ofessor Cooke, as
Batchelder's woodpecker. Near the same place I saw a second pair of
mountain bluebirds, flitting about somewhat nervously, and uttering a
gentle sigh at intervals; but as evening was now rapidly approaching, I
felt the need of finding lodging for the night, and could not stop to
hunt for their nest.

Faring down the mountain side to the lake, I circled around its lower
end until I came to the cottage of the family who have the care of the
reservoirs that supply the three towns at the foot of the mountains
with water fresh from the snow-fields. Here, to my intense relief, I was
able to secure lodging and board as long as I desired to remain.

I enjoyed the generous hospitality offered me for two nights and
considerably more than one day. It was a genuine retreat, right at the
foot of a tall mountain, embowered in a grove of quaking asps. Several
persons from Colorado Springs, one of them a professor of the college,
were spending their outing at the cottage, and a delightful fellowship
we had, discussing birds, literature, and mountain climbing.

After resting awhile, I strolled up the valley to listen to the vesper
concert of the birds, and a rich one it was. The western robins were
piping their blithesome "Cheerilies," Audubon's warblers were trilling
in the pines, and, most of all--but here I had one of the most
gratifying finds in all my mountain quest. It will perhaps be remembered
that the white-crowned sparrows, so plentiful in the upper valley, were
not to be seen in the valley of Moraine Lake. Still there were
compensations in this cloistered dip among the towering mountains; the
mountain hermit thrushes--sometimes called Audubon's thrushes--found the
sequestered valley precisely to their liking, and on the evening in
question I saw them and heard their pensive cadences for the first time.
Such exquisite tones, which seemed to take vocal possession of the vale
and the steep, pine-clad mountain side, it has seldom been my good
fortune to hear. Scores of the birds were singing simultaneously, some
of their voices pitched high in the scale and others quite low, as
though they were furnishing both the air and the contralto of the
chorus. It was my first opportunity to listen to the songs of any of the
several varieties of hermit thrushes, and I freely confess that I came,
a willing captive, under the spell of their minstrelsy, so sweet and sad
and far away, and yet so rich in vocal expression. In