VERDIN. 123 
singular structure is suspended from the extremity of a branch of some algarobia, acacia, 
or mimosa, at a varying height—sometimes only two to three feet from the ground, 
sometimes much higher. In the Colorado and Mojave River Valleys, Dr. Cooper observed 
many nests, one of which he describes with particularity:—On the 10th of March, I 
found a pair building, first forming a wall nearly spherical in outline, out of the thorny 
twigs of the Algarobia (or mesquite, in which tree the nest is usually built), then lining 
it with softer twigs, down, leaves of plants, and feathers, covering the outside with 
thorns, till it becomes a mass as large as a man's head, or 9.00X5.50 inches outside, 
the cavity 4.50 2.70, with an opening on one side, just large enough for the bird to 
enter, On the 27th of March, I found the first nest containing eggs, and afterwards 
many more. There were in all cases four eggs (others say four to six), pale blue, with 
numerous small brown spots, chiefly near the larger end, though some had very few 
spots and were much paler.” (Coues.) 
All along our southern border from California to the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, 
the Verdin seems to be a very common bird. In the last named locality, Mr. Geo. B. 
Sennett found it in large numbers. To volume IV and V of the “Bulletin of the United 
States Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories” (1878 and 1879), this 
excellent naturalist has contributed highly interesting papers on the birds of the lower 
Rio Grande of Texas. Of the Verdin he writes as follows: 
“My first knowledge of the existence of this bird in the vicinity was the finding of 
a new nest on April 28; but it contained no eggs, and was not recognized at the time. 
The next day I went to the nest, found one egg in it, and saw both parents. While the 
female was darting in and out of the thicket, evidently alarmed at my close proximity 
to her treasure, the male was flitting from tree to tree, on the topmost branches, ‘sing- 
ing as hard as he could. I watched them both for at least half an hour, when they 
disappeared. Allowing five days to complete their complement of eggs, I again visited 
the nest. I cautiously approached and shook the bush, but no bird flew out of the 
nest. Thereupon I inserted my finger in the small opening on the side of the nest, and 
I could feel three eggs, and what I thought were some loose feathers. Imagine my 
surprise and fright upon withdrawing my finger at something flying out of the nest, 
directly into my face. It was the female. A few cries of alarm, and responses from her 
mate, and they were out of sight. Again carefully examining the nest, I very plainly 
felt four eggs. I decided to leave them until another day. Fatal mistake! for when it 
was next visited the female flew out of the nest before we reached it. I then went for 
the nest, but, lo! it-was empty—not the least vestige of an egg! Nothing, in my 
opinion, could have removed the eggs but the bird itself. It was owing, in all proba- 
bility, to the disturbance and fright of the previous visit. But why was she back in 
the nest? About this time three eggs were discovered in another nest, and when visited 
the day after they were also gone. We were very careful in examining lest we should 
disturb the eggs. Can it be possible that with the least touch the parent bird abandons 
her eggs? Two nests that we found had been torn open from above, evidently by some 
Jay or other robber: Out of six new nests found between April 28 and May 10 we were 
only able to obtain one egg, and that was probably an infertile one, as the balance of 
the clutch had hatched and taken their departure. Their nests are simply wonderful, 
