CHAPTER V 



THE MESQUITE WILDERNESS 



^■HEN our excursions began to take in a 

 wider field, leaving behind the corn- 

 stubble and ditches and even the semi- 

 desert wastes beyond, we found ourselves 

 in a trackless wilderness of mesquite and cactus. Wher- 

 ever one stood he seemed surrounded with an open 

 growth of the dry and dusty trees just too high to see 

 over. A few steps farther they appeared less in height. 

 When these were reached, the same monotonous 

 glimpses of more mesquite, more gnarly cactus, was all 

 that was seen, and for mile upon mile one was alter- 

 nately stimulated with the hope of a more extensive 

 view and disappointed by the result. No low vegetation 

 covered the white earth, no water was to be found for 

 leagues around, yet at times the spiny, dry-leafed trees 

 swarmed with birds, all — with one exception — garbed 

 in gray or earthy hues, in perfect tone with their sur- 

 roundings. 



The exception — the Vermilion Flycatchers — more 

 than made up for the sombre colours of the other birds. 

 In such a place, in middle March, dozens of the color- 

 aditos, — little red ones, — as the Mexicans call them, 



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