210 BESIDE THE GREAT SALT LAKE. 



This was not stupidity on the part of the crim- 

 son-head, nor was it foolhardiness ; it was simply 

 trust in his guardian, for he had one, one who 

 watched every movement of ours with close at- 

 tention, whose vigilance was never relaxed, and 

 who appeared, when we saw her, to be above the 

 need of food. A plain personage she was, clad in 

 modest, dull yellow, the female tanager. She 

 was probably his mate ; at any rate, she gradu- 

 ally followed him down the fence, keeping fifteen 

 or twenty feet behind him, all the time with an 

 eye on us, ready to give warning of the slightest 

 aggressive movement on our part. It would be 

 interesting to know how my lord behaves up in 

 those sky-parlors where their summer homes are 

 made. No doubt he is as tender and devoted 

 as most of his race (all his race, I would say, 

 if Mr. Torrey had not shaken our faith in the 

 ruby-throat), and I have no doubt that the little 

 red-heads in the nest will be well looked after 

 and fed by their fly-catching papa. 



Far different from the cool unconcern of the 

 crimson-headed tanager were the manners of an- 

 other red-headed dweller on the mountain. The 

 green-tailed towhee he is called in the books, 

 though the red of his head is much more con- 

 spicuous than the green of his tail. In this 

 bird the high-bred repose of his neighbor was 

 replaced by the most fussy restlessness. When 



