220 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XIV 
blue lupine changed to short buffalo-grass and prickly pear, and the bird voices 
changed from Vesper Sparrows and Meadowlarks, to Horned Larks and Mc- 
Cown Longspurs. Far to the north lay an irregular line of dark green cotton- 
woods, marking the course of the South Fork of the Sun River, and I knew 
that somewhere along its banks lay the town of Augusta. The town, however, 
was on the north side of the stream and completely hidden from my view behind 
the cottonwoods, so that I was at a loss to know toward which part of the stream 
to ride. As I drew nearer I made out a ranch building on the south side of the 
stream and heading toward that, soon struck a road which by good luck, crossed 
the stream on a bridge, but a quarter of a mile above the town. 
The next day was the last of the trip, and over a road with which I was 
already familiar. Chouteau lay but twenty-eight miles to the north. Four 
miles out from Augusta I crossed the North Fork of the Sun River, which 
forms the boundary between Lewis and Clark and Teton counties. On the other 
side of the river the road led to the top of a long, level, prairie bench, where it 
remained nearly all the way to Chouteau. At one place in a hollow beside the 
road, lay one of the small alkaline ponds which are characteristic of this section 
of the country. I left my horse to graze beside the road, and took a walk around 
the borders of the pond to see what birds were in the vicinity. A few weeks 
ago 1 had explored this same pond, and had found many pairs of Avocets and 
Wilson Phalaropes evidently breeding. In fact I remember two half-grown 
Avocets, struggling through the green scum that bordered the pond and swim- 
ming away into the open water at my approach, while their parents circled about 
my head. Now they had all left and the only water birds seen were a flock of 
ducks, principally Mallards and Baldpates, swimming about near the edge of 
a small grassy island. Horned Larks and Longspurs fed about the edge of the 
pond, the Longspurs walking daintily over the green scum at the edge, and eating 
the small insects that swarmed there. Several young Longspurs, barely able to 
fly, were here with their parents, and one such had evidently come to grief in 
its efforts to imitate its parents’ example, and was drowned in the midst of the 
scum. 
So far the weather had 1)een perfect throughout the trip, but now as I rode 
over the prairie bench, I noticed a thunderstorm coming up. I saw that unless 
I soon got under cover I was in for a wetting, so noticing" an old sheep camp in 
a coulee on the east side of the bench, I turned down there and found shelter for 
myself and my horse under the shed. The storm came and I was glad I was 
not out in it, for the rain soon turned to hail, with stones large enough to be de- 
cidedly uncomfortable. Even during the storm I found birds to watch, for a 
Say Phoebe and a small flock of Longspurs came under the shed to seek shelter 
also. 1 he Phoebe sat on a beam under the roof, quiet save for an occasional 
flirt of the tail, but the Longspurs walked alx)ut, feeding on the g'round under the 
shed as though they Avere out in the open in the best of weather. 
When the storm was over I proceeded on my way. The sun shone out ag'ain 
over the dripping prairie, and the Longspurs broke into song everywhere as 
though it were a morning chorus. Finally I came to the end of the long bench 
and the road wound downward through a group of curiously shaped rocks. A 
colony of Cliff SwalloAvs were nesting" on the sides of one of these rocks, while 
a Rock Wren in song, and a Duck Hawk, Avheeling over the prairie Avere other 
birds that^ probably had their homes there. Around a bend in the road I soon 
came in sight of the^ Teton River Wiley and the toAvn of Chouteau among the 
cottoiiAvoods of the river bank. 
