MOUNTAIN TREES 



out poking their little round, brown, 

 fuzzy heads out into view. I like to tap 

 the logs gently with a stick and watch 

 them come out of their hiding, Once I 

 counted twenty-one that came up on a 

 single fallen pine, every inch of their 

 bodies quivering with excitement. 



But dear little fellows as they are, 

 they cannot keep their paws out of mis- 

 chief, as the following notes taken from 

 Grinneirs Biota show: "On the upper 

 South Fork of the Santa Ana River, 

 June 28, 1905, 1 heard/' says Mr. Grin- 

 nell, "the scolding of a chipmunk accom- 

 panied by the excited bill-snapping of a 

 pair of wood pewees. I arrived on the 

 scene in time to see the birds being 

 robbed by a chipmunk; in fact the job 

 was complete, only parts of the egg 

 shells being in evidence when I climbed 

 up. The nest was ten feet from the 

 ground and six feet out towards the end 

 of a horizontal pine branch." 



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