Sept., 1916 
MEETING SPRING HALF WAY 
185 
ors and songs. An Indigo Bird back from its winter in Mexico or Central Am- 
erica, and our first Cuckoo, back from South America, were found here, and 
after listening to the voice of a Chat we caught sight of its brilliant yellow 
breast in the mesquite. A Wren, having probably wintered near home, was 
already beginning to build, being seen carrying a stick up through a streamer 
of moss. Hearing a bright pleasing song that resembled the Indigo Bunting’s, 
I followed it up till, on a bare tree top in the sun I discovered — a Nonpareil, 
the familiar many colored cage bird! A Red-bellied Woodpecker came flying 
in to the bridge over the creek, but seeing us withdrew to watch us from 
around a corner. Besides these, there were Mockingbirds and a family of 
Harris Hawks, the handsome southerners. Their nest, a heavy platform of 
sticks in the top of a moss-draped hackberry, was littered with fur and bones, 
a dozen wood rat skulls among the number. The large well feathered nestlings 
had the same handsome rufous patches that distinguish the parents. The 
guardian of the nest, perhaps made unduly anxious by our presence, stood for 
a long time on the bare top of a tree that commanded the situation, and like 
a preoccupied philosopher ignored the hysterical attacks of a Mocker, doubt- 
less another parent merely expressing his responsibility in terms of his own 
nervous temperament. 
After Petranilla Creek, our next objective point was King’s Ranch, fifty 
miles west of Corpus Christi, across broad stretches of flat blooming prairie, 
with successive bands of pink and white primroses. Where there were no 
fences the migrating Doves and white-winged Lark Buntings perched on the 
cactus pads, edging gingerly along as if fully mindful of the sharp spines. Once 
in passing we caught a delightful wave of song from the white wings. Fences 
were so rare that they were taken advantage of, and one corral that we passed 
was occupied by hundreds of Mourning Doves as close as beads on a string. 
At San Fernando Creek a herd of range cattle reminded our Texas camp 
man that in a dry time thousands of cattle had been saved by having the spines 
burned off the cactus so that it could be fed to them. The old man warned us 
when looking for birds to ‘watch out’ for rattlesnakes, for he said in such hot 
weather the snakes stayed in the shade in the day time. As they were the 
large diamond backs of Texas and Florida whose long fangs put a dangerous 
amount of poison into the circulation, his warning had some point. At San 
Fernando Creek new flowers came in, a magenta Mexican poppy, a small mes- 
quite with fragrant blossoms, and a bright red flowered cactus, followed later 
by blue-bonnets. The heat that made the cactus bloom also produced our first 
mirage. The spring migrants had need to hurry, but besides the white wings 
we noted a tardy Ovenbird, a Black-throated Green Warbler, and a Clay-col- 
ored Sparrow, on this, the twenty-fifth day of April. 
Our second night’s camp was on King’s Ranch, one of the largest cattle 
ranches of Texas, where we met the Brownsville and Alice stage road and 
turned south across the rich stock range. The cattle king was at that time a 
cattle queen who spent her winters in New York, leaving her superintendent 
in charge. At his advice we camped at Santa Gertrude, as two windmills and 
their water tanks were called. A vivid green circle enclosed by mesquites 
branching to the ground with abundant water made indeed a camping place 
to commemorate a saint. Quail, a pair of Cardinals, and a pair of Thrashers 
carrying food showed their appreciation of the tanks, which were evidently 
well known in the region. As we had been warned regarding fellow travelers 
