FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



tunity offered. And all but the first one had the 

 regular red-earth breast, with blue throats and 

 bellies, and reddish or chestnut-colored backs. 

 Then, to the observer's sorrow, they suddenly 

 took wing with a chorus of sweet, perfectly 

 familiar calls, and in a moment were gone. The 

 all-blue one (the mountain, or arctic, bluebird, as 

 it is called) was new to him. The others, of the 

 kind known as the chestnut-backed bluebird, he 

 had seen once or twice on a previous visit to the 

 Southwest. Whether on the deserts of southern 

 Arizona, or here in the mountain forests of north- 

 ern Arizona, they were good to meet. 



If only they would have stayed a bit to be 

 looked at, or if they could have been pursued, as 

 in New England one pursues the first spring 

 bluebird from apple orchard to apple orchard for 

 pure joy of seeing and hearing it ! But they were 

 gone whither there was no such thing as follow- 

 ing them, — into the Canon, to judge by the 

 course taken, — and neither they, nor any like 

 them, were seen or heard afterward. 



They had not been alone, however, and the 

 bird-gazer was still for a few minutes abundantly 

 busy. Mountain chickadees were lisping and dee- 

 ing, and one of them gave out once, as if on 

 purpose for the Yankee listener's benefit, his 

 brief, musical whistle. "Thank you," said the 

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