135 



FIELD NOTES FROM SANTA CATALINA ISLAND. 



By Blanche Trask. 



Mr. Lockwood, in a recent article upon "Carrier Pigeons," in 

 the St. Nicholas magazine, was most happy in saying that Catalina 

 Island was " in shape not unlike a giant's footprint." The island 

 is about twenty-two miles long and from three to eight miles wide. 

 It is cut into almost two islands, for at "The Isthmus" it is but a 

 quarter of a mile from sea to sea, though on either side there are 

 lofty peaks. 



Two or three fishermen live at "The Isthmus." Avalon ia a tent 

 city, which year after year, from June to September, renews its life ; 

 like the Selaginella quick to respond to the opportunity and as 

 suddenly fading away — not to death, but to its semblance, sleep. 

 There are scarcely a hundred people left over in Avalon " after the 

 season." 



On the summits, "The Ridge" is not the narrow strip it looks 

 from below; one is surprised to find many an undulating stretch 

 where he may wander for hours without beholding once the sea; 

 here and there a mesa, and, indeed, " uplands vast," where only the 

 wild goats and sheep wander and the little silvery foxes live. The 

 highest peaks range at about 2,000 feet. Mexican Joe, the old- 

 time guide, states that there was once snow on " The Ridge," but 

 that it has never been known in the valleys. 



There are deep craters surrounded by mountains of rocks over- 

 burnt; there are clifis all the hues of the rainbow, some in such 

 tones that to speak of their color is impossible — such strange blend- 

 ings of violet and rose call for new words : there are crags whose 

 rocks crash down a thousand feet into the sea below, where they are 

 laved by green-blue waves — waves whose wondrous coloring is 

 stolen from the rocks and by many a spiral and labyrinthine trail 

 carried out into the deep. In these strangely-colored waters the 

 brown "mermaid's hair" sways to and fro, goldfish hide in the 

 tangled weeds, and to look down upon it all from the heights, well 

 repays one for the tramp from Avalon. 



Arroyos are everywhere, making now and then terrible leaps; 

 there is seldom water in their beds except during the rainy season. 



