82 THE CONDOR I V01. III curved bill. He knows his nest is secure- ly hidden from us. A. Spurred T0whee sings his pretense of a song from a fence post, flitting from one perch to another, leading us on and on, till our feet turn 'naturally to the familiar path that leaps up the side canyon to the tank. We follow a well-beaten trail through thick-growing bushes of sumach, Yerba Santa, mimulus and wild currant. The sages, as we brush by, fill the air with a 'elicious fragrance. We pass between _'ds of violets, nemophilas, purple night-shade and wild heliotrope. The bushes are festooned with the delicate trailing wild pea. Yuccas stand sentinel high on the mountain side. The fuschia-flavored gooseberry is alive with the fairy forms of Allen's and the Rufous Hummingbirds. These bits of irridiscent make you think the lovely scarlet flowers have taken to themselves'wings. As the canyon narrows in, the rugged sides project with ledges of rock filled with fossils, 0nly waiting the tap of geologist's hammer. If this narrow gorge is a spot to fill the heart of the botanist or geologist with delight, what must it be to the bird student? The cry of the bluejay accompanies us as he laughs over our failure to find his nest. The "Jacob, Jacob, Jacob," of the woodpecker is dying away in the distance. The Turkey Vultures soar majestically above us, while a Blue- grey Gnatcatcher flits through the bush at our elbow. Fro m away up the mountain side comes ringing the wild free song of the Wren-Tit, a song as ex- clusively Californian as is the odor of the sages. It is here, where the over- hanging ledges almost meet and the path drops into the rocky bed of the creek, passing'from one boulder to an- other, that I found oi?r Canyon Wren. Its surprise 'was so great, when it hopped out from a cranny of the reck and saw me, that it p?used and 1o?)kc.d me full in the face apparently noticing my color markings, as I was studyins its own. Then with a harsh 'squeel" away up the rocky ledge it flitted, and was at once forgetful of the two pairs of glasses following its every movement. Its white throat gleamed in the sunlight as it darted from out a shady crevice and peered into every crack and seam, poking its curved bill among the mosses and lichens for the insects suited to its
palate, but always careful to 'not betray
its little home. From here it was a quick, short climb up the slanting bed-rock of the stream, and we stood at the entrance of a basin, shaped like a great bowl with a triangu- lar piece broken from one side. Be- tween banks of ferns and yellow oxalis; through this crack in the bowl, we en- ter. The basin is perhaps seventy-five feet across and a tank, built to supply the ranch with water, stands in the cen- ter. The walls are of sedimentary rock with alternate layers of sand-stone and pebbles, in tilted strata. They are fringed above with overhanging coty- ledons. ' The retort-shaped nests of the Cliff Swallow fill the water-worn cavities near the top of the cliff. These were occupied, the chattering birds sailing above, and swooping down to express their disapproval of intruders. The con- stant supply of water here afforded brings all the birds known in this sec- tion. From a natural seat, high above the tank, and partially concealed by the overhanging wall, one may sit for hours and never a moment but rich entertain- ment is afforded. The Flicker sounds a loffd alarm as his wife comes dancing and bowing down the pipe that leads from the spring above, to take a drink. Al- though we became statues she heeds her lord's command, and does not ven- ture. Valley Quail peer cautiously over the cliff and seeing us, slip noise- lessly down to a pool below for their drink. Linnets, Wren-Tits, Bush-Tits, vireos anal numb_rless others come and go, keeping cur eyes and ears on the alert. (to be continued).
