. A-birding on a bronco . camore wherethe shrike was driven off by the a little brown wren had taken up her nest was in a dead limb with a lengthwiseslit, and a scoop at the end like an apple-corer,so when one of the wrens flew down its hole witha stick, the twig stuck out of the crack as sheran along with it. She quite won my heart byher frank way of meeting her landlady. Insteadof flying off, she looked me over and then quietlysat down in her doorway to wait for her mate. On the road to my sycamores was a desertedwhitewashed adobe. The place had become over-grown wi
. A-birding on a bronco . camore wherethe shrike was driven off by the a little brown wren had taken up her nest was in a dead limb with a lengthwiseslit, and a scoop at the end like an apple-corer,so when one of the wrens flew down its hole witha stick, the twig stuck out of the crack as sheran along with it. She quite won my heart byher frank way of meeting her landlady. Insteadof flying off, she looked me over and then quietlysat down in her doorway to wait for her mate. On the road to my sycamores was a desertedwhitewashed adobe. The place had become over-grown with weeds, vines, and bushes, and wastaken possession of by squirrels and had reclaimed it, covering its ugly scarswith garlands, and making it bloom under hertender touch. One morning, as I rode by, ablack phoebe was perched on the old adobe chim-ney of the little house, while his mate sat on theboard that covered the well, in a way that made iteasy to jump to a conclusion. When she flew AMONG MY TENANTS. 129. Black Phoebe. (One half natural size.) up to the acacia beside the well and looked down anxiously, I put the pair on my calling list. It did not take many visits to prove my conclusion — there was a nest down in the well with white eggs in it. The phcebes were most trustful birds, and not only let Ca- nello tramp around their yard, but when a pump was put down the well, and water pumped up day by day, the brave parents, instead of deserting their eggs, went on brooding as if nothing had happened. Five years later, on going back to the ranch, I found the phcebes around the old place, but hunted in vain for the nest. A schoolhouse had been built in the interval, near the old adobe,and the birds perched onits gables, on the hitchingposts in front of it, and onmy prune-trees, that hadtaken the place of the wil-lows, across the road. Theyeven came up to my smallranch-house and filled mewith delightful anticipa-tions by inspecting thebeams of the piazza; but they
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1896
