neck, becoming quite narrow on the nape, but widening out
on the side so as to cover the entire breast and throat. This pectoral
shield is mottled with black and lightly stained with buff in spots; the
forehead, chin, superciliary line, and a broad space on the cheek are
dyed a deep crimson; and, not least by any means, the abdomen is washed
with pink, which is delicately stencilled with white, gray, and buff. A
most gorgeous bird, fairly rivalling, but not distancing, Williamson's
sapsucker.

By accident I made a little discovery relative to the claws of this
woodpecker which, I suppose, would be true of all the _Picidae_ family.
The claws of the two fore toes are sharply curved and extremely acute,
making genuine hooks, so that when I attempt to pass my finger over them
the points catch at the skin. Could a better hook be contrived for
enabling the bird to clamber up the trunks and branches of trees? But
note: the claws of the two hind toes are not so sharply decurved, nor
so acute at the points, the finger slipping readily over them. Who can
deny the evidence of design in nature? The fore claws are highly
specialized for clinging, the very purpose for which they are needed,
while the hind claws, being used for a different purpose--only that of
support--are moulded over a different pattern.

Like our common red-head, this bird has the habit of soaring out into
the air and nabbing insects on the wing. The only other pair of these
woodpeckers I was so fortunate as to meet with were found in the ravine
leading up from Buena Vista to Cottonwood Lake.[9] Their nest was in a
dead tree by the roadside. While the first couple had been entirely
silent, one of the second pair chirped somewhat uneasily when I lingered
beneath his tree, suspecting, no doubt, that I had sinister designs upon
his nest. Unlike some of their kinsmen, these pickers of wood seem to be
quiet and dignified, not given to much demonstration, and are quite
leisurely in their movements both on the branch and on the wing.

[9] Two years later a pair were seen on a mountain near Golden,
Colorado, and probably twenty individuals were watched a long time
from a canyon above Boulder as they circled gracefully over the
mountains, catching insects on the wing.

One day, when walking up Ute Pass, celebrated both for its magnificent
scenery and its Indian history, I first saw the water-ousel. I had been
inspecting Rainbow Falls, and was duly impres