Oct. 5, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



291 



dispelled this idea as quickly. The bird wheeled in airy 

 circles upward until on a level with the foothills, when it 

 made off for a cafion to the westward. But my compan- 

 ion's keener eye caught sight of its fellow near at hand, 

 and we soon were inspecting the curious blending of 

 characteristics it presents. The bill and incipient crest 

 are undoubtedly those of a flycatcher, but the "booted" 

 legs and general aspect are thrush-like. The tail reminds 

 one of a mockingbird. ''Well, where will you place it?" 

 asked my companion. "Betwixt and between," I re- 

 joined, "but what is it?" "Townsend's fly-catching 

 thrush, the sole representative of an intermediate sub- 

 family. Strange that naturalists should insist on placing 

 the flycatchers far down the scale when this fellow offers 

 convincing proof that they cannot be separated from 

 their allies, the thrushes." It is not uninteresting to 

 notice that Prof. C. H. Turner deduces from a study of 

 the brain a close relation between the two groups, com- 

 pletely reversing the usual arrangement. 



About the bog-like borders of the spring are numerous 

 aquatic plants, and among these a pair of Wilson's snipe 

 have spent the winter. The start you experience when 

 one bustle8 out of cover and darts in a quick semi- circle 

 to another swale bears witness to the fact that long for- 

 gotten experiences have left some sort of a "vestige" in 

 your nervous system. But swamp birds and waterfowl 

 are not characteristic of this region, and their study offers 

 nothing ornithologically new. A single specimen of the 

 Western variety of our song sparrow was noticed, but 

 seemed somewhat out of place in the midst of numerous 

 crown sparrows of the "intermedia" type. This pretty 

 sparrow with its black-bordered white crown and cheery 

 note is common and familiar. Its flocks offer an inter- 

 esting evidence of evolution, for the last year's birds pre- 

 sent so different an appearance as to puzzle us exceedingly 

 until they were placed alongside the mature form. The 

 middle of the head is gray, shading into a Naples yellow 

 on the forehead, while on either side is a broad, distinct 

 rufous band. There is no black anywhere, and we are 

 compelled to believe that this first color pattern is a sur- 

 vival of some primitive race plumage. 



On our return to the house a note which sounded 

 strangely familiar apprised me of the presence of a fly- 

 catcher. Yonder he sits, with the same easy indifference 

 as to the set of his tail and ruffing up his crown as if for- 

 getting that it possessed neither crest nor gaudy cap. I 

 never see a flycatcher without remembering an old remark 

 of my four-year-old as we passed a Friends' meeting 

 house: "Plain and unpretentious, like the habits of the 

 people." Yet Say's flycatcher has sufficient salmon- 

 brown upon its crissum and under parts to lift him above 

 the inspired monotony of color prevalent in the group. 

 Surely, that was a chickadee. The note was unmistak- 

 able and when we catch sight of him, black cap and gor- 

 get complete the illusion. Closer observation detects the 

 broad, white line over the eye characteristic of the moun- 

 tain species. So we constantly make the mistake of 

 greeting effusively a familiar acquaintance only to dis- 

 cover that it is really a distant relative after all. 



To me the oddest of these pseudo acquaintances was the 

 crissal thrasher. Instead of the honest, expansive brown 

 of our home bird, he wears colors almost as inconspicu- 

 ous as those of the catbird, with the same fulvous crissum. 

 The beak is enormous and curved like a bow— altogether 

 a faded parody of H. rufus. 



