The Mountaineer 17 
Lake Kachees, three miles from Easton, on the eastern slope 
of the Cascades, was, at the time the writer visited it, one 
of these places. It lies in a deep narrow valley 2235 feet 
above sea level, surrounded by great mountains, which, ex- 
cept at the source of the Yakima River, slope down abruptly 
to the very edge of the water. The lake is a double one con- 
nected by “the narrows.” The fauna and flora appeared to 
be a mixture of the eastern and western slopes of the range. 
On the mountain sides the cedar, the red fir and the hemlock 
grew side by side with the vew, the white fir, and the white 
pine. On the lower levels were alders, vine maples, balm and 
cottonwoods, and the shrubs were represented by the red and 
the blue elderberry, the red and the blue’ hucklberry. the 
hazel, the spirea, the service berry, and a few willows. In 
the little valley where the Yakima left the lake, fireweed, 
live-for-ever, and Oregon grape were abundant. It was an ideal 
spot in which to live and many birds had made it their abode. 
Many people would have missed the bird life, but even in 
the hottest part of the day it was there. From the shade of 
the red fir the writer once caught the calls and then the forms 
of a flock of Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Western Golden- 
crowned Kinglets, and a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches. As 
usual, the Chickadees were curious and as they flew closer 
and closer they were joined by a pair of Oregon Juncoes and 
four young. When the Juncoes caught sight of the human 
intruder they began scolding as they do at a cat with a pe- 
culiar kissing sound. It was too much of an inducement and 
as they proceeded the writer followed into the apparently 
silent, deserted forest. The reward soon came in the ‘pink- 
pink-pink” hail, friend, well met call of the Western Winter 
Wren, that atomic bit of bird life which never seems so tiny 
as when seen poking its inquisitive head around a huge tree- 
trunk to greet vou. Then came in quick succession the Pine 
Siskin, the Louisiana Tanager, the Slender-billed Nuthatch, 
the Western Nighthawk, the Harris Woodpecker and the Red- 
shafted Flicker. A crag, which had evidently lost itself in 
the forest, invited the mountaineer spirit to its topmost pin- 
nacle. Here, perched on a level with the treetops, the im- 
pulse to try one’s luck at flying was strong, but generations 
of failure in the realm of aviation had left instincts of can- 
tion. Opposite, from the slender spire of a red fir a tiny 
