Sept., [903 | 
THE CONDOR 
119 
arroyo, narrow and rocky in the center of the canyon, and found shady pools of 
clear cold rain water not yet evaporated from their cisterns of stone. Wending 
our way along and exploring many grotesque caves with the prints of buzzards, 
coyotes and wild cats on the sandy floors, constantly alert against surprise by the 
chance rattlesnake, we came into close quarters with a skunk and disposed of him 
without any inconvenience to ourselves, and in a large cave wherein we were at- 
tracted by a white-throated swift {Aeronantes melanoleucus') that had its nest in a 
cleft in the “ceiling,” we tried to mix up with a wild cat that retreated far back to 
safety in a dark and narrow passage. By a circuituous climb we gained the ledge 
where the falcon fed. This ledge skirts the top of the canyon for a hundred feet 
or more and then breaks up into sandstone hummocks and rocky pinnacles, ten- 
anted by the drow'sy barn owl and sluggish turkey vulture. The height of the 
ledge is less than 200 feet at any place and the hill over the nest slopes gently up- 
ward and is well covered with chemise, sage, manzanita, suddenly changing to 
scrub-oak and timber with grass and low growing vegetation. The male took 
wing off a resting place close to the nest as we were making the circuituous climb, 
while the female, a very close sitter, closer than any of the duck hawks that have 
come under my observation, waited until we were almost over her, then darted 
out on a downward curve with great speed, for almost sixty yards, then rose to a 
height about twenty-five feet above us and flew to and fro over the canyon in 
trips about 2000 yards long, just out of gun range, almost constantly emitting a 
vociferous cackling or screeching. She continued in this manner for the space of 
half an hour and became more excited and approached closer at my descent to the 
nest, which was a small cave in the face of the smooth concave surface of the ledge 
and only eight feet from the top. The male remained flying about farther away 
and much higher, being much less concerned than his mate, finally alighting upon 
a dead limb across the canyon and then uttering a few short notes of one syllable, 
sometimes doubled by quick repetition; a sort of chug with considerable squeak to 
it. The actions of both birds were much the same as those of the duck hawk upon 
such occasions, but noticeably less fierce. The cackling or screeching was of 
about the same duration and in detail but of a different key. The flight of both 
species is quite similar, being rapid, of short, frequent strokes, producing a gliding 
motion, and at a distance reminding one of large swifts. Tittle sailing is indulged 
in except at considerable elevation at which time it is done in a circular course 
and within a defined radius. 
After adjusting the rope about me, I made the descent but found the nest de- 
void of eggs so went downward a few feet and stood braced on a narrow’’ foothold 
while my helper moved the slack rope preparatory to inve.stigating other potholes 
and clefts, the wind and force of gravity sending quantities of sand down my neck 
and into my eyes, from the friction of the rope on the soft rocks. 1 was soon sat- 
ified the bird had deposited no eggs, but was only holding down her claim prepar- 
atory to depositing the second set. There was insufficient rope, by sixty feet, to 
allow me to reach foothold below but my helper hauled me up the last few feet, 
150 pounds dead weight, overcoming the friction of the rope besides. He sat, 
braced on the surface of the sloping hill, with a hole kicked for either heel, and 
occomplished a feat of main strength that I have no desire to be accessory to again 
The following year found us on this exact spot at 10:15 a. m., April 2, a heavy 
fog over all, which allowed us to approach within ten feet of the male keeping 
vigil in a small cave to one side of the nest. He flew towards and past us, creat- 
