move on, ever on, from the flowered fields he loved so well. From the 

 roadside comes the "honk" of civilization and he bends his ears close to his 

 gray fur and silently steals farther and farther out into the sheep-covered 

 range. 



Poor Jack Rabbit, he of wild, trackless nobility, born with his coat of 

 fur and his eyes wide open, his kingdom a birthright; he a fleet-footed 

 messenger of the plains, the wood and the meadow, his long hind legs like 

 springs of steel bound with living sinews, would drive him in great bounds 

 in the race for life; his bed but a hollowed form under the spreading fern 

 or in the fallen leaves of the wild ivy was all his home. There the little 

 family of ears and eyes and legs came into being by threes and fours, 

 almost under every second moon. At the end of two or three weeks their 

 soft velvet feet were ready for the sod and the race of a rabbit's lifetime. 

 The open was his pride and the wooded field his playground. 



To-day he is accursed and spoken of only in contempt by the returning 

 huntsman. The laws of the land forget him in their protection and he 

 wanders the fields to die at last an ignominious death. For the jackrabbit 

 and his progeny there is apparently no gilded future. The sunlight and the 

 moonlight make long shadows across his pathway. The craven coyote and 

 the cawing crow are companions at his death struggle without a touch of 

 pity, without a sigh of sorrow. Man steps across his pathway and crushes 

 the skeleton bones of the long-eared, brown-eyed beauty of the Golden West. 



Oh sportsman, be kind to him, for he is still a part of nature! Forget 

 not the days when he lived in his pride, the days when your bullet flew 

 toward the long ears above the wild oats or mid the tangled grass. Let 

 him still be one of us, a part of us, and if he die, let it be by the touch of the 

 shot beyond the bay of the hounds. 



DESERT BIRDS 



M. FRENCH GIL.MAN 



THESE few bird-notes refer to that portion of the Colorado Desert 

 extending from Banning to Yuma and lying between the desert 

 extension of the San Bernardino and the San Jacinto ranges of 

 mountains. Altitudes are from two hundred and sixty feet below 

 sea-level, at Salton, to eight thousand feet, on El Tore, a peak in the 

 Martinez Mountains. The Salton Sea furnishes pasture for many acquatic 

 birds, such as ducks, herons, divers, cormorants, and others. 



The quail or partridge is the one that shines on the desert, and of the 

 three species found in the territory described, the desert quail, or Gambel 

 partridge, is most widely scattered and numerous. His sandy complexion 

 harmonizes with the gray vegetation. The red head, black breast-patch, and 

 lighter color readily distinguish this bird from his near relation, the Cali- 

 fornia quail, which is found at the west end of the desert and along the 

 foothills. The plumed partridge, or mountain quail, is found in the desert 

 mountains from 3,500 feet upward. The mourning-dove is found at all the 

 water-holes and occasionally the tiny Mexican ground-dove wanders across 

 the Colorado River or the Mexican line and visits California. 



Among Raptores the condor is rarest, and is now seldom seen. The 

 turkey-buzzard is common. The golden eagle is sometimes found among 

 the desert peaks. Of hawks the red-tail is most numerous, and his big nest 

 can be seen placed on a ledge against a high cliff or crag. The marsh- 

 hawk, of course, is off his range; but if you plant a field to alfalfa he will 

 visit you to clean out the gophers. The Cooper hawk is thoroughly at home 

 wherever fryers are found. The friendly little sparrow-hawk comes near the 



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