8 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFOKNIA 



spring, say from February to April, the whole of 

 this foot-hill belt is a paradise of bees and flowers. 

 Refreshing rains then fall freely, birds are busy 

 building their nests, and the sunshine is balmy and 

 delightful. But by the end of May the soil, plants, 

 and sky seem to have been baked in an oven. Most 

 of the plants crumble to dust beneath the foot, and 

 the ground is full of cracks ; while the thirsty 

 traveler gazes with eager longing through the burn 

 ing glare to the snowy summits looming like hazy 

 clouds in the distance. 



The trees, mostly Quercus Douglasii and Pinus 

 Sabiniana, thirty to forty feet high, with thin, pale- 

 green foliage, stand far apart and cast but little 

 shade. Lizards glide about on the rocks enjoying 

 a constitution that no drouth can dry, and ants in 

 amazing numbers, whose tiny sparks of life seem 

 to burn the brighter with the increasing heat, 

 ramble industriously in long trains in search of 

 food. Crows, ravens, magpies friends in distress 

 gather on the ground beneath the best shade- 

 trees, panting with drooping wings and bills wide 

 open, scarce a note from any of them during the 

 midday hours. Quails, too, seek the shade during 

 the heat of the day about tepid pools in the chan 

 nels of the larger mid-river streams. Rabbits scurry 

 from thicket to thicket among the ceanothus bushes, 

 and occasionally a long-eared hare is seen cantering 

 gracefully across the wider openings. The nights 

 are calm and dewless during the summer, and a 

 thousand voices proclaim the abundance of life, not 

 withstanding the desolating effect of dry sunshine 

 on the plants and larger animals. The hylas make 



