in the sunshine.
I counted more than fifty varieties, none of which I knew, and still
they seemed endless.

Usually I wandered off the trail to follow birds or animals. In the
arctic-like zone above were birds entirely strange to me, and animals
that never came down to the valley of the ranch. It was not long
before I discovered that nearly all birds and animals live at a certain
zone of altitude, rarely straying above or below it.

Occasionally I heard a queer "squee-ek." It sounded close, yet its
maker was invisible. Many times I looked up, searching the air
overhead for the elusive "squee-eker." At last I came upon a bunch of
grass, no larger than a water pail, and stopped to examine it. Grass
and flowers had been piled loosely in an irregular heap, resembling a
miniature haystack.

"Something making a nest," I observed aloud.

"Squee-ek," denied a shrill voice almost at my elbow.

Ten feet away upon a bowlder that rose above the rest of the rocks, sat
a small animal which at first I mistook for a young rabbit. In shape
and size he closely resembled a quarter-grown cottontail, but his ears
were different from any rabbit's, being short and round. His eyes were
beady; somehow he made me think of a rat. He ran down the rock and
climbed to another perch. Not even so much tail as a bunny--none at
all. In some respects he resembled a rabbit, a squirrel and a prairie
dog. His actions reminded me of all of them. In fact, he is sometimes
called "Rock Rabbit" and "Little Chief Hare." He may have other names
besides.

I watched the interesting little fellow for some time and later found
his actions characteristic of his tribe. He literally makes hay while
the summer shines. He is the only harvester I ever saw who works on
the run. He dashed at top speed, without stopping for breath, bit off
a mouthful of grass and again ran pell-mell for his growing stack. He
scampered down its side, then leaped from an adjacent rock to its top,
laden with his bundle of hay. Evidently he found the alpine summer
short and felt it necessary to step lively. Altitude, that convenient
scapegoat of tenderfeet, did not seem to affect his wind or his
endurance. He stacked his harvest in one corner of the field from
which he cut it. He cut flowers along with the grass. Perhaps he used
them for flavor as grandmother put rose-geranium leaves in her
crab-apple jelly. The haycock he built was about the size of a
bucket--I ha