T HE AU DUB O NB Usb ae 
flowers blooming in profusion out of “solid” rock. Ihe new 
plants and flowers everywhere were a constant delight—ever so 
many that don’t grow around Northern Illinois and Indiana, 
and aren't in Eastern flower guides either. One of our favorite 
flowers was the blue forget-me-not on mountain stream edges. 
reminding us of the masses of them that we'd enjoyed in German 
and Austrian Alps streams. The Great Smokies still win all 
the tree prizes but the Ponderosa Pine, the most common ever- 
green in the Black Hills, IS a beautiful tree with handsome 
cones. The Ponderosas’ dark foliage, seen from a distance, gave 
these mountains their name. 
The Blue Jay called often from the pines on the mountain 
slopes—and though we watched endlessly for the Magpie we saw 
him only once—in the lower farm country around Sturgis. We 
often heard Chickadees in the spruces and pines, but never saw 
them. We found the tin-horned Red Breasted Nuthatch when 
we hiked up to the now tdle gold mine and mill on Mt. Trojan 
above Lead. (The trip through the operating gold mill in Lead 
was a worthwhile afternoon, especially in these days of gold 
in the headlines every day.) 
I vainly checked every stream and bridge the whole ten 
days for sight of a Dipper, but never saw a one. We had be- 
come very fond of his handsomer, stout-hearted old world 
cousin, the Cinclus cinclus, as he bobbled around the rocks and 
stream of the Blautopf in Blauheuren, Germany. One bitter 
winter day when snow lay deep we had met him tripping mer- 
rily through a mostly tce-bound stream as jauntily as on a sum- 
mer’s day. But nary a single Cinclus mexicanus to greet us in 
South Dakota. 
Robins were in great abundance everywhere at all eleva- 
ticns, a most welcome sight after the sad tales of DDT poisoning 
farther east. We heard the Veery playing his organ near Rough- 
lock Falls and later that same day when we picnicked again by 
our peaceful beaver pond, a pair of incredibly elegant turquotse 
Mountain Bluebirds with one offspring fed tirelessly in a single 
clump of tall grass at the base of a tree. They flashed up now 
and then to sun on the fence (and pose for our pleasure) and 
then flew down again for more of whatever it was that was so 
delicious. A female Mountain Bluebird seemed quite tame and 
unaware of humans’ presence when we stopped at the main 
Park Headquarters, and again tight in Lead. 
We first met the Townsend's Solitare flitting inconspicu- 
ously through deep forest high on Mt. Trojan. Then again, the 
last evening of our stay, we were walking up an old logging 
road above our cabin when a rapidly flying bird came from no- 
where and almost flew into us. It landed right above us and 
turned out to be a Townsend’s Solitaire. We went on a little 
