The Dawson Leuco 



economy operates with the precision of clock-work. In goes a ration of 

 insects, out comes the wastage of a previous feeding, all done up in sanitary 

 white wrappings. The parent seizes the bundle and carries it two or three 

 hundred feet away before dropping it. The nest and its vicinage are kept 

 immaculate, and the bird's arch-enemy, the Clark Nutcracker, has no 

 clew from careless ordure as to the presence of possible victims. 



The little ones are silent for a day or so, but as their strength in- 

 creases they greet the returning parent with an increasing uproar of 

 satisfaction. The secret is out, now, for such as will hear, but it is not 

 until the day of first flight that the outcry of the youngsters becomes 

 incessant. Hearing that he was out, I pursued the firstborn of a certain 

 brood with photographic intent. But the youngster was wary. He 

 fluttered and chirped his way around the east wall, and then when I 

 headed him off, he spread his little wings and flew clear across the amphi- 

 theater, a distance of near a hundred yards. He made a successful 

 landing on a ledge, but afterwards he fell into the bergschrund, from which 

 he was rescued, or coaxed, by his anxious mama. This youngster, once 

 out, cheeped without intermission for at least eight hours. I timed him 

 once, and he cheeped exactly 104 times in a minute. That's 49,920 

 cheeps in a union day! 



In complete contrast with this bantling's behavior was that of a 

 baby sister (?) whom I found sitting quietly on a rock-slide. When I 

 approached she said nothing, but started out 

 bravely, and tumbled in the snow thirty feet 

 away. Distinctly bored by this show 

 bad form, she presently tried again; 

 and I'm blessed if she didn't rise on 

 those little wings and make the west 

 wall as valiantly as her noisy brother 

 had done. Moreover, she sought a 

 well and hid quietly, while the 

 cheeper winged off for other fields — ■ 

 much to our relief. 



The Leucosticte is not, as I had 

 once supposed, songless. It would be 

 fair to say, however, that he is tune- 

 less. The "song" of the male con- 

 sists only of a high-pitched ecstatic 

 (for him) chirping, reeled off by the 

 minute and without definite inter- 

 mission. The notes vary so in 

 "quantity," i. e., in length and inten- 



Taken in Mono County Photo by the Author 



A FOOD-LADEN MALE ABOVE NESTING CREVICE 



176 