Even as we sat at dinner our attention was frequently 

 diverted to other diners outside. First among these was 

 the shrike, which our friend assured us was a thoroughly 

 domesticated individual, He had learned that, when the 

 lizards retire to their winter quarters and the smaller 

 feathered migrants have passed southward, Dame Nature 

 had spread humbler fare in the shape of crinkly cater- 

 pillars concealed beneath the alfalla leaves and dead 

 flower stalks in the lawn, 



We hardly recognized the fierce butcher bird of sum- 

 mer whose larder we had often seen in the thorny shrubs 

 and whose shrill cries had been the terrors of countless 

 smaller birds in this fluffy and dainty beauty, who 

 labored with such zest under our very Window to unearth 

 the "vermin,'* with a half confident half shy glance at us 

 from time to time. On viewing the bird thus at close 

 quarters one is struck with the same impression produced 

 by the raccoon, that the creature is blind. This is evi- 

 dently due in both cases to the dark band passing 

 through the eyes, which may be of advantage to a preda- 

 cious animal in masking its alert and concentrated gaze, 

 for animals watch the eyes of their pui'su'er. How differ- 

 ent is a real live bird from the conventional mounted 

 animall Every feather and contour is expressive. At 

 the present moment our shrike is a mere fluffy ball of 

 white and gray. A sudden noise transforms him into a 

 clean-cut image of watchfulness "with feathers closed to 

 produce the fine contour of the powerful supple body, 

 and anon he darts away with intermittent flashes of 

 white, like a firefly. 



He is hardly gone when we are aware that there is an- 

 other applicant at the door. This time it is a dainty gray 

 and white rock wren — a wren surely by every spasmodic, 

 jerky twitch of his wiry little body, fully attested by the 

 slender, curved bill, but tailed in a fashion quite unlike its 

 Eastern congeners. Instead of the ill-balanced and un- 

 controllable little appendage which our Eastern wrens 

 Bhoulder like a musket or switch like a baton, all the West- 

 ern wrens have respectable fan-tails of reasonable size. 

 The rock wren is relatively common about the mountain 

 base, and its shrill, trilling cry may be heard at almost 

 any time. Now, however, she is too busy to vocalize, and 

 is hustling leaves about with swift lateral movements of 

 the bill and uncovering worms and slugs in the most 

 businesslike manner imaginable. Yet the wrens never 

 become so absorbed as to entirely neglect their most char- 

 acteristic gesture. Tnis consists in a sudden crouching, 

 followed by a jerk, which almost hurls them into the air. 

 It is essentially the movement preliminary to flight, but is 

 repeated incessantly even during meals, when no thought 

 of flight can be assumed. It seems to be simply a habit- 

 ual method of nervous discharge. Much yet remains to 

 be done in the study of the psychology of birds, and 

 among the problems to be solved is the origin of the ex- 

 pressive motions of various birds. Many of them are at 

 present quite unintelligible, but would doubtless yield 

 interesting results to research. Some one should analyze 

 the expressions of excitement in the various groups, and 

 discover the causes of variation, This constant "bobbing" 

 or courtesying of the wren becomes positively annoying, 

 and we shall not mourn her departure. 

 We have just finished our meal when we are treated to 



a pretty sight. Deceived by the quiet, a covey of hel- 

 meted or shell quail, which make their home on the ranch, 

 haB settled near us, and now, under the guidance of an old 

 bird, is marshalled just beyond the doorstep. It is a sight 

 to make every nerve tingle. The white crests are well up 

 and the rapid route step and quick foraging movements, 

 which seem purely incidental, give a military air to the 

 company. There must be twenty in the covey. But 

 where is the boy? Bangl comes the answer from the 

 woodshed, and with a sudden whirr the animated group 

 disappears as by magic, except for two struggling vic- 

 tims whom neither beauty of plumage nor grace of 

 motion can preserve from the commonplace fate of the 

 pot. This species is the game bird of New Mexico and 

 Arizona, though the plumed species are also found in the 

 mountains. 



