228 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



flocks may be seen sailing at a great height 

 above the forests, shaking the crisp air into roll- 

 ing waves with their hearty koor-r-r, koor-r-r, 

 uck-uck, soaring in circles for hours together on 

 their majestic wings, seeming to float without 

 effort like clouds, eying the wrinkled landscape 

 outspread like a map mottled with lakes and gla- 

 ciers and meadows and streaked with shadowy 

 canons and streams, and surveying every frog 

 marsh and sandy flat within a hundred miles. 



Eagles and hawks are oftentimes seen above the 

 ridges and domes. The greatest height at which 

 I have observed them was about twelve thousand 

 feet, over the summits of Mount Hoffman, in 

 the middle region of the Park. A few pairs 

 had their nests on the cliffs of this mountain, 

 and could be seen every day in summer, hunting 

 marmots, mountain beavers, pikas, etc. A pair 

 of golden eagles have made their home in Yo- 

 semite ever since I went there thirty years ago. 

 Their nest is on the Nevada Fall Cliff, opposite 

 the Liberty Cap. Their screams are rather 

 pleasant to hear in the vast gulfs between the 

 granite cliffs, and they help the owls in keeping 

 the echoes busy. 



But of all the birds of the high Sierra, the 

 strangest, noisiest, and most notable is the Clarke 

 crow {Nucifraga columbiana). He is a foot 

 long and nearly two feet in extent of wing, ashy 

 gray in general color, with black wings, white 



