174 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XIV 
pasture lands, and in many places it was covered by rank overgrowth and marked, 
almost everywhere, more or less, by all the sins of wintry storms. 
Every mile now brought us nearer to the goal of our journey and we watched 
eagerly for nests that would indicate how far the aestival season had advanced. 
We had noted three nests of the Western Robin since leaving Phillips’ Station 
the first at 6500 feet elevation and the others at 5500 feet, all with complements 
of fresh eggs ; but as the nesting of this bird is so irregular and extends through 
such a long season it afforded but a poor index to seasonal conditions. 
Our first nest on the Georgetown Road I found at 5800 feet, and was of the 
Blue-fronted Jay, six feet up in a black oak with four half fledged young. The 
second, at 6250 feet, was a Slender-billed Nuthatch’s, in a cavity of a dead tree 
but two feet above the ground, with five callow young. Heinemann, at 6500 
feet, found the third nest, one of the Yellow Warbler, in a bush by the roadside 
with four fresh eggs. These three nests seemed to indicate that, when the 7500 
foot level was reached, conditions would be what we had calculated upon finding. 
The road, which had continued winding and steep, now made a wide, final 
curve around the mountain side and landed us upon the edge of the Pyramid 
Peak Plateau, a region of vast forests and endless, wide, deep canons. Where the 
precipitous character of the country did not cause the streams to descend in foam- 
ing cataracts or roaring, vapory waterfalls, limpid and swift they sped through 
the forests or peacefully wandered through fertile, boggy meadow lands, oc- 
casionally emptying into or emerging from some glassy lake of that wild, pictur- 
esque beauty which only high altitudes can bestow. 
It was now not long before the road forked, one branch leading north to 
Wright’s Lake and Moratini’s. and the other east to the Forni Meadow and Pyra- 
mid Peak. The first find on the Forni branch was by Littlejohn, a newly built 
nest of the Green-tailed Towhee which was placed a few feet up in a thorny cea- 
nothus by the roadside. The road kept steadily, although very gradually, as- 
cending towards the base of Pyramid Peak, the direction, east, being directly 
(Opposite to what we had been travelling in order to reach the Plateau. Abotit us, 
ihe budding willows, the fresh green grass and bright flowers of the meadowy 
tracts showed the region to be still in its vernal season. Soon scattered patches 
of snow, fast melting in the warm sun, lay on the road, and as w e j^roceeded they 
grew larger and larger until soon the road was lost beneath them. 1 endeavored 
to trace the road from the occasional glimpses where it emerged at times, while 
to Littlejohn and Heineman was given the equally difficult task of piloting ‘‘Jim” 
with his 163-pound load over, or rather through, them ; for now, in the late 
afternoon, the snow was very soft. At times, when the burro floundered about 
the great drifts, it seemed as if he could scarcely continue unless the load be 
taken off. Where possible, however, w^e made wide detours to avoid the deeper 
drifts and, wdiere drifts hemmed us in, we tamped a narrow' path through them 
which the sapient pack-burro was quick to take advantage of. 
At one place I came upon a fir stump with a likely looking cavity and on 
tapping it and hearing the sibilant note of the Mountain Chickadee I decided 
to investigate further. The decayed wood yielded quickly to a sharp hand-ax 
and a set of seven eggs, slightly incubated, soon lay revealed on a thick bed of 
fur. Scarcely a quarter of a mile farther on I found another cavity in a fir stump 
from which as I chopped the hissing of the chickadee within gave notice of its 
being occupied. The nest held eight eggs in the same condition as the first set ; 
both were of the unmarked type. The snow about the stump varied from three 
