FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



When I had been at Pacific Grove — on the 

 Monterey peninsula — about a week, I walked a 

 few miles over the hill for a look down into Car- 

 mel Valley, of the beauty and birdiness of which 

 I had received alluring reports ; and on my way 

 back, after a forenoon of exceeding pleasure, a 

 young man driving into Monterey with a load of 

 apples (Carmel apples are in high repute here- 

 about, it appears, though my difficult Yankee 

 mouth was always hankering for a tart New 

 England russet), offered me a lift. Half reluct- 

 antly I accepted the invitation, and it was well I 

 did. 



We fell into talk, of course, and presently it 

 became known, some things being difficult of 

 concealment, that I was in search of birds, and 

 wanted of all things to see a few yellow-billed 

 magpies. " Magpies ? " the young man responded, 

 looking up with something of surprise in his face. 

 Yes, I said ; I had heard that there were some 

 on a certain ranch somewhere out this way, So- 

 and-So's ranch. Did he know where it was ? 



Oh, yes, he knew the place. But it was a hard 

 one to get at, especially just now, since the recent 

 heavy rains had swollen the river. But why did n't 

 I go down to such-and-such a creek, he asked. 

 For that I should n't have to cross the river ; and 

 there were magpies there, he was sure. He had 



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