The Leconte Thrasher 
for 
in 
I 
ancient Indian encampment and burial ground, but I have heard no 
sweeter bird song, and the memory still lingers. Since then I have 
heard the song a few times, but not oftener than once or twice a year, 
though I have been frequently among the birds. Not only do they 
seldom sing, but the whistling call note is not often heard. They appear 
to be silent unsociable creatures, never more than a pair being found 
together, unless a brood 
of young birds and par¬ 
ents, and then only till 
the former can fight 
themselves.” 
One morning, 
February, 1913, 
set out on foot for a 
reconnaissance in the 
desert north of Mecca, 
bearing a gun in a per- 
functory way, for 
possible “specimens.” 
The fluted rampart of 
hills, mother naked 
under the pitiless sun, 
seduced my steps, and I 
entered the mystic 
depths of one of the 
myriad canyons which 
pierce the range. In the 
course of an hour’s 
travel I saw exactly one 
living creature, a 
solitary house-fly! 
Nothing did I see, either, 
for miles on the return 
save another fly. Then, 
suddenly, I heard a Le¬ 
conte Thrasher singing 
— improvising little 
wild snatches of song. 
Murder rose in my heart 
and died almost imme- 
Taketi on the Mohave Desert Photo by Wright M. Pierce diately US I rapid 1 \ 
nest of leconte thrasher in otuntia ramosissima reviewed the rationale, 
