372 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



peckers, but the latter kept up a vigilant watch 

 upon their movements. I noticed four woodpeckers 

 in league against one squirrel, driving the poor 

 fellow out of an oak that they claimed. He dodged 

 round the knotty trunk from side to side, as 

 nimbly as he could in his famished condition, only 

 to find a sharp bill everywhere. But the fate of 

 the bees that year seemed the saddest of all. 

 In different portions of Los Angeles and San Diego 

 counties, from one half to three fourths of them 

 died of sheer starvation. Not less than 18,000 

 colonies perished in these two counties alone, while 

 in the adjacent counties the death-rate was hardly 

 less. 



Even the colonies nearest to the mountains suf 

 fered this year, for the smaller vegetation on the 

 foot-hills was affected by the drought almost as 

 severely as that of the valleys and plains, and even 

 the hardy, deep-rooted chaparral, the surest de 

 pendence of the bees, bloomed sparingly, while 

 much of it was beyond reach. Every swarm could 

 have been saved, however, by promptly supplying 

 them with food when their own stores began to fail, 

 and before they became enfeebled and discouraged; 

 or by cutting roads back into the mountains, and 

 taking them into the heart of the flowery chapar 

 ral. The Santa Lucia, San Rafael, San Gabriel, 

 San Jacinto, and San Bernardino ranges are almost 

 untouched as yet save by the wild bees. Some 

 idea of their resources, and of the advantages and 

 disadvantages they offer to bee-keepers, may be 

 formed from an excursion that I made into the 

 San Gabriel Range about the beginning of August 



