PeLleeAatsl sobs Ne ebettLL Bt rN 7 
He did, running down the road just as a road-runner should, then off 
through the chaparral to prove the aptness of his other name, the chapar- 
ral cock. 
We also got a close view of a clapper rail swimming across a narrow 
inlet and strolling up the mudbank into the rushes from which he is so 
often heard but so seldom seen. We retraced Mrs. Hagar’s route the next 
day and explored a few other roads in the area, but we soon were convinced 
that the birds knew she was not along. We got a total of 64 by noon, but 
added to the trip list only the marbled godwit, which we had seen in Flori- 
da, and the Cuban snowy plover, a life lister. Long-billed curlews were 
everywhere in sizable fiocks, and we got another road-runner and more 
white-faced glossy ibis. We had seen white ibis the day before. We drove 
on to Corpus Christi that day and to Harlingen the next, which was Fri- 
day. 
En route to Harlingen we got our first ferruginous rough-legged hawk, 
cinnamon teal, six scissor-tailed flycatchers, and several Harris’s hawks. 
On a pond south of Harlingen we saw our first Texas kingfisher on a perch 
only a few feet below an eastern belted kingfisher. Both could be seen at 
the same time in the glasses, giving an excellent comparison of size and 
color. The little Texas bird is nearsighted, and perches only a few feet 
above the water. Nearsighted or not, he makes some astounding catches 
for a bird his size. 
I had not written to Irby Davis, whom I knew only by reputation. Both 
Williams and Mrs. Hagar had advised us to look him up. I found his num- 
ber in the telephone book, called him and simply told him we were a party 
from Chicago looking for birds and would appreciate being told some places 
te go. When I told him where we were staying he said a young man stay- 
ing there also was scheduled to come over to his home in a few minutes 
and suggested I find him and come along. We found him, Horace Jeter of 
Shreveport, La., and he, Anne and I went to the Davis address. Jeter had 
met the Davises only the night before and had spent the day in Santa Ana 
refuge, looking for a specific list of birds he had drawn up as possibilities 
before leaving home. He had failed to find three of them, and was back 
for more advice! 
Within a few minutes we felt that we were part of the family. When 
they found that besides the valley birds we hoped to see some desert 
species, Mrs. Davis, a biology teacher in the high school, suggested that we 
all go over to Terry Gill’s house, as Gill was the authority on desert birds. 
Off we went, arriving to find that it was a pre-arranged date with the 
Gills for a birthday party for Mrs. Gill. Jeter told us later that the night 
before it had been a party for Mrs. Davis’ birthday, at which he was a 
guest. Mixed in with the birthday festivities we examined maps on which 
Gill pointed out spots where we should find the pyrrhuloxia, the scaled 
quail, black-throated (desert) sparrow, and other upland specialties. 
Meanwhile Davis had described for us the Santa Ana refuge, where he 
said every one of the valley birds could be found if you spent enough time. 
He offered, and we accepted with alacrity, to accompany us on a birding 
trip to the gulf coast Sunday morning for shore birds and Sennett’s white- 
