FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



curves and crazy bridges, while I from my end 

 seat (which, for some reason, there was no need 

 to scramble for) looked down, down, down into 

 the ravines below. 



A mile or two before reaching the tavern the 

 road ran into a forest of spruces — the big-cone 

 spruce, I was told afterward. A promising wood 

 for woodpeckers, thought I ; and, when the car 

 stopped, I started instantly for the summit. I 

 wished to be first on the trail for the sake of the 

 birds — woodpeckers or what-not — that any one 

 who should precede me might frighten out of 

 sight. 



I need not have hurried myself. There were 

 no birds to be frightened : a few California jays, 

 by this time an old story; one or two plain tit- 

 mice ; and perhaps two or three other things 

 (spurred towhees, as I now remember) ; and 

 even these not in the spruce woods or the oaks, 

 but about the open summit, where it was plain 

 they had grown accustomed to regale themselves 

 on picnickers' leavings. As for the condor, I 

 looked and looked, but might have been in the 

 mountains of New Hampshire for all the good 

 that came of it. On the way down, to be sure, 

 a large bird was seen soaring high in air ; but, as 

 well as I could make out, it was only a golden 

 eagle. 



96 



