CHAPTER VII 



AMONG THE BIRDS OF THE YOSEMITE 



Travelers in the Sierra forests usually com- 

 plain of the want of life. " The trees," they 

 say, " are fine, but the empty stillness is deadly ; 

 there are no animals to be seen, no birds. We 

 have not heard a song in all the woods." And 

 no wonder ! They go in large parties with mules 

 and horses ; they make a great noise ; they are 

 dressed in outlandish, unnatural colors ; every 

 animal shuns them. Even the frightened pines 

 would run away if they could. But Nature- 

 lovers, devout, silent, open-eyed, looking and lis- 

 tening with love, find no lack of inhabitants in 

 these mountain mansions, and they come to them 

 gladly. Not to mention the large animals or the 

 small insect people, every waterfall has its ouzel 

 and every tree its squirrel or tamias or bird : 

 tiny nuthatch threading the furrows of the bark, 

 cheerily whispering to itself as it deftly pries off 

 loose scales and examines the curled edges of 

 lichens ; or Clarke crow or jay examining the 

 cones ; or some singer — oriole, tanager, warbler 

 — resting, feeding, attending to domestic affairs. 



