AMONG THE BIRDS OF THE YOSEMITE 221 



afraid they cannot escape the clanger by running 

 into thickets, they rise with a fine hearty whir 

 and scatter in the brush over an area of half a 

 square mile or so, a few of them diving into 

 leafy trees. But as soon as the danger is past, 

 the parents with a clear piping note call them 

 together again. By the end of July the young 

 are two thirds grown and fly well, though only 

 dire necessity can compel them to try their 

 wings. In gait, gestures, habits, and general 

 behavior they are like domestic chickens, but in- 

 finitely finer, searching for insects and seeds, 

 looking to this side and that, scratching among 

 fallen leaves, jumping up to pull down grass 

 heads, and clucking and muttering in low tones. 

 Once when I was seated at the foot of a tree 

 on the head-waters of the Merced, sketching, I 

 heard a flock up the valley behind me, and by 

 their voices gradually sounding nearer I knew 

 that they were feeding toward me. I kept still, 

 hoping to see them. Soon one came within 

 three or four feet of me, without noticing me 

 any more than if I were a stump or a bulging 

 part of the trunk against which I was leaning, 

 my clothing being brown, nearly like the bark. 

 Presently along came another and another, and 

 it was delightful to get so near a view of these 

 handsome chickens perfectly undisturbed, ob- 

 serve their manners, and hear their low peace- 

 ful notes. At last one of them caught my eye, 



