34 



Sierra Club Bulletin, 



about 200 feet high. Seldom if ever have I heard a more beau- 

 tiful song than that which floated out from the top of the tall, 

 massive fir and the effect of which the wild surroundings did 

 much to accentuate. The day was calm and still; that almost 

 deathly silence peculiar to high altitudes remained unbroken 

 save for the distant roar of angry snow-streams. . . . 



The song of the California pine grosbeak does not, I think, 

 bear so much resemblance to that of Carpodacus cassini (which 

 Price has compared it with) as it does to that of the black-headed 

 grosbeak. However, as it is so much more varied, melodious 

 and rich than that of the black-headed grosbeak, the comparison 

 merely serves to give a general idea of its style. The song con- 

 sists of a series of trills, warblings and mellow, flute-like notes 

 that must be heard to be appreciated. The bird as a songster 

 ranks easily with the best of Sierran vocalists like the ruby- 

 crowned kinglet, water ouzel and Sierra hermit thrush. Un- 

 like the western robin which, perched on some tree top, will 

 sing through almost the entire day, the pine grosbeak is not a 

 persistent singer and only on rare occasions have I been given 

 the opportunity of hearing its song. . . . 



The following day (June i8th) Little john and I returned a 

 second time to the locality where on June 13th we had seen 

 the first birds on the plateau. Here, in passing along the edge 

 of deep snow-drifts which lay everywhere through the woods. 

 Little john came upon a female Pinicola feeding on the snow, 

 while a brilliant red-plumaged male was flitting among the 

 boughs above. In endeavoring to secure the latter the female 

 was seen to fly to a nearby tree, where she began hopping from 

 branch to branch until a height of about twenty-five feet had 

 been attained, whereupon she flew to, and disappeared in, the 

 thick foliage of a hemlock bough. Advancing nearer, Little- 

 john could just discern the tail of the bird projecting over 

 what might be a nest and which on my climbing the tree proved 

 so to be. Being situated eight feet out near the end of the 

 limb, and in a thick patch of foliage, it could not be seen from 

 above except by spreading the branches apart. On doing this 

 and after the sitting bird had been urged off with a long stick 

 the nest was seen to contain three eggs. Being unable, without 

 equipment, to do anything further, we started back to camp. 



