January in Berkeley. 



I have described but a few of our win- 

 ter birds — enough, however, to show 

 that our hills and plains are far from 

 deserted during the month of January. 

 Midwinter is a season of rain, but the 

 birds rejoice with the rest of us in the 

 bountiful soaking — in the new-sprung 

 grass, the roar of the creek, and in the 

 burst of light and life which follows the 

 downpour. Then the air is cleansed 

 until the far-off regions of the bay 

 stand out in transparent blue, and the 

 whole vast amphitheater of water and 

 mountains lies before us so sharply out- 

 lined that the redwood trees upon the 

 Coast Range thirty miles off across the 

 bay are plainly visible. No more favor- 

 able time in the year could be chosen to 

 seek out the birds, for the air is cool 

 enough to make hill climbing a delight, 

 and all nature is refreshed and happy. 



