::=»v CAMPING IN A BARRANCA m:::::::: 



tops of Guadalajara. Here they were in their native 

 haunts, and their marvellous hymn of sweetness rang- 

 out frequently in the early morning, reechoing among 

 the rocky cliffs. We caught the real inspiration of the 

 Avild joyous strain, which was so 

 obscured and fitted so ill with 

 the environment of the dusty 

 city. It is a silvery dropping 



song of eight or ten clear sweet 



MEXICAN CANYON WREN 



notes, becoming more plaintive 

 as they descend, and ending in 

 several low, ascending trills. 

 The silvery quality is of mar- 

 vellous depth and purity, and 

 although at times the birds 

 sano- with startling- loudness 

 from the very ridge-pole of the 

 tent, there was not a trace of harshness or aught save 

 a liquid clearness. It seemed the very essence of the 

 freshness of dawn in the cool bottom of the canyon. 

 The little singer was not easily detected in the gray 

 light, but at last his tremulous white throat was seen 

 high overhead at the entrance of some dripping, mossy 

 crevice in the rocks, his tiny body and wings of dark 

 chocolate hue merg-ing- into the backg-round. 



As the sunlight travelled slowly downward toward 

 us, the notes flowed more slowly from his throat, until, 

 with the increasing warmth, only a few sleepy tones 



«4- 141 ^ 



