OVER THE BORDER 191 



Mexican Central Railroad, in the direction of the 

 mountains, heading my course for a cemetery out 

 on the slope, in the midst of the chaparral. White- 

 necked ravens were foraging beside the track, as 

 little disturbed by human approach as so many 

 English sparrows might have been. " How soon 

 the strange becomes familiar ! " I thought. I 

 had never seen a white-necked raven (there is 

 no whiteness visible,^ the bird being a very imp 

 of darkness to look at it) till less than twenty- 

 four hours ago, and already I was passing it with 

 something like indifference. I was far from in- 

 different, however, two afternoons later, when 

 for the first time I watched a flock of several 

 hundred soaring in mazy circles high overhead, 

 after the manner of buzzards or sea-gulls. 



No other birds showed themselves till I drew 

 near the cemetery gate, when suddenly the bushes 

 just in front, straight between me and the sun, 

 were alive with sparrows. My eyes, dazzled as 

 they were by the sunshine, caught sight of one 

 lark bunting as the flock took wing. I must see 

 more of it, — it was my first one, — and started 

 eagerly in pursuit. But the creatures were timid 



1 True aa a general statement ; bnt once, at Tucson, I saw 

 a 1)ird standing on the top of a telegraph pole facing a pretty 

 stiff breeze, which blew the feathers of the throat apart till 

 they showed a snow-white spot as large as a silver doUar. 



