MAGPIE LIFE 



IN almost any of the valleys among our western movm- 

 tains one is likely to find these beautiful and enter- 

 taining birds in their fullest perfection. As the chance 

 visitor sits rapt in admiration of the distant peaks and 

 passes with the marvelous lights and shadows upon them, 

 suddenly his dream is disturbed by a living streak of black 

 and white passing across the foreground of the picture, as 

 a pied bird perches on a nearby branch that bends with his 

 weight as he balances himself with the beautiftd tail that 

 served him as a rudder in his sail across the sky. With every 

 motion of the branch it now tips gracefully up and down, 

 allowing countless iridescent hues to chase each other over 

 its glossy surface. 



His broad patches of perfect color are glorified by the 

 sunlight playing upon them, the immaculate white being 

 given a snowy depth, while over the darker areas of his daz- 

 zling plumage elusive metallic greens and purples and blues 

 stroked by delicate rose and amethyst are made to pass in 

 quick succession. 



All unconscious of his human observer, the charming 

 bird, full of the spirit of the springtime, utters a tender, 

 beseeching strain not intended for mortal ears, and seldom 

 heard by them. This song, sung only when the bird believes 

 himself to be alone with his kind, comes as a glad surprise, 



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