20 
LAND OF SUNSHINE. 
his home is alwa) r s in the chaparral. From the Sacra¬ 
mento Valley to California’s southernmost hem this 
thrasher is abundant. His highest perch ma} r be the top¬ 
most twig of a buckthorn, or the tapering finger of a scrub 
oak, not a high pedestal to be sure, but it answers the pur¬ 
pose of a stage for the little singer. And how he sings ! 
His notes are variable, being composed of snatches of bor¬ 
rowed music, and yet so soft and beautiful that they seem 
distinctly his own. He sings on for hours, especially in the 
early morning, without regard to breakfast, until he feels 
the pangs of hunger, such pangs no doubt being accentu¬ 
ated by the faint movement of the dry leaves under the 
perch of the singer. And then the musician becomes the 
common drudge for dail} 7 ' bread, the “Adam in the garden,” 
the ordinary farmer who must grub for a living. And he 
knows where and how to make the best of the situation. 
If it were possible to domesticate the California Thrasher 
it would rival the farmyard fowls in a raid on the pansy 
beds ; for of all birds that love to scratch and dig in loose 
light soil, the thrasher would take the medal. His long, 
curved bill was made on purpose to investigate the retreat 
of grub and larvae, and woe be to any insect of edible 
virtue which comes within his reach ! He digs holes in 
the ground just for fun, if there be no food in sight, and 
would no doubt bore for oil, were it not that he is neither a 
capitalist nor a broker. In captivity this inclination to dig 
holes in something with his marvelous beak still is his, 
and so he is given a stale loaf of bread wherein he pecks to 
his heart’s content. A break in the plastering on the wall 
once discovered, the bird never forgets its exact location 
and keeps on at his “ calling.” With him the instinct that 
treasure is always buried has made him almost a genius. 
During July and August the thrasher moults and then 
only is his voice unheard. After breakfast, and his usual 
exercise, he mounts to his twig again and sings. If inter¬ 
rupted by the approach of a stranger he does not fly but 
simply drops out of sight on the side of the bush or tree 
opposite the intruder. 
If not followed, the bird runs along to the next bush, 
where he hops up through the foliage to the topmost twig 
and goes on with his music. If pursued, he does not take 
long flights, but runs swiftly, as only a road runner (be¬ 
sides himself) can run. Nor does he go over the tops of 
bushes, but around and between them, always keeping out 
of sight. If by luck}- chance the observer does catch a 
glimpse of him, his body will be seen tilted slightly for¬ 
ward and his tail at an angle of 35°. 
The California Thrasher nests as early as the hummer. 
