A-BIBDING ON A BEOTsTCO. 



OUR VALLEY. 



" Climb the mountain back of the house and 

 you can see the Pacific," the ranchman told me 

 with a gleam in his eye ; and later, when I had 

 done that, from the top of a peak at the foot of 

 the valley he pointed out the distant blue moun- 

 tains of Mexico. Then he gave me his daughter's 

 saddle horse to use as long as I was his guest, that 

 I might explore the valley and study its birds to 

 the best advantage. Before coming to Califor- 

 nia, I had known only the birds of New York 

 and Massachusetts, and so was filled with eager 

 enthusiasm at thought of spending the migration 

 and nesting season in a new bird world. 



I had no gun, but was armed with opera-glass 

 and note-book, and had Eidgway's Manual to turn 

 to in all my perplexities. Every morning, right 

 after breakfast, my horse was brought to the door 

 and I set out to make the rounds of the valley. 

 I rode till dinner time, getting acquainted with 

 the migrants as they came from the south, and 



