RAMBLES ABOUT GEORGETOWN 



211 



as we arrived in the vicinity of Green Lake. A family 

 of them were hurtling about in the pine woods, allow- 

 ing themselves to be inspected at short range, and filling 

 the hollows with their uncanny calls. What a voice 

 the mountain jay has ! Nature did a queer thing when 

 she put a "horse-fiddle" into the larynx 

 of this bird but it is not ours to ask *,- 

 the reason why, simply to study her as 

 she is. In marked contrast with the harsh 

 calls of these mountain hobos were the 

 roulades of the sweet and musical ruby- 

 crowned kinglets, which had absented themselves 

 from the lower altitudes, but were abundant in 

 the timber belts about ten thousand feet up the 

 range and still higher. 



On the border of the lake, among some gnarly 

 pines, I stumbled upon a woodpecker that was 

 entirely new to my eastern eyes one that I 

 had not seen in my previous touring among 

 the heights of the Rockies. He was sedu- 

 lously pursuing his vocation a divine 

 call, no doubt of chiselling grubs 

 out of the bark of the pine trees, 

 making the chips fly, and produc- 

 ing at intervals that musical ^m 



Red-naped 

 Sapsuckers 



" Chiselling grubs out of the bark " 



