commended, and cannot be claimed
for every family, either avian or human.

At 4.30 that morning I crept out of bed and climbed far up one of the
mountain sides--this was before the jays came to the cabin. The wind
blew so icy from the snow-clad heights that I was only too glad to wear
woollen gloves and pin a bandanna handkerchief around my neck, besides
buttoning up my coat collar. Even then I shivered. But would you believe
it? The mosquitoes were as lively and active as if a balmy breeze were
blowing from Arcady, puncturing me wherever they could find a vulnerable
spot, and even thrusting their sabres through my thick woollen gloves
into the flesh. They must be extremely hardy insects, for I am sure such
arctic weather would send the mosquitoes of our lower altitudes into
their winter hiding-places. People who think there are no mosquitoes in
the Rockies are reckoning without their hosts. In many places they
assaulted us by the myriad until life among them became intolerable, and
some were found even in the neighborhood of perpetual snow.

Raw as the morning was, the hermit thrushes, mountain chickadees,
Audubon's warblers, gray-headed juncos, and ruby-crowned kinglets were
giving a lively rehearsal. How shy they were! They preferred being
heard, not seen. Unexpectedly I found a hermit thrush's nest set in
plain sight in a pine bush. One would have thought so shy a bird would
make some attempt at concealment. It was a well-constructed domicile,
composed of grass, twigs, and moss, but without mortar. The shy owner
was nowhere to be seen, nor did she make any outcry, even though I stood
for some minutes close to her nest. What stolidity the mountain birds
display! You could actually rob the nests of some of them without
wringing a chirp from them. On two later visits to the place I found
Madame Thrush on her nest, where she sat until I came quite close, when
she silently flitted away and ensconced herself among the pines, never
chirping a syllable of protest or fear. In the bottom of the pretty crib
lay four deep-blue eggs. Afterwards I found one more hermit's nest,
which was just in process of construction. In this case, as in the
first, no effort was made at concealment, the nest being placed in the
crotch of a quaking asp a rod or so above the trail, from which it could
be plainly seen. The little madame was carrying a load of timbers to her
cottage as we went down the trail, and sat in the nest moulding and
putti