File:A-birding on a bronco (1896) (14563653889).jpg

Identifier: abirdingonbronco00bail (find matches)
Title: A-birding on a bronco
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors: Bailey, Florence Augusta (Merriam), 1863-
Subjects: Birds Birds
Publisher: Boston, New York, Houghton, Mifflin
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Smithsonian Libraries

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and therewas nothing to eat, his interest in ornithologyflagged perceptibly. Then he sometimes carriedthe role of grazing horse too far, marching off toa fresh clump of grass out of sight of my nestat the most interesting moment; or when I wasintently gazing through my glass at a rare bird,he would sometimes give a sudden kick at a horse-fly, bobbing the glass out of range just as I wasmaking out the character of the wing-bars. From the ranch-house, encircled by live-oaks,the valley widened out, and was covered with or-chards and vineyards, inclosed by the low brush-grown ridges of the Coast Mountains. It was averitable paradise for the indolent field student.With so much insect-producing verdure, birdswere everywhere at all times. There were no longhours to sit waiting on a camp-stool, and only hereand there a treetop to sky the wandering birds.The only difficulty was to choose your intimates. Canello and I had our regular beat, down pastthe blooming quince and apricot orchard, along
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OUR VALLEY. 5 the brush-covered side of the valley where the mi-grants flocked, around the circle through a greatvineyard in the middle of the valley, past a pondwhere the feathered settlers gathered to bathe,and so back home to the oaks again. I liked to start out in the freshness of the morn-ing, when the fog was breaking up into buff cloudsover the mountains and drawing off in veils overthe peaks. The brush we passed through wasfull of glistening spiders webs, and in the openthe grass was overlaid with disks of cobweb, flash-ing rainbow colors in the sun. As we loped gayly along down the curving road,a startled quail would call out, Who-are-you-ah ?who-are-you-ah ? and another would cry (juit f\in sharp warning tones; while a pair would scudacross the road like little hens, ahead of the horse;or perhaps a covey would start up and whirr overthe hillside. The sound of Canellos flying hoofswould often rouse a long-eared jack-rabbit, whowith long leaps would go bounding over the flow-e

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