178 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XIV 
about 9250 feet elevation. We started the ascent early and long before noon we 
were in a snowy region of an intense dazzling whiteness. From the snow which 
everywhere covered the ground came a peculiar white light as from myriad tiny 
suns, and which made the region seem more like fairyland than earth. In this 
snow country except for noisy Nutcrackers birds were few, an occasional Moun- 
tain Chickadee, Mountain Bluebird, Sierra Junco or Western Robin being all 
that were noted. Notwithstanding this scarcity, however, we put in half the day 
scanning the trees with the forlorn hope that one might contain one of those 
shallow platforms of twigs and rootlets, peculiar to the family of grosbeaks, 
which our mind’s eye had often pictured. 
At 8500 feet altitude, where a roaring torrent billowed over rocks and 
boulders and through high drifts of snow, we stopped for luncheon to compare 
notes. To all it appeared necessary that the very next bird be secured for pur- 
poses of dissection. We now followed the waterway for some little time when, 
as it started a very rapid descent, I who happened to be leading, crossed to the 
south bank. Littlejohn, interested in the distant movements of a Williamson 
Sapsucker, crossed also and coming later to a fork we continued southwesterly. 
It was now a little after one o’clock and the three of us, about fifty yards apart, 
were rounding a very rocky hillside at the foot of which a shallow, placid lake 
glittered in the sunlight. Hearing the distant song of a Pine Grosbeak I drew 
nearer and soon saw the bird at the top of a fir about 200 feet high. Seldom if 
ever have I heard a more beautiful 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 
snowstreams. 
The song of the California Pine Grosbeak does not, I think, bear so much 
resemblance to that of Carpodaciis 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 com- 
parison merely serves to give a general idea of its style. The song consists of 
a series of trills, warl)lings and mellow, flute-like notes that must be heard to be 
appreciated. The bird as a songster ranks easily with the best of Sierran vocal- 
ists like the Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Water Ouzel and Sierra Hermit Thrush. 
Unlike 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. 
As I rounded the tree the bird left its lofty perch and, alighting in a low fir 
nearby, began a peculiar melodious twittering which unfortunately at that time I 
did not know the meaning of. Although I disliked very much to shoot any Pine 
Grosbeak, and this one in particular, I remembered our previous agreement and 
called Littlejohn to the spot. He succeeded in only slightly wounding it, how- 
ever, for when it struck the ground, it was apparent that the bird was still very 
much alive. To add to the excitement of the occasion, as Littlejohn shot, another 
Pine Grosbeak with heavy, startled flight fluttered out from an adjacent fir. As 
our wounded bird was racing away we liad no time to investigate this, but started 
in pursuit. After catching the disabled bird we returned to where the second 
bird had flown from. 
Littlejohn was slightly in the lead and when he reached the tree there, sure 
enough, on an open, outer branch in plain view, but sixteen feet up, was the 
