DESERT BIRD LIFE—-OBERHOLSER. 365 
big Swainson hawks that come and go high up in the blue ether. 
Some of the rocky islands that ascend precipitously hundreds of feet 
from the surface of the lake, dry and barren as for the most part they 
seem to be, support a bird population by no means inconsiderable, for 
here, among many, are the house finch; the brush-loving sage 
thrasher; those birds of the chaparral—the black-throated, Brewer, 
and lark sparrows; the well-known catbird of eastern thickets; the 
horned lark; the modest little flycatcher; the white-rumped shrike; 
and that lovable little songster, the warbling vireo. 
The stranger in these deserts is at once impressed with the pallid 
vegetation, so fully in keeping with all around; but in the southern 
part of the Great Basin—in extreme southern Nevada, western Ari- 
zona, and southeastern California—this monotonous color tone is 
relieved by the dark, rich green of the shiny, resinous leaves of the 
handsome creosote bush, and in places by the great tree yuccas, whose 
branches, spread in strange, even fantastic, shapes, support a massive, 
spiny foliage. 
Here, out in the brush, lives the Gambel partridge, often in great 
numbers. Ordinarily, if venturing from its chosen cover, it is ever 
alert for the signal of danger; but if unmolested it becomes in due 
time and place so unsuspicious that it is scarcely alarmed even when 
the passer-by is near at hand. The ash-throated flycatcher, unob- 
trusive, yet by reason of its abundance, conspicuous, is one of the 
most distinctive birds of the desert, and its mildly strident call is 
one of the common sounds. 'The active and excessively shy Leconte 
thrasher is far more difficult of acquaintance than some of its neigh- 
bors, but its delightful song and odd, interesting ways abundantly 
repay the painstaking observer. The cactus wren is particularly 
fond of the great tree yuccas and the tall cactuses, where his rough, 
globular nest is so much in evidence; but, modest architect that he 
is, he presents to view not himself but only his work. The far- 
famed mocking bird, too, so oft proclaimed the prince of singers, 
here “wastes his sweetness on the desert air,” but finds hardly so 
congenial a dwelling place as in some other climes. The Costa 
humming bird, midget though it is, defies the heat and the drought 
of the desert, living here in apparent happiness and comfort; the 
little yellow-headed verdin fashions its curious retort-shaped nest 
in the bushes, and, more provident than some of its fellows, repairs 
the same one for winter use or builds another; in the canyons lead- 
ing into the hills and the mountains, where the strikingly attired 
phainopeplas congregate to chat and eat and the cliff swallows are 
busily engaged in their household cares at the colonies of their 
closely crowded homes on the rocky walls, the sweet-voiced canyon 
wren fills the air with ringing melody or, exulting in its impreg- 