After dinner we again embarked in the ark and were 

 soon rattling over rocky roads toward one of the pictur- 

 esque canons where an irrigation company was planning 

 a dam and an extensive reservoir. As the Magdalenas 

 came into sight we were treated to a rare and curious 

 phenomenon. The sky was clear and cloudless, but a 

 slight haziness toward the north indicated that more 

 humid air was being wafted from that direction. Sud- 

 denly above the snow-capped peaks of the highest range 

 there appeared a series of tolerable imitations of these 

 peaks moulded of cloud banks. Over each peak there 

 hung, at a height of perhaps 100ft., such a cloudy cor- 

 onet, which hovered a few moments above it and was 

 soon wafted beyond the chilling influence and melted 

 again into thin air. It seems fanciful to speak of radiant 

 cold, but the condensation of vapor at such a height by 

 absorption of heat from a column of air seems almost to 

 warrant it and illustrates how concrete an effect the lack 

 of a thing may produce. But this has been often enough 

 illustrated in our own pockets to make it superfluous. 

 These cloudy coronets reappeared at intervals for over an 

 hour until the incoming air had been heated throughout 

 by the radiation from the earth. 



The open mesa was enlivened here and there by noisy 

 flocks of sage sparrows which offered much amusement 

 by the peculiar employment of a disproportionately long 

 tail. Although a good runner, this sparrow has not be- 

 come thoroughly terrestrial, and is withal both inquisitive 

 and impetuous. The first trait impels him to inspect the 

 new-comers from close quarters, and the second sends him 

 off in a short spurt first on the wing and then on foot. 

 The impetus acquired is excessive, and as the body begins 

 to outgo the feet the long, black oar-like tail is whipped 

 up to act as a counterpoise and brake in the oddest 

 manner. He is a companionable little fellow, with a dash 

 of yellow at the shoulder, a single spot on the breast and 

 pale cheeks. The white spot over the eye redeems his 

 countenance from plainness, but the whole dress is mod- 

 est and inconspicuous. Like many of our smaller birds 

 the outer tail feather has a white stripe to serve as a 

 "recognition mark," but the bird does not display it, as 

 the true migrants do. A curious obsolescent transverse 

 banding of the tail below is also a peculiarity which 

 seems to have escaped observation. 



Speaking of recognition marks, no better illustration 

 could be found than that afforded by the snowbird, not 

 distantly related to the sage sparrow. The Western vari- 

 ety, with bright chocolate markings and warm brown 

 back, is abundant, but exceedingly cautious. Contrary to 

 our expectations, the color pattern is remarkably uniform, 

 and we find none of the intermediate forms connecting 

 with the dull, slaty variety of Ohio. The flight of the 

 snowbird is interesting because of the very conspicuous 

 way in which it spreads its tail and exhibits the strongly 

 contrasting white feathers during its jerky progress. 

 There can be no doubt that this habit is of the greatest 

 service during migration in preventing straying from the 

 flock. But fortune favors us to-day, and we bag a couple 

 of much rarer sparrows, which, although placed in the 

 same genus as the sage sparrow, are much more aristo- 

 cratic in appearance. The black-faced 6age sparrow bears 

 a well-defined black escutcheon upon his breast and has 

 very decided white blotches on the tail. The note is 

 searching and peculiar, and, so far as our guide had seen, 

 those birds cling ^closer to the foothills. There was no 

 mistaking a resemblance to the snowbird, though it is 

 difficult to locate it. 



We were now passing through the romantic canon 

 where it was evident even to the eye of the laity that a 

 retaining wall a few yards long and 20ft. high would 

 form an immense reservoir whence water could be con- 

 ducted to thousands of acres of fine orchard land. A 

 shrill strident trill caught our ear. There, darting in 

 and out among the rocks, was the image of the wren of 

 the noon hour, but with an apron of warm yellowish 

 brown reaching to the upper breast, while the latter and 

 the throat showed white by contrast. The bill is longer 

 and the bearing more shy. The upper parts are brown 

 and rufous with curious "eye spots" sprinkled over them. 

 The reddish barred tail is fan-like and the wings are also 

 barred. The bird is in incessant motion, uttering at in- 

 tervals the loud trilling cry which has a metal lie resonance 

 as it echoes among the rocks. Curious to know the 

 errand which busies the little fidget among the rocks, we 

 are not long in discovering among the lichens vast num- 

 bers of cocoons and larwal shells of caterpillars, now 

 naostly*despoiled of their contents. This then is the canon 

 wren, and well named too, for it seems never to leave the 

 shelter, afforded by these deep clefts. Perhaps the very 

 peculiarities of color which separate it from the closely 

 allied rock wren grow out of an assimilation to its rocky 

 environs. 



