146 East and West 
Water oozes from the ground and drips from 
theleaves. Petals of the toothwort droop and 
fall and not even a flicker is to be heard. 
The south-west wind, rolling up its dense 
moisture-filled clouds, puts a quietus upon all 
but the stream, which, swollen and turbid, 
changes its key and sings in a higher, more 
vociferous tone. 
When of a sudden the wind veers to the 
north, the masses of cloud are blown far out 
to sea and sunshine prevails again. Soon the 
ants are traversing the stream as before, 
flocks of bush-tits flit merrily through the 
leaves, and the thrasher resumes his song. 
From the chaparral comes the faint flute-like 
trill of the wren-tit, and from the oaks the 
familiar and cheery call of the flicker; while 
far above the grove the Western redtail 
circles in stately and rhythmical flight, ap- 
pearing through the skylights in the oaks as 
a diminutive speck in the blue. 
