of the cold, strong gale that
was blowing across the snowy heights. A nighthawk was sailing in its
erratic course over the peaks--a bit of information worth noting, none
of these birds having been seen on any of the summits fourteen thousand
feet high. These matters are perhaps not of supreme interest, yet they
have their value as studies in comparative ornithology and are helpful
in determining the _locale_ of the several species named. In the same
interest I desire to add that mountain chickadees, hermit thrushes,
warbling vireos, and red-shafted flickers belong to my Breckenridge
list. Besides, what I think must have been a Mexican crossbill was seen
one morning among the pines, and also a large hawk and two kinds of
woodpeckers, none of which tarried long enough to permit me to make
sure of their identity. The crossbill--if the individual seen was a bird
of that species--wore a reddish jacket, explored the pine cones, and
sang a very respectable song somewhat on the grosbeak order, quite
blithe, loud, and cheerful.

On our return trip to Denver we stopped for a couple of days at the
quiet village of Jefferson in South Park, and we shall never cease to be
thankful that our good fairies led us to do so. What birds, think you,
find residence in a green, well-watered park over nine thousand feet
above sea-level, hemmed in by towering, snow-clad mountains? Spread out
around you like a cyclorama lies the plateau as you descend the mountain
side from Kenosha Pass; or wheel around a lofty spur of Mount Boreas,
and you almost feel as if you must be entering Paradise. It was the
fifth of July, and the park had donned its holiday attire, the meadows
wearing robes of emerald, dappled here and there with garden spots of
variegated flowers that brought more than one exclamation of delight
from our lips.

_SOUTH PARK FROM KENOSHA HILL_

_A paradise of green engirdled by snow-mantled mountains, making a
summer home for western meadow-larks, Brewer's blackbirds, desert horned
larks, and western Savanna sparrows._

[Illustration]

Before leaving the village, our attention was called to a colony of
cliff-swallows, the first we had seen in our touring among the
mountains. Against the bare wall beneath the eaves of a barn they had
plastered their adobe, bottle-shaped domiciles, hundreds of them, some
in orderly rows, others in promiscuous clusters. At dusk, when we
returned to the village, the birds were going to bed, and it was