Nov., 1906 | LIFE HISTORY OF THE CALIFORNIA CONDOR. PART I 
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sides with our field-glass, but saw 110 signs of condors. Then the rest of the party 
went back on the trail a way and clambered down to the creek along, which they 
ascended to a pocket in the side of the cliff opposite, that seemed to be climbable. 
They investigated several likely-looking places. On up the steep side they climbed 
till several hundred feet above the bed of the stream, while I kept vigil with the 
glasses. After hunting for an hour, no trace of condors could be found. Then, 
while we were all in good position to watch, according to agreement, I fired three 
shots from my revolver to see if the bird could be scared from the nest which we 
were sure was somewhere in the locality. A few moments later, we all caught 
sight of a condor just alighting on a ridge quite a way up the canyon; we all saw 
her, but no one knew from which direction she came. I watched her for half an 
hour thru the glasses as she preened her 
feathers and stretched. This looked encour- 
aging, as the actions were those of a sitting 
bird. Then suddenly, she took wing and 
sailed up the gorge out of sight. Thinking 
she had started for her nest, I hurried back 
down the mountain side, scrambling over 
bowlders, sliding, and hanging to bushes, till I 
reached the creek, and then worked on up for 
half a mile till my progress was stopped by a 
water-fall cutting down thru two walls of 
rock. In the meantime my companions from 
their side had watched the condor as she 
flew over and lighted on a high cliff, then 
back to her former perch, and up the canyon 
again to the old tree on the cliff side where 
the young bird was seen last year. From their 
outlook up the mountain side, they saw her 
jump down to a lower perch, where she was 
hidden from view. After waiting half an 
hour, since she did not appear again, they de- 
scended the steep slope and we ate a hurried 
lunch and planned a further search. 
We all knew just about where the old con- 
dor had disappeared, but the steep side of the 
mountain was rough and impassable in places. 
Further search revealed nothing along the FINLEY AND BOHLMAN ON THEIR WAY TO THE 
ledges and among the bowlders. But we still condor s nest, giving an idea of the 
had. the last and surest resort, the sound of 
the old pistol, that roared like a battery of cannons as the echoes reverberated from 
cliff to cliff. 
Climbing up the opposite slope to a ledge across from where the old bird dis- 
appeared, I had a complete survey of the place where the nest was supposed to be. 
Both sides of the gorge were steep and not too far apart for us to yell back and 
forth, but for all oui calling no condor appeared. 
Finally, three more shots were fired a few seconds apart, and after the third, 
the old condor suddenly appeared on a rock only twenty feet above the head of one 
of my companions. The hunter instinctively crawled behind a tree as the big bird 
sat theie looking as if she were about to pitch into the intruder, who was yelling 
like mad at finding the nest. I myself was making the canyon resound with whoops 
