The Verdin 
Taken near Palm Springs 
A PALO VERDE 
Photo by the Author 
(green tree), which "breathes through its skin” 
tains; and so the very first sound one listens for upon revisiting the desert 
is always the pensive slithilp of a passing, or it may be an approaching, 
Verdin. 
Truth to tell, there is something a little plaintive and melancholy 
about the authentic voice of the desert. The birds seem happy enough, 
and they must be so, else they would not tarry; but their notes confess 
something of the pathos of unending sands. My note book contains a 
dozen efforts at syllabification of one of Verdin’s call-notes, but there is 
still an elusive tang about it which defies record. Tseelp; tslit; chsthilp; 
chilp; tschink; and even ching; are among the attempts, but they are alike 
unavailing. It is doubtful if the Verdin has a song, in the proper sense 
of the word; but I have heard tew tew tew teep, like the peeping of a young 
turkey, a pathetic sort of would-be song, followed or interspersed with 
the more familiar slip notes. Again, I have heard chu'it chu'it chu'it , 
which set me involuntarily looking for titmice; and a sweet che'wit, a 
chickadee-like challenge which was very sweet indeed. 
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