At the upper end of the cafion we encountered a flock 

 of conspicuous, loud-voiced birds busy upon the ground 

 as though it were their habitual feeding place. The shrill 

 cry echoed back and forth among the rocks, but awoke no 

 memory of ours. It was not a difficult matter to secure a 

 bag by practicing on the curiosity and temerity of these 

 birds, but it was more difficult to discover why they were 

 called "towhees," and why Goues should have described 

 the particular form — Pipilo mesoleucus — as he did in his 

 key. It is an interesting bird, over 8in. long, with very 

 decidedly rufous head and almost black tail, but slightly 

 tipped with salmon at the end (as though the tail had 

 inadvertently dipped in the paint pot). The throat is 

 dingy yellow, marked especially about the margin with 

 black spots. An obscure black blotch on the breast and 

 white shirt front, closely guarded by the dusky gray of the 

 sides and upper parts and very decided tawny on the 

 belly and coverts, complete a sufficiently noteworthy tout 

 ensemble, The amount of white varies, but in winter 



birds the color pattern is otherwise quite constant. 



"But can you show me none of the old friends in your 

 far-away land?" "Yes," was the reply, "yonder on the 

 rock near the foot of the cafion is a dove which might 

 just as well have been mourning its soul away at your 

 bedroom window. There seems to be no varietal differ- 

 ence between the extremes in this species. The doves 

 are common along the river bottoms, but, as you see, an 

 occasional one wanders into the mountains." No other 

 pigeon occurs here during winter. 



I remarked on the paucity of woodpeckers. "Yes," 

 said my companion, "the tree-loving birds have a bad 

 outlook. Occasionally a red-winged flicker displays his 

 gaudy colors on the ranch, but he does not stay long. A 

 family of Harris's woodpeckers lived in a hole in the cor- 

 nice of our house, and became quite the household penates 

 to us; but to see what we can do in the way of Picidae, 

 you should go among the old orchards on the river bot- 

 toms. Here both the downy and hairy woodpeckers are 

 represented by less spotted Western varieties, though I see 

 no difference in habits." 



As we were speaking there was a swift hurtle of wings, 

 and the graceful, sharp-shinned hawk which I had ob- 

 served on a rock above us veered away with a screaming 

 sage sparrow in it3 talons. Hawks of many species are 

 abundant at Socorro. 



It was regretfully that I recognized that this day on a 

 New Mexican ranch was drawing to a close. The rattling 

 mountain wagon was bearing us swiftly to the station, but 

 I could catch glimpses of wide, fertile, fields, where the 

 weary teams were drawing their la3t furrow, and great 

 hordes of blackbirds rose, hovered, and sank to their 

 never-ending repast. 



In the Btreets were numbers of lazy plunderers in 

 speckled gray and brown. House sparrows? Yes; but 

 not Passer domesticus. It is the crimson-fronted finch 

 (Carpodaeus). The males, gorgeous in frontlet and gor- 

 get of dusky crimson, are vastly fewer than the plain, 

 dusky, streaky females, and we gather that polygamy still 

 prevails in these parts of Mexico and the laws may labor 

 long to extirpate it. At any rate, far better tolerate our 

 own criminals than the transported convicts of Europe. 

 Almost as familiar, too, are the shore larks, whose ven- 

 triloquist notes have haunted us during our whole drive. 

 But there is no time to lose, and as the train slowly pulls 

 out for El Paso we lean far out the window to catch the 

 mellow, rich notes of the meadow lark. None of the 

 clear intonations are wanting — they are pure as the gold 

 of his own breast, which seems coined to produce this 

 our vesper and our farewell. C. L. Herrick.. 



New Mexico. 



MY LADY'S PLUMES. 



