In cruel, ungiving desert the traveller, at times, comes across the pitiful skeletons of birds that have perished from thirst and want on ill-fated pilgrimage. And mortal mind pauses in sympathy with the wild in the appalling poverty of such a lingering death; for all who know the desert are aware of the grim price that is paid by any living creature unfortunate enough to become involved in the folds of a land that expresses neither mercy nor hate, yet slowly kills with terrifying intent. On the other hand, distressed migrants sometimes find succour in landing at oases. And the numbers of wayfarers that drift into such harbours in this way are astonishing because they are so out of place in their temporary sandy surroundings. For instance, I have shot our Common Snipe in the Sahara, and collected Tern, Stilt, Sandpiper, Shoveller, Pintail, Teal, Heron, and others that have nothing whatever in common with the country. It would be irksome to go into all the details that surround the bird life of the Sahara, but a few further notes on the Tuareg folklore that relates to certain species may be of interest before concluding. In each case I give the native name of the Tuaregs. The Black Wheatear is known to the nomad as _Seni Seni_. “It is the bird that brings news of strangers; particularly news of robbers. If anyone strange is approaching, _Seni Seni_ flies at once into a prominent position and perches perfectly still, attentively watching. Whenever the little bird becomes satisfied that the figures are strangers it commences to bob its head rapidly up and down; and so one may take warning. If they are not strangers assuredly the bird will hop down to pick about the ground and take no further notice.” Another bird, according to their folklore, warns the nomad of the presence of snakes. This is _Tagishit Aschiel_, the Lesser Rufous Warbler, which spends most of its time about the kind of tangled undergrowth that snakes are given to frequent. “Whenever _Tagishit Aschiel_ detects a snake he will cry out vigorously and constantly, so that from our hut doors we may hear him, and run out and find the vile reptile; which we are glad to kill, for we fear them about our encampments.” Yet another bird of warning is: _Agishit n’Ugur_: the large Yellow Barbet, which is: “The Jackal Bird; because whenever it sees a Jackal it gives out a loud rilling call, and makes a great to-do until the enemy of our flocks is driven away.” _Ashara_, the Rufous-breasted Starling, is: “The bird of omen of death, because when it is heard in the evening or at night making a noise resembling the tearing of robes for a shroud, it is likely that on the morrow we shall hear that one of our people has died.”