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singer was the Chinese spotted dove. The Micheners have published 
distinguished studies on their banded birds, particularly house finches and 
mockingbirds. 
One day we drove from my daughter’s home near the Pacific ocean 
thrcugh the San Fernando valley to the Mojave desert. The Joshua trees 
were spectacular, but otherwise the desert was disappointing with hardly 
a cactus and most of the vegetation dull and dried except for some bronze- 
green creosote bushes. Birds were scarce. We returned through the San 
Gabriel mountains, finding rich chaparral, pines and spruce, and even snow 
that charmed my small grandsons. 
For the Easter week-end we journeyed down into Mexico. The drive to 
San Diego was disappointing — too many oil wells, too many people, hills 
covered with grass instead of chaparral, few birds until we reached the 
Lt. Maxon Sanctuary where there were shovellers, ruddy ducks, coots and 
both egrets. San Diego’s zoo is a gorgeous place, spectacularly situated, 
and excellently arranged and labelled under the direction of Mrs. Belle 
Benchly; large eucalyptus trees and a wide variety of palms grow up and 
dcwn the canyons. To our surprise wild mourning doves allowed approach 
within a few feet, picking up peanuts thrown to them. 
At Tijuana we crossed the border and drove some 70 miles into Lower 
California. The hills were covered with Shaw’s agave, a few in beautiful 
bloom, with a scattering of fine Englemann’s torch cacti; lupines and other 
wild flowers were abundant, while on rocky cliffs grew curious “hens and 
chickens” — Dudleya brittoni. The birds were mostly Brewer’s blackbirds 
and redwings, with only two hawks on the 200 mile trip. 
On Estero beach on Todos Santos bay just south of Ensenada we set 
up our tent and peacefully slept with frogs singing on one side, the surf 
on the other. Western and ring-billed gulls screamed early in the morning; 
two red-breasted mergiansers swam in the bay 
and a raven flew over. A dozen American 
egrets fed in an inlet; like most of the birds 
we met in Mexico they were wary. I searched 
the salt marsh where I was fascinated by the 
dark red seedlings of halberd-leaved orache, 
as symmetrical as a medallion in an Old World 
cathedral. Here were green-backed goldfinches 
and a few migrant sparrows, but most abun- 
dant and interesting were Belding’s sparrows that looked like a cross 
between song and Savannah sparrows. They were preparing to nest in 
the glasswort (Salicornia), displaying and singing their buzzy songs. 
On the trip home I noted but one raptor, a sparrow hawk. It had been 
good to see empty land. I like to remember the purple-green mountains, 
the impressive agaves and torch cacti, the Pacific ocean — a country that 
is still somewhat wild and not cluttered up with people. 
In early April I traveled north to Monterey county; the green-blue 
Pacific was magnificent, but the completely bare hills — result of drouth 
and over-grazing — in the Salinas valley were appalling. In Carmel the 