You observed the hat of the lady who walked in front 

 of you down the fashionable part of the main street the 

 other day— the elegantly dressed lady who looked at peo- 

 ple with her eyes half shut to avoid seeing too much of 

 anything not distinguished as herself. My lady is ac- 

 cepted as of the haute noblesse of our civilization, but in 

 reality she is a savage, as her head dress, gaudy, flaunting 

 and barbaric as any paint mark or tattoo, testifies beyond 

 a doubt. Pardon my lady for that, for the heritage of 

 her sex, hanging on longer than the other to savage cus- 

 toms, constrains her first of all and at any cost of civiliza- 

 tion to attract the attention of the opposite sex. Pardon 

 my lady her hat, and she being what she is, pardon her 

 also for looking with her half-shut eyes clear above the 

 head of this Bhop girl, prettier, perhaps, than she is, and 

 probably a better woman. You have not distinguished in 

 these matters. You have not noticed, perhaps, that on 

 my lady's hat are some tall, pliant plumes, long as those 

 of the ostrich, but far more beautiful, with delicate fila- 

 ments as light as frost work on a winter window. The 

 shop girl's hat has none of these. On my lady's hat they 

 rise, cardinal, orange, blue, green or pure white, stream- 

 ing, dipping and nodding— accomplishing, in short, my 

 lady's barbaric purpose to a nicety, inasmuch as they com- 

 pel your attention from the humble shop girl who, all 

 things being equal, might be a dangerous rival in the war 

 which all women have against all other women in the 

 world. 



These long, filmy plumes on my lady's hat are the 

 plumes of the white egret. Naturally, they are pure 

 white, barring a little stain on the tips where the bird 

 drags them in the muddy water; but pure white not being 

 barbaric enough for the uses of civilization — though 

 it used to serve Southern Indians who wore these plumes 

 — they are dyed any color of the rainbow, losing thereby 

 none of their gracefulness and only some of their beauty. 



My lady's hat, if worn too long, will lose its purpose 

 and cease to attract. She must therefore change it. 

 The plumes in the new hat must be of different color. 

 Forthtse new plumes she looks to her milliner. The 

 milliner looks to the great wholesale supply house of the 

 metropolis. The wholesale supply house looks — and with 

 much anxiety, these days— to Thomas Jones, market 

 shooter, or technically speaking, plumage hunter. 



Thos. Jones knows where there is an egret roost, or as he 

 will call it, a "white crane roost." Really, he does not mean 

 a roost so much as a nesting ground, where thousands 

 of birds nest in a small tract of the isolated wet forest or 

 "dead-tree swamp." Such rookeries were once common in 

 Florida, but are so no longer. Thomas Jones may know 

 of cne in Mississippi, Louisiana or Texas, and holds him- 

 self fortunate if he does, for they are scarce enough 

 to-day. Wherever it is, it is sure to be miles from a hab- 

 itation, in the most desolate and inaccessible part of the 

 wildest country, where moccasins and alligators are sole 

 residents, where the only trails are the endless bayous, 

 and where malaria reeks in every foot of the sodden 

 ground. It would seem that here the egrets would be 

 safe, and that no man would risk his life by pushing into 

 a poison-laden swamp whence he might never emerge 

 alive. This does not deter Thomas Jones, who takes a 

 month's supplies in his boat, and with little else but a 

 ,22-cal. rifle or light shotgun, his ammunition and a big 

 bottle of quinine in bulk, boldly pushes into the wilder- 

 ness after the "roost" which he may have located a year, 

 two years or three years ago, and whose whereabouts he 

 has guarded carefully as a banker guards his gold. 



Mind you, the plumage hunter does not go into the roost 

 until spring has well advanced. When he reaches the 

 roost the low trees, bushes and grassy brush clumps are 

 full of nests, and the nests are or soon will be full of 

 young birds. The busy life of the colony goes on. The 

 parents come and go, traveling no one knows how far to 

 get food for the gaping young birds in the nest. Thomas 



