levation of
nine thousand five hundred and eighty feet. Nowhere else in my
peregrinations among the Rockies did I so much as catch a glimpse of
Say's phoebe.[6]

[6] In 1901 this bird was seen by me in South Park, and its quaint
whistle was heard,--it says _Phe-by_, but its tone and expression
are different from those of its eastern relative. See the chapter
entitled "Pleasant Outings."

With the exception of some swallows circling about in the air, I saw no
other birds during my brief stay at Malta. I was sorely disappointed in
not being able to find accommodation at this place, for it had been my
intention to remain here for the night, and walk the next day to a
station called Granite, some seventeen miles farther down the valley,
making observations on bird life in the region by the way. To this day I
regret that my calculations went "agley"; but I was told that
accommodation was not to be secured at Malta "for love or money," and so
I shook the dust from my feet, and boarded an evening train for my next
stopping-place, which was Buena Vista.

The elevation of this beautiful mountain town is seven thousand nine
hundred and sixty-seven feet. It nestles amid cottonwood trees and green
meadows in a wide valley or park, and is flanked on the east by the
rolling and roaring Arkansas River, while to the west the plain slopes
up gradually to the foothills of the three towering college
peaks,--Harvard, Yale, and Princeton,--crowned all the year with snow.
And here were birds in plenty. Before daybreak the avian concert began
with the shrieking of the western wood-pewees--a vocal performance that
they, in their innocence, seriously mistake for melody--and continued
until night had again settled on the vale. In this place I spent three
or four days, giving myself up to my favorite study and pastime, and a
list of all the birds that I saw in the neighborhood would surprise the
reader. However, a mere catalogue would be of slight interest, I
apprehend, and therefore mention will be made only of those species
which I had not seen elsewhere, passing by such familiar feathered folk
as the Arkansas goldfinches, catbirds, western meadow-larks, Brewer's
blackbirds, house-finches, green-tailed towhees, magpies, long-crested
jays, summer warblers, and many others, begging their pardon, of course,
for paying them such scant courtesy.

Early on a bright morning I was following one of the streets of the
village, when,