364 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFOKNIA 



nests in the ground ! With a few strokes of their 

 huge paws the bears uncover the entire establish 

 ment, and, before time is given for a general buzz, 

 bees old and young, larvae, honey, stings, nest, and 

 all are taken in one ravishing mouthful. 



Not the least influential of the agents concerned 

 in the superior sweetness of the Shasta flora are its 

 storms storms I mean that are strictly local, bred 

 and born on the mountain. The magical rapidity 

 with which they are grown on the mountain-top, 

 and bestow their charity in rain and snow, never 

 fails to astonish the inexperienced lowlander. Often 

 in calm, glowing days, while the bees are still on the 

 wing, a storm-cloud may be seen far above in the 

 pure ether, swelling its pearl bosses, and growing 

 silently, like a plant. Presently a clear, ringing 

 discharge of thunder is heard, followed by a rush 

 of wind that comes sounding over the bending 

 woods like the roar of the ocean, mingling rain 

 drops, snow-flowers, honey-flowers, and bees in 

 wild storm harmony. 



Still more impressive are the warm, reviving days 

 of spring in the mountain pastures. The blood of 

 the plants throbbing beneath the life-giving sun 

 shine seems to be heard and felt. Plant growth goes 

 on before our eyes, and every tree in the woods, and 

 every bush and flower is seen as a hive of restless in 

 dustry. The deeps of the sky are mottled with 

 singing wings of every tone and color ; clouds of 

 brilliant chrysididee dancing and swirling in ex 

 quisite rhythm, golden-barred vespida3, dragon-flies, 

 butterflies, grating cicadas, and jolly, rattling 

 grasshoppers, fairly enameling the light. 



