Length, about 22 inches. The great size and long ear tufts sufficiently distinguish this owl.

Range: Resident over the greater part of North and South America.

This, our largest owl, inhabits heavily forested and unsettled regions and is becoming more and more rare in thickly populated areas. It is well known by its far reaching call-"hoo-hoo-hoohoo"-which is heard best in the still small hours of the night, when it echoes across the expanse of canyon and forest in the far west.

This owl destroys many partridges and other game birds, and unhoused poultry is never safe from its nocturnal attacks. Its deeds are those of darkness, since usually it hunts only at night, though when disturbed in the daytime it can see well enough to take good care of itself. Its bill of fare is a long one and includes many kinds of mammals and birds. It is one of the few creatures which when hungry do not hesitate to attack the skunk, and it appears to have no great difficulty in killing this rather formidable little beast. That it does not always do so with entire impunity is evident from the odor frequently attaching to its feathers. destruction of rodents entitles it to our gratitude, especially when it kills pocket gophers, rats, mice, ground squirrels and rabbits. In some parts of the west rabbits are responsible for much damage to orchards and crops and consequently their reduction is a blessing. Nevertheless the protection of this big and fierce owl cannot be recommended on sound economic grounds.

Its

WOOD DUCK (Aix sponsa).

Length, about 19 inches. The elongated crest of feathers and variegated plumage of white and brown, spotted with chestnut, ochraceous and steel blue are characteristic.

Range: Breeds from Washington to middle California, and from Manitoba and southeastern Canada to Texas and Florida; winters chiefly in the United States.

It can be said of this duck, as of no other, that it is our very own, since most of the breeding area it occupies is within our territory, and by far the greater number of the species winter within the United States. The story of its former abundance on our ponds and streams and of its present scarcity is a sad commentary on our improvidence and a warning for the future. Happily, it is not yet too late to save this most beautiful of our ducks, and under proper regulations it may be expected not only to hold its own, but to increase until it is once more a proper object for the skill of sportsUnder present conditions all true sportsmen should refrain from its further pursuit.

men.

As is well known, the wood duck is one of the few wildfowl that builds its nest in hollow trees, and the security thus provided for the young is one of the factors to be relied upon for the increase of the species. North, south, east and west, the States of every section are, or should be, interested in the preservation of this distinctively American duck, and should make suitable regulations for its welfare and see to their enforcement.

COOT (Fulica americana).

Length, about 15 inches. The slate-colored plumage, with blackish head and neck, white bill, and scalloped toes mark this bird apart from all others.

Range: Breeds from southern Canada south to Lower California, Texas, Tennessee and New Jersey; also in southern Mexico and Guatemala; winters from southern British Columbia, Nevada, Utah, Ohio Valley and Virginia south to Panama.

The coot, or mud-hen, is a sort of combination of duck, gallinule and rail, and withal is a very interesting bird. Fortunately for the coot, its flesh is little esteemed, and by many, indeed, is considered unfit for human consumption. The coot is thus passed by in contempt by most sportsmen, and in some regions it is as tame as can well be imagined, swimming within a few feet of the observer with entire unconcern. Under other circumstances, however, as in Louisiana, where it is shot for food under the name poule d'eau, it becomes as wild as the most wary of ducks. It frequents both salt and fresh water, preferably the latter. The mud-hen is one of the few American birds that occasionally visits the distant Hawaiian Islands in fall and winter. Finding conditions there to their liking, some of the immigrants, probably centuries ago, elected to remain and found a new colony, and there, in the fresh water ponds of the island archipelago, their descendants still live and thrive.

The food of the coot consists almost entirely of water plants of no use to man. There would seem, therefore, to be no excuse for killing or disturbing the bird in any way.

SPOTTED SANDPIPER (Actitis macularia).

Length, about 6 inches. The "tip up," with its brownish gray upper parts and white under parts and its teetering motion, is too well known to need description.

Range: Breeds in northwestern Alaska and in much of northern Canada south to southern California, Arizona, southern Texas, southern Louisiana and northern South Carolina; winters from California, Louisiana and South Carolina to southern Brazil and Peru.

The little "tip up," as it is appropriately named, from its quaint nodding motion, unduly favors no one section or community but elects to dwell in every region suited to its needs from Alaska to Florida. It is doubtless more widely known than any other of our shore birds, and as it takes wing when disturbed, its "wit, wit" comes to us from beach, river side, and mill pond, from one end of the land to the other. It is the only shore bird that habitually nests in cornfields and pastures, and its handsome buff eggs spotted with chocolate are well known to the farmer's boy everywhere. Much is to be said in favor of the food habits of the little tip up, as the bird includes in its diet army worms, squash bugs, cabbage worms, grasshoppers, green flies and crayfishes. Having thus earned a right to be numbered among the farmers' friends, the bird should be exempt from persecution. The tiny morsel of flesh afforded by its plump little body, when the bird has been shot, is in no sense an adequate return for its services when alive and active in our behalf.

W

HILE fully aware of the high percentage of error most sweeping assertions contain, I nevertheless venture to claim that the country lying between the cities of Vera Cruz and Mexico City possesses more varied natural attractions than any other area of similar extent in the world.

From the moment when, on the Gulf, one sights the still distant Sierra, until one reaches the site of Tenochtitlan itself, one's attention is held by a variety of interests which make the trip from coast to table-land, and the snow-peaks rising from it, an epitome of a journey from equatorial to boreal regions.

