216 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



through the main forest belt, though not in great 

 numbers. They like best the heaviest silver-fir 

 woods near garden and meadow openings, where 

 there is but little underbrush to cover the ap- 

 proach of enemies. When a flock of these brave 

 birds, sauntering and feeding on the sunny, flow- 

 ery levels of some hidden meadow or Yosemite 

 valley far back in the heart of the mountains, 

 see a man for the first time in their lives, they 

 rise with hurried notes of surprise and excitement 

 and alight on the lowest branches of the trees, 

 wondering what the wanderer may be, and show- 

 ing great eagerness to get a good view of the 

 strange vertical animal. Knowing nothing of 

 guns, they allow you to approach within a half 

 dozen paces, then quietly hop a few branches 

 higher or fly to the next tree without a thought 

 of concealment, so that you may observe them as 

 long as you like, near enough to see the fine 

 shading of their plumage, the feathers on their 

 toes, and the innocent wonderment in their beau- 

 tiful wild eyes. But in the neighborhood of 

 roads and trails they soon become shy, and when 

 disturbed fly into the highest, leafiest trees, and 

 suddenly become invisible, so well do they know 

 how to hide and keep still and make use of their 

 protective coloring. Nor can they be easily dis- 

 lodged ere they are ready to go. In vain the 

 hunter goes round and round some tall pine or 

 fir into which he has perhaps seen a dozen enter. 



