ROSY FINCH 431 



The Sierra Nevada Rosy Finch, or Leucosticte, is the most typically 

 alpine of all Californian birds. The mountaineer does not meet with it 

 until he reaches the main Sierran crest or at least the loftiest of the out- 

 standing spurs. Constantly surrounded by extremes of cold and bleakness, 

 and by vast declivities, a combination most forbidding to us, the rosy 

 finch excites our astonishment at his choice of habitat if for nothing else. 

 He is one of the innumerable sparrow tribe, not so very different in many 

 features from the finches of the lower altitudes. It seems that he has been 

 crowded out of the better parts of the land by his more successful relatives, 

 until now he has left for himself only the last and least hospitable strip 

 of territory. He certainly has no competition there; he is usually the sole 

 avian tenant of his domain, save for, in summer, some vagrant rock wren 



Fig. 52. Bills of (a) Cassin Purple Finch, (fe) California Evening Grosbeak, and 

 (c) Sierra Nevada Eosy Finch, from above. Natural size. The Eosy Finch remains 

 in the cold high country throughout the winter and is well provided with a ' ' snow-mask ' ' 

 over the nostrils. 



or junco from below. No one is contesting with him for possession. The 

 following typical experience, recorded on the spot by the senior author, 

 gives an idea of some of the peculiarities of the bird and of its habitation. 



On treeless ridge at about 11,000 feet, above Vogelsang Lake, afternoon of August 31: 

 sharp west wind; black clouds piling along; reverberating peals of thunder at intervals; 

 dashes of rain now and then, driving over the ridge. A dozen or more rosy finches are 

 in sight, forming a loose flock which flies bravely from the lee side up into the teeth of 

 the wind, only to be overwhelmed and swept back into space above the great glacial 

 basin lying below. Presently they rally and come up again, this time tacking diagonally; 

 then they dash by, across the wind, skimming the ledges in a headlong course toward 

 a distant snow bank, to be quickly lost to the eye. All the while quaint chirps apprise 

 the observer of the presence of the birds somewhere in the vicinity, although direction 

 becomes hopelessly mixed amid the eddying gusts. No matter how far adrift the birds 

 go in their wild flights, the snow field seems to hold them magnetized, for back they 

 always swing. The flights themselves scern of no use in the economy of existence: Can 

 they be expressions of jubilance resulting from excess of vigor? One can imagine the 

 rosy finches similarly disporting themselves in midwinter about the selfsame ridges. 

 The scanty vegetation now going to seed is then uncovered periodically by the winter 

 gales, so that their accustomed fare is continually available at one place or another. 



Our findings in the Yosemite Park and elsewhere along the Sierras 

 tend to show that the food of the Leucosticte even in summer consists 

 predominantly of seeds, with possibly buds, of the dwarfed plants which 



