The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1905-06-21
JRES OF MEXICO
HOW THESE BIRDS HAUNT THE ARID
ALkALI PLAINS.
The Whirring Black Cone of Eager
Desert scnvengers and the Way In
which the Circling Mass Descends
Upon Its Cnrrion Prey.

At night the moon looks down upon
desolate, arid plain, stretching away
to the great Sierra Madre mountain
chain, deep, shadowy blue, against the
western sky. The air is chill, and n
bleak wind searches out every fold in
our blankets-we might almost be
spending night on the tundras.
With scarce a moment of dawn the
sun floods everything, most welcome
warmth for awhile, soon to make one
gasp in its breathless heat Long be-
fore the rainy season actually begins
vegetation seems to feel a quickening
in the air; the plants scent the coming
moisture weeks beforehand; the rush
ing streams, swollen with the melting
SHOWS from the lower mountain tops,
bring life to the lands through which
they flow; spring is awakening every
where-except on the alkali plain.
Where thin rind of red brown
grass roots partly covers the white
dust, parched mesquite bushes find
root, and strange, uncouth organ cacti
rear their columns, like mammoth can
lelabra. Here wild eyed cattle roam
uneasily, nibbling occasionally at the
bitter grass stems.
Farther out in the desert, where even
the mesquite and cacti fail, we ride
slowly across the parched surface,
wondering if a single living thing can
endure the bitterness of the earth. In
la cto a Nuhi
dust, tall, thin columns with perfectly
distinct outlines, undulating slowly
here and there both life and death in
their silent movement.
Most remarkable it seems to us when
a stray great blue heron now and then
flies silently up from the desert (what
can possibly attract these birds to such
n place of death as this, distant even
from the bitter pools p and flaps slowly
out of sight. Twice a great ebony
raven sails through the dusty air over
our heads-the same bird repassing.
No other life is visible save the bal
anced black specks high against the
blue, as invariably part of a Mexican
day as are stars of the night. Herons,
vultures, raven-all move slowly, SEEM
ing less alive than the distant dust
columns.
But we feel the real spirit of the
eternal desert when, as we turn to re-
trace our steps, we spy a something
white, different from the surrounding
earth, and the spell of past ages falls
upon u.s. The bitter water is ever dry
ing up, the whirlwinds carry the dust
from place to place, the birds come
and go as they please but this relic Of
an elephant of the olden time brings
past and present into close touch.
What scenes has the desert looked
upon since this mammoth staggered
dying into the quagmire which proved
its tomb? Our eyes smart from the
dust as we reluctantly turn our horses
heads on the back trail for we should
like to stay and search out these fos-
sils-more fascinating in way than
the living beasts and birds which peo-
pie the tropics beyond.
One of the most wonderful of the
exhibitions Of bird life vouchsafed to
us in Mexico comes as we leave the
alkali plain and ride away among the
mesquite scrub. A confused mass of
black appears in the air, which soon re-
solves itself into hundreds Of individ-
ual specks. The atmosphere is so de-
ceiving that what at first seems to be
vast cloud Of gnats close at hand is
soon seen to be a multitude of birds
blackbirds, perhaps, until we approach
and think them ravens and, finally,
when a quarter Of a mile away, we
know that they are vultures. Three
burros lie dead upon the plain. This
we knew yesterday, and here are the
scavengers. Never have we seen vul-
lures so numerous or in such order.
A careful scrutiny through the glass
es shows many score of black and tur-
key buzzards walking about and feed
ing upon the carcases of the animals
From this point there extends upward
into the air vast inverted cone of
birds, all circling in the same direction
From where we sit upon our horses
there seems not q single one out of
place, the outline Of the cone being as
smooth and distinct as though the birds
were limited in their fight to this par
ticular area. 1t is a rare sight, the sun
lighting up every bird on the farther
side and shadowing black as night
those nearest us.
Through ones partly closed eyes
the whole mass appears as myriad
of slowly revolving wheels, intersect-
ing and crossing each others orbits,
but never breaking their circular out
line. The thousands of soaring forms
hold us spellbound for minutes before
we rode closer. Now a change takes
place, as gradual but as sure as the
shifting clouds Of sunset. Until this
moment there had been a tendency to
concentrate at the base of the cone,
that portion becoming blacker and
blacker, until it seemed a solid mass of
rapidly revolving forms. But at our
near approach, this concentration
ceases and there is perfect equilibrium
for time Then, as we ride up a gen.
tie slope into clearer view, a wonder
full ascent begins. Slowly the creeping