IN THE SHADE OF THE OAKS. 161 



California oaks are now far in the past, but as 

 I sit in my study in the East and dream back 

 over those hours my mind is filled with memory 

 pictures. Sauntering through this oaken gallery, 

 each tree recalls some pleasant hour — the sight 

 of a new bird, the sound of a new song, the pro- 

 longed delight of some cozy home that I watched 

 till accepted as a friend, when the little family's 

 fears and joys were my own. 



That big double oak, spreading across the 

 middle of the garden, was the haunted tree 

 whose blue ghost drove away the pewees and 

 gnatcatchers after they had begun to build ; 

 though the vireos and bush-tits braved it out, 

 and the tiny hummer and gentle dove were not 

 afraid to perch there. This was hummingbird 

 lane — that small oak held the nest in which 

 the two wee nestlings sat up like Jacks-in-the- 

 box ; these blue sage bushes growing in the sand 

 were the ones the honey bees and hummers used 

 to haunt, the hummers probing each lavender 

 lip as they circled round the whorls ; in front of 

 this bush I saw a fairy dancer perform his airy 

 minuet, — swing back and forth, and then sweep 

 up in the air to dive whirring down with gorget 

 puffed out and tail spread wide ; and here, when 

 watching a procession of ants, I discovered a 

 tiny hummingbird building in a drooping branch 

 that overhung the trail. That dead limb was 

 the perch of a wood pewee, a silent grave bird 



