Swarming of the Ruby-Crowned Kinglet

Abstract

W HEN the endless come and go and care and worry of the city has tired one to the point of distraction, every fiber yearns for a change. How welcome the day when care may be cast aside! Such a time came to me last June. Early, while the mists floated leisurely up from a hill-hemmed lake, and mountain shadows fell heavy and long over the lower forests, and the sun toucht with glory some distant gleaming peaks, I wended my way across the foothills, up onto the shoulders of the mountains, past towering rocks from whose caves and crannies came the flute-sweet notes of the Rock Wren; while distant, circled a screaming hawk, startled from its nest on a dead fir tree. At the crest of a ridge a brood of Nutcrackers croakt their garrulous scoldings. There, as the cool mountain winds moved among the dwarft pines, was a clear view of the city and the river winding far into the great dim mountains. Here a trail led to a deep tangle of thicket and steep, rocky hills where the wild deer live during the summer months. How the crisp mountain air buoys you up with unwonted vigor and energy! What a change from the dust and din, way yonder on the paved and noisy streets! At this elevation the Clarke Nutcracker nests, and here also a company of Western Evening Grosbeaks were nesting. From here I hastened down into the valley of a little brook which hurried along over stones and roots, in and out of mossy nooks, over which grow a dark mass of hemlock, fir and cedar, making a dense, shadowy dell, with pools and cress beds and mossy stones and logs, over which a Varied Thrush hurried to safety. The song of a Vireo lent charm, while wild flowers added their sweetness.