io6 THE CONDOR Vor.. IX 



could see many birds flying, but as a heavy wind had roughened the water con- 

 siderably I decided to let that go until the next trip, and after packing a set or two 

 of each variety I had found, I wound my way homeward. 



Early on the morning of July 4, I was on the spot firmly resolved to reach 

 that second island. I found the island no nearer than before but the water was as 

 smooth as glass and, arming myself with a ten-pound wooden pickle bucket to 

 bring back the spoils, I started out. After a half-hour's swimming I reached the 

 goal and found it well worth the trouble. Altho I found no rarities here, the 

 scene could not fail to interest any lover of ornithology. This island was smaller 

 than the other, containing only about two acres. The beach was occupied by a 

 colony of Ring-billed Gulls {Lams delawarensis), most of their shallow nests con- 

 taining two or three young birds. I secured a few sets, however, which I was 

 able to save. In one corner of the island was a small colony of White Pelicans, 

 the nests containing two eggs each, mostly fresh. I found one lonely, half-grown 

 nestling and, without exception, it was the ugliest thing I ever saw. 



A few ducks were breeding here also, but the greater part of the island was 

 taken up by a rookery of Great Blue Herons (Ardea herodias). There were hun- 

 dreds of their nests flat on the ground among the bushes, built to a height of two 

 or three feet. At this date most of them contained nearly full grown young, and 

 very pugnacious they were, too. They clearly considered me an intruder and 

 their reception of me was not conducive to much familiarity on my part. 



Having thoroly explored the island and finding nothing further of interest I 

 filled my wooden bucket with donations from the Pelicans and Gulls and made the 

 return trip without trouble, tho my cargo made my progress rather slow. 



This was my last visit to the lake that year but I expect some time to return 

 and hope to find no diminution of the numbers of this interesting colony. 



Los Angeles, California. 



MEASURING A CONDOR 



By M. FRENCH OILMAN 



IN the spring of 1901, while stationed as Forest Ranger at Warner's Ranch, San 

 Diego County, I assisted in measuring a live California Condor ( Gymnogyps 

 calif ornianus) . A cattle man shot it on Volcan Mountain, breaking one wing, 

 and after a fight succeeded in getting it home. Here it was confined in a large 

 roomy coop and its shattered wing carefully dressed and put in a sling. The bird, 

 however, insisted on tearing open the bandages and picking at the wound. The 

 lady of the house had named it Polly, tho it was a fine male, and was trying to 

 make a pet of it without getting in reach of its powerful beak. For food they oc- 

 casionally gave it a beef liver or a jack rabbit. 



My friend, Nathan Hargrave of Banning, was with me and we persuaded the 

 owner to turn it loose in the enclosed yard so we could see it in action. A noble 

 bird it appeared when released, except for the one wounded wing. The size of its 

 feet seemed remarkable, tho not as dangerous looking as the talons of an eagle, 

 simply big and honest-looking foundations. 



The bird strode about the yard and entered the open door of a shed. Here 

 stretched on a bed lay the mail carrier enjoying a Sunday nap. The vulture 

 hopped upon the bed and of course the man woke up. He w^as startled by this 



