FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



disclosed surprisingly little of animal life. At an 

 elevation of seven thousand feet winter is winter, 

 even in Arizona. The mixed flock of snowbirds 

 just mentioned, a jack rabbit that bounded off 

 into the woods with flying leaps, and a bevy of 

 chickadees that got away from the rambler be- 

 fore their specific identity could be established, 

 these were all. 



Then, as he returned in the direction of the 

 hotel, his attention was taken by a two-story 

 house which some one — a photographer, by the 

 sign over the door — had built on a narrow shelf, 

 barely wide enough to hold it, a little below the 

 top of the Canon wall, and he went down the 

 footpath, the beginning of Bright Angel Trail, as 

 it turned out, to inspect it. A knock brought a 

 young man up from below, with an invitation to 

 enter. An eerie perch it was, and no mistake. 

 From the second-story back door, which had 

 neither steps nor balcony, but opened upon space, 

 one had only to leap over a narrow wooden plat- 

 form, one story below, to land upon the rocks, a 

 thousand feet, perhaps, down the Canon. 



The photographer was explaining the superior 

 advantages of the site for artistic purposes, when 

 a jay dropped into a pine tree just out of reach ; 

 a crestless, long-tailed jay, wearing a beautiful 

 fan-shaped decoration on its front ; seen at a 



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