If one is in search of supremely beautiful scenery, it is here to and beyond the limit of human appreciation. If one would test the climates of the world, he may go in a day from perpetual summer to everlasting snow, and at the same time pass from belts where rain falls almost daily to others where it is rarely known. With these extremes of temperature and humidity there is, of course, a corresponding diversity in flora and fauna, which makes the region of exceptional interest to the botanist and zoologist, and particularly, as I shall endeavor shortly to show, to the student of the distribution of life.

For the archeologist there are ruins which evince a high degree of aboriginal culture; and for the ethnologist, natives who, in retaining their tribal customs, offer problems of fundamental importance in connecting the present with the past.

The historic period opens with the incomparable romance of Cortez and Montezuma, of Aztecan and Tlaxcalan, and passes through three centuries of Spanish government, the war of independence, the

short-lived empire of Maximilian, and the campaign of Scott, to the astonishing era of material development under Diaz, and the no less disastrous years of disintegration once his iron grip was loosened.

Thus, omitting all reference to natural resources and commercial possibilities, whether one be a student of nature or of man, or merely a tourist in search of the novel and beautiful, this portion of Mexico will appeal to him with a force and fascination which makes a journey through it one of the memorable experiences in a lifetime of travel.

ENTER FROM THE GULF

Be one student or tourist, there can be no question that one should enter Mexico from the Gulf. Were it not for customshouse formalities, the northern boundary might be crossed unawares at many points; but to follow for days in the wake of the Conquistadores produces a mental condition which prepares one properly to enjoy a definite arrival in Mexico near the landfall of Cortez. landfall of Cortez. A journey from the coast to the capital follows a natural succession of climatic zones as well as the sequence of early historic events.

Furthermore, steamers so arrange their schedules that they reach Vera Cruz in the morning, and we begin our day, therefore, alert and eager for the experiences incident to travel in a land where the eve is greeted by strange sights, the ear by unfamiliar sounds.

The day, indeed, should begin at sunrise, some hours before disembarking at Vera Cruz, with a hope that one may have the rare good fortune to see the first rays of the sun touch the summit of Mt. Orizaba, the first, as it will be among the most lasting, of one's impressions of

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Mexico. The shore is still some 30 miles distant, the mountain itself about 100 miles, and one is with difficulty convinced that the gleaming pink cloud high above the horizon is part of the still invisible earth beneath it. Doubtless the Aztecs were not familiar with this view of Mt. Orizaba, but from no other place is their name for it-Citlaltapetl, the Star Mountain- so applicable.

On only one of three voyages to Mexico have I had this thrilling view of Orizaba's snow-crown, but in default of it there is still the sunrise over the Gulf, and if this be obscured, there is always the Gulf itself, usually calm at this hour, and the half-speed at which the steamer is moving to prevent too early an arrival at Vera Cruz, gives one an exceptional opportunity to see the surface life from her deck.

SCHOOLS OF FLYING FISH

Nearly every little raft of gulf-weed shelters a swarm of small fish; near the Arcos keys the black and white gannets, which evidently live there, are abundant, and occasional herring gulls, sooty or bridled terns, and frigate birds are seen, while at frequent intervals flying fish, flushed by the steamer, spring from beneath the bow and scale away. One exceptionally calm morning, when the Gulf was glassy smooth, we could see them from the bow of our ship, swimming ahead a foot or two beneath the surface.

As the steamer bore down on them they darted right and left, or at our too close approach took to the air. For 20 to 40 feet they touched the surface when the tail and long, wing-like pectoral fins were in rapid motion, the latter being moved up and down. The body was held at an angle and apparently only the lower lobe of the tail touched the water, making, when it struck, a series of connected circles. Sufficient headway being thus gained, the fins became rigid and the creature scaled or sailed, a true aëroplane, until momentum was lost, when it plunged abruptly into the water. When the tail struck the crest of a swell the "wings" also vibrated, and fresh force was thus acquired, but the calmness of the sea afforded few opportunities for this method

of prolonging the sail. This varied from a few feet to 150 yards, with frequent changes of direction.

March 4, 1910, as the steamer passed the island fortress of San Juan de Ulloa and glided inside the breakwater to the substantial customs pier, our preparations for immediate landing were halted by the tardiness of the health officer, who, after keeping us impatiently waiting for an hour, conducted his inspection with exasperating deliberation; nor were we declared free until the last steerage passenger had been examined.

CONQUERING PEACEFUL BANDITS In the meantime, on the pier below, a horde of cargadors had gathered behind the rope before which the baggage had been piled. As we descended the gangway the rope was dropped, and we were charged by a mob of shouting, gesticulating porters, five or six of whom shoved their badges into one's face at the same moment, grabbed our hand baggage, and all but tore us into fragments. It was a scene of riotous confusion, with two or three score bandits pulling, shoving, swearing, dodging, fighting for the privilege of taking our luggage to hotel or railway station, and I emerged from the fray with all our 14 trunks, 14 valises, and the exultation of a conqueror.

Time was when Vera Cruz was dreaded as a pest-hole, and trains at once took one from the steamer up the Sierra on the way to Mexico City, usually as far as Orizaba. Now, however, sanitary conditions and hotel accommodations have been so improved that one may stay here without danger or discomfort. At least, one should remain over night to begin the trip toward the table-land early in the morning, and thus be able to see every foot of this remarkable journey.

Fellow-travelers with whom we had shared a common interest in the events of the voyage now separated, each to his appointed task or tour. A newly appointed ambassador went to his post at the capital with small realization that out of the apparently peaceful present would soon arise a period of devastation ruinous to the interests of the country and presenting critical situations for diplomatic