Jan., 1905 
THE CONDOR 
1 1 
Among the finch family, lark sparrows were the most plentiful. Scattered 
flocks, often mixed with bluebirds and linnets, were continually flushed from the 
road-side through the dryer portions of the valley. About a tule-bordered pond 
were a number of song sparrows, which I was anxious to secure, because one of the 
subspecies was described from here. But the sparrows refused to be enticed into 
the open by any variety of curiosity-arousing squeaks we could produce. Most of 
the specimens finally procured came incidentally by way of our small mammal 
traps set for voles and harvest-mice and baited with rolled oats. A grosbeak and 
tow bee also fell victims to these indiscriminating contrivances. 
Of all the birds of the neighborhood, the most insistent upon our attention 
were the California woodpeckers. The oaks furnish these droll birds with a gen- 
erous livelihood, so they seem to have plenty of time for all sorts of nonsensical 
performances. Their medley of quavering nasal notes echoed among the oaks 
from daylight till dark. Sometimes a “carpintero,” as the vaqueros call this bird, 
would repair to the roof which yet remains on one of the large barracks and now 
used to shelter the hay crop, and selecting a loose shake, would pound on it for a 
half hour at a time, making as much noise as a lather, and evidently enjoying it. 
The wood-work under the eaves and around the doors and windows, which we 
were told had been shipped to California around the Horn, was perforated with 
holes made by the woodpeckers to fit the white-oak acorns. In some places the 
boards were quite symmetrically inlaid with acorns, just as the old doors were 
studded with wrought nails. 
Near the skinning-table was a baling-wire line stretched between two trees. 
On this the vaqueros had hung out a batch of meat in strips to dry. Most of this 
had been gathered in; but a few strands of beef suet still depended from the wflre, 
and to this woodpeckers and slender-billed nuthatches made many visits each day. 
They would either perch on the line or cling to the strips to peck off bits of the 
fat of which they seemed very fond. It was seldom that two woodpeckers re- 
mained peaceably feeding together very long at a time. One or the other would 
be driven off after much dodging and scolding. But it was no unusual thing to 
see a nuthatch and a woodpecker industriously pecking away at the same piece of 
jerky, apparently taking little notice of each other. 
From the grassy stretches high on the canyon sides could now and then be 
heard the wierd notes of the rufous-crowned sparrow, contrasted with the more 
sprightly song of the least vireo from the poison-oak clumps nearby. Outcrop- 
pings of rock on the hillsides below the Fort afforded congenial homes for the 
canyon and rock wrens, full-grown young of which were common. A surprise was 
afforded in the presence of the Sierra creeper, numbers of which were to be seen 
and heard in company with plain titmouses and nuthatches in a particularly dense 
grove of oaks below the Fort. Their faint wiry “tee, tee, te-deedle-de wee” re- 
minded us of the conifers of a higher zone. 
Ravens often flew by overhead in pairs, heads on one side, and croaking war- 
ily. One afternoon a flock of fully fifty convened on a neighboring hilltop. After 
an hour’s parleying and restless moving about, the whole band took flight circled 
upwards awhile, and then started off east on a bee-line, doubtless with intent to 
visit either the almond orchards or grasshoppery fields of Antelope Valley. Dixon 
discovered a number of ravens quietly bathing in a willow-skirted pond, and suc- 
ceeded in crawling within range unnoticed. As a result, the peaceful ablutions 
were interrupted, and a pair of these tantalizingly shy birds found their way into 
the collecting-chest. 
As is usual on stock ranges turkey buzzards were numerous; and the vaqueros 
