Bird Life of Yosemite Park. 



249 



upon the tree trunks, but the short abrupt squeak of 

 the latter bird serves to distinguish it even at a distance. 

 The black back of Harris's woodpecker is interrupted by 

 a broad white streak, and the male has a dash of scarlet 

 on the head. The under parts are plain grayish white. 



But by all odds, the most unusual of the woodpeckers 

 in appearance is the familiar and widely distributed 

 red-shafted flicker. A big easy-going fellow is the flicker, 

 marked by the bright red shafts of the wing and tail 

 feathers, the white rump, the black breast crescent, the 

 scarlet mustache streaks (of the male only). The gen- 

 eral color of the body is a pale brownish pink, barred 

 with black above, and with round black dots on the 

 under parts. The flicker has a great variety of call 

 notes, loud, striking and easily recognized when once 

 learned. 



I need but allude to the so-called game birds which 

 happily here enjoy perpetual immunity from human per- 

 secution. An occasional mallard duck may be seen swim- 

 ming on the glassy waters of Mirror Lake, giving a 

 touch of life to the otherwise unearthly splendor of this 

 little pond, upon whose surface is imaged such a pageant 

 of granite cliffs and sky-searching peaks. Flocks of 

 band-tailed pigeons, with their deep cooing call notes, 

 are common in the valley, the trees beside the Merced 

 being favorite roosting places. Mountain quail are to 

 be found in the chaparral, the long sweeping head plume 

 and chestnut hue on throat and sides marking them at 

 once. In the spruce and pine trees on the summit of 

 the cliffs about Yosemite, the sooty grouse, a big blackish 

 brown hen-like bird, sounds its strange muffled booming. 



I cannot recall those sugar-pines and silver fir forests 

 that crown the Yosemite heights without a thrill of 

 delight. Here the poor-will utters its strange call through 

 the night-time and the mountain chickadees lisp and 

 chatter merrily by day. The chickadees, those social 

 care-free happy-go-lucky spendthrifts of the pines, in 

 their suits of gray, set off with head and throat markings 



