The Mountain Bluebird. 



265 



On August 3, 191 1, Mr. Robert M. Price and I found 

 two nests on the banks of the Tuolumne in Hetch Hetchy. 

 The young birds were still in the nest, but sufficiently 

 fledged to hop out and fly short distances when alarmed 

 by our approach. Whenever one of the youngsters 

 essayed to fly, one of the parent birds got deftly under 

 him, while in the air, and gave him a "boost" toward a 

 new perch. The young had well-marked brownish wing 

 bars. 



■"Do you know the blackened timber — do you know that racing 

 stream 



With the raw, right-angled log-jam at the end; 

 And the bar of sun-warmed shingle where a man may bask and 

 dream 



To the click of shod canoe-poles round the bend? 

 It is there that we are going with our rods and reels and traces, 



To a silent, smoky Indian that we know, — 

 To a couch of new-pulled hemlock with the starhght on our faces. 



For the Red Gods call us out and we must go !" 



— Kipling. 



