On a pitch [pine] on side of J. Hosmer’s river hill, a pine warbler, by ventriloquism sounding farther off than it was, which was seven or eight feet, hopping and flitting from twig to twig, apparently picking the small flies at and about the base of the needles at the extremities of the twigs . . .

  Small light-brown lizards, about five inches long, with somewhat darker tails, and some a light line along back, are very active, wiggling off, in J. P. Brown’s ditch, with pollywogs. Beyond the desert, hear the hooting owl, which, as formerly, I at first mistook for the hounding of a dog,—a squealing eee followed by hoo hoo hoo deliberately, and particularly sonorous and ringin. This at 2 P.M . . . That willow by H.’s Bridge is very brittle at base of stem, but hard to break above . . . Evening.—Hear the snipe a short time at early starlight.