234 BIRDS OF THE ROCKIES 



their own interests, would scuttle up the tree and steal 

 the hidden provender, eating it with many a chuckle of 

 self-congratulation. 



Had not the weather turned so cold during the night, 

 we might have slept quite comfortably in the miner's 

 shack, but I must confess that, though it was the twenty- 

 eighth of June and I had a small mountain of cover over 

 me, I shivered a good deal toward morning. An hour or 

 so after daylight four or five mountain jays came to the 

 cabin for their breakfast, flitting to the ground and 

 greedily devouring such tidbits as they could find. They 

 were not in the least shy. But where were their nests ? 

 That was the question that most deeply interested me. 

 During the next few days I made many a long and toil- 

 some search for them in the woods and ravines and on 

 the steep mountain sides, but none of the birds invited 

 me to their houses. These birds know how to keep a 

 secret. Anything but feathered Apollos, they have a 

 kind of ghoulish aspect, making you think of the appa- 

 ritional as they move in their noiseless way among the 

 shadowing pines. There is a look in their dark, deep- 

 set eyes and about their thick, clumpy heads which 

 gives you a feeling that they might be equal to any 

 imaginable act of cruelty. Yet I cannot say I dislike 

 these mountain roustabouts, for some of their talk among 

 themselves is very tender and affectionate, proving that, 

 " whatever brawls disturb the street," there are love and 



