In the Sierra 



yet he is by no means a dull animal. In the 

 midst of what we regard as storm-beaten 

 desolation he pipes and whistles right cheer- 

 ily, and enjoys long life in hisskyland homes. 

 His burrow is made in disintegrated rocks 

 or beneath large boulders. Coming out of 

 his den in the cold hoarfrost mornings, he 

 takes a sun-bath on some favorite flat-topped 

 rock, then goes to breakfast in garden hol- 

 lows, eats grass and flowers until comfort- 

 ably swollen, then goes a-visiting to fight 

 and play. How long a woodchuck lives in 

 this bracing air I don't know, but some of 

 them are rusty and gray like lichen-covered 

 boulders. 



August i. A grand cloudland and five- 

 minute shower, refreshing the blessed wil- 

 derness, already so fragrant and fresh, steep- 

 ing the black meadow mold and dead leaves 

 like tea. 



The waycup, or flicker, so familiar to 

 every boy in the old Middle West States, 

 is one of the most common of the wood- 



[ 233 ] 



