wet, swampy places. The robin,
who comes to city gardens in the winter, has a summer home in the
mountains or redwoods. There, too, the saucy jay screams and chatters,
and flashes his blue wings as he flies, scolding all the time.

In Southern California, among the orange groves or in gardens, the
mocking-bird trills in sweet, liquid notes his wonderful song. He
mimics, too, many sounds he hears, and sometimes when caged will
whistle tunes or say words. The mocker can crow or cackle like the
chickens, or mew like the cat. Then he will whistle clear and loud
till dogs or boys answer his call. When they find themselves fooled,
it is said, he mimics a laugh.

From April to July the birds are busy, nesting, feeding their
families, or teaching them to fly. Many eggs never hatch, and some
are destroyed by wild animals. Boys often rob a whole nest to have one
little blown egg in their collections. Then again the mother is killed
and her brood starves to death. When the parent birds are teaching the
nestlings to fly, cats also catch the little ones. So you see the poor
feathered things have many enemies.

Let us try to protect the birds, and to let them live happy lives
in freedom. Each one will thank you, either with sweet songs or with
being a beautiful thing to see on land or ocean.

[Illustration: YOUNG TOWHEE.]

[Illustration: BABY YELLOW WARBLERS. From photographs by Elizabeth
Grinnell.]

OUR WILD ANIMALS

Once upon a time, when the Spanish owned this state and called it
their province of Alta California, there were great herds of antelope
feeding on the grassy plains, and at every little stream elk and deer
and big grizzly bears came down to drink. No fences had been built,
and the wild animals had never heard a rifle-shot. Free and fearless
they ranged valley and hillside, or made their dens in the thick
brush, or "chaparral," as the Spanish called it.

Indian hunters watched the paths over which these wild creatures
travelled to water, and killed deer and antelope with their arrows.
But these hunters were afraid of grizzly bears, for an arrow in Mr.
Bear's thick hide only made him cross, and with one hug, or even a
light blow from his paw, he could cripple the poor Indian. So in those
early days the old bears came year after year, and carried off sheep
and cattle. The simple folks did not even try to kill them. Indeed,
many of the red men believed that very bad Indians were punished by
being turned