::«f CAMPING IN A BARRANCA Sfe: 



ters long, and his generally accepted bnt utterly inane 

 and meaning-less common name of Texas Kino-fisher. 

 Why, forsooth, because a few enterprising individuals 

 of his kind have dared to cross the Rio Grande River 

 into one of our Southern States, must we call the entire 

 race Texan, when their natural home is in Mexico and 

 Central America? "What's in a name?" Verily, 

 what is not in one ! 



The songs of but few birds, when reduced to musical 

 notation and played upon the piano, can be recognized 

 until the name of the songster is revealed, and so in the 

 case of this diminutive kingfisher ; no one would ever 

 call his utterance a rattle until the little fellow — true 

 kingfisher from beak to toe — is seen in the act. Then 

 the resemblance of the clicking to the rattle of our 

 Belted Kingfisher is so absurdly apparent, and yet such 

 a parody and travesty in its diminutiveness, that we 

 cannot help being amused. For a few days we never 

 saw these little birds without the comparison coming 

 to mind, but we soon discovered that far from being a 

 mere caricature of his larger cousin of the North, the 

 Little Green Kingfisher had an individuality of no small 

 moment. As soon as he was convinced of our pacific 

 intentions, he was perfectly fearless, and went about 

 his business wasting but little thought upon us strange 

 interlopers. Perfect drones we must have seemed to 

 him, with nothing better to do than to stare and stare 

 all dav. He was an affectionate bird, and kept close to 



«4 143 > 



