FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



creeper, looking almost as New-Englandish as 

 the robin's voice had sounded ; the same pep- 

 per-and-salt coat, the same faint, quick zeep, a 

 mere nothing of a sound, yet known on the in- 

 stant for what it is, anywhere on the continent, 

 and the same trick of beginning always at the 

 bottom of the tree and hitching its way upward. 

 Yet it was not exactly the bird of New England, 

 after all ; for when the observer met with it 

 again, as he did on sundry occasions (always a 

 single bird, — another characteristic trait), he 

 perceived, or fancied he perceived, that its coat 

 was of a lighter shade than he had been accus- 

 tomed to see. The Rocky Mountain creeper, the 

 book instructed him to call it, and the name 

 sounded sweet to him. At almost the same min- 

 ute, too, he had his first clear sight of another 

 Rocky Mountain bird, — the Rocky Mountain 

 hairy woodpecker. This was to prove one of the 

 very common inhabitants of the plateau. Its 

 emphatic, perfectly natural-sounding calls were 

 heard many times daily, and would have passed 

 without remark anywhere in the East. In per- 

 sonal appearance, however, the bird is clearly 

 enough distinguished, even at first sight, by the 

 all but solid blackness of its wings. 



After luncheon the bird-gazer again took the 

 field (the altitude was congenial to him, and 



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