormous herds, the antelope were 

 sometimes in flocks of thousands, and the little 

 yellow-brown dogs crowded and congested. 



The old cottonwood tree which stood on one 

 edge of Cactus Center dog-town limits was the 



