76 WILD ANIMAtS oTYfci©Jl^i^^tCtAt PAKK. 



winter's haystacks and alDiinctiivfygns weA. seen not far awa^y, to 

 the north of Granite Park. Just east of the point where the trail 

 crosses the ridge west of Cliief Mountain they were calling loudly 

 from the slide rock along the side of the little meadow, and as I dug 

 some little wild onions for my lunch one watched me with evident 

 interest and an oft-repeated yrrmp, ynmp. Apparently he could not 

 make out what kind of animal I was nor why I should be digging 

 grass in his meadow where all of the scanty hay was needed for his 

 Avinter supply. 



During the short, bright summers of these high, altitudes conies 

 are busy little people energetically gathering the grass and sedges 

 and various, small plants and storing them for winter use under the 

 rocks, where they dry and become like well-cured hay. A great 

 A-ariety of plants are thus, collected and apparenth^ nothing is re- 

 jected that has green foliage or stems. As the cold weather draws 

 near they redouble their energy, and the haystacks grow steadily 

 until the first permanent snows close in and bury both hay and hay- 

 maker. As storm after storm sweeps over and the mountains are 

 Ijuried deeper and deeper under the winter blanket, the conies are well 

 protected from both the severe weather and the attacks of numerous 

 enemies. Deep under the. rocks they can come a.ncl go for long dis- 

 tances and undoubtedly visit back and forth and perhaps exchange 

 dainty selections of hay with their friends and neighbors. In June, 

 when most of the big snow banks have melted over their rock piles, 

 a few little sticks and dry stems and particles of the hay are all that 

 I'emain, but the conies are out gathering the tender green plants as 

 they come up from the newly warmed earth. Their long, furrj', win- 

 ter coats are gradually exchanged for thinner and harsher summer 

 Avear, but otherwise they are the same timid, bright little animals of 

 the previous- autumn and none the worse for being buried seven or 

 eight months under the snow. 



The three or four young are born early in June, and by the middle 

 of July are usually found running about over the rocks with their 

 parents, and by the middle of August are helping to store the next 

 winter's hay crop. As they scamper about over the rocks with their 

 furry-soled feet, noiseless as the flight of an owl, they are rarely 

 seen except by those Avho know their voice and something of their 

 habits and the nature of their habitat. They are very timid, 

 and at the first alarm dive like a flash out of sight among the 

 rocks, but if one secures a good position from which to Avatch and 

 sits quietly for a fcAV minutes they Avill reappear as noiselessly ajs 

 they disappeared and often sit and Avatch the strange intruder at 

 close range foi' many minutes. Occasionally they will open their 

 mouths and emit a squeaky ijmnp while they Avatch closely to see 



