DOG-TOWN DIGGINGS 227 
moved on through the town turning aside to 
sniff at the drowned dogs. 
One spring I called early in Cactus Center 
and found blackbirds, robins, and other north- 
bound birds among the visitors. Among these 
was a flock of golden plover, one of the greatest 
of bird travellers. These birds were resting and 
feeding. They probably were on their way from 
the far South American plains, to their nesting 
ground on the treeless grassland around the 
Arctic Circle. 
During an early summer visit to this dog 
town it was decorated with wild flowers—sand 
lilies, golden banner, creamy vetch, and prickly 
poppy. I wandered about in the evening twi- 
light looking at the evening star flowers while 
a coyote chorus sounded strangely over the wide, 
listening prairie. Near me was a dog hole; its 
owner climbed up to peep out; in a minute or 
so he retired without a bark or a yap. 
The magnificent visible distances of the plains 
seem to create a desire in its dwellers to see 
everything that is going on around. And also 
a desire for sociability, for herds. Buffalo 
crowded in enormous herds, the antelope were 
sometimes in flocks of thousands, and the little 
yellow-brown dogs crowded and congested. 
The old cottonwood tree which stood onone 
edge of Cactus Center dog-town limits was the 
