A walk in the woods in the early morning or evening will acquaint one with another spring bird, Vaux's Swift, invariably seen about the streams.
A Quail's Nest.
In our hasty glimpse of the birds, it is impossible to enumerate all the feathered flock, and the renewal of a few old acquaintances will have to suffice. A very characteristic summer inhabitant of Marin's woodlands is the Red Shafted Flicker, a large bird, conspicuous when flying for its gay plumage, and often seen about the stumps of rotten trees, in the holes of which it makes its nest. While strolling in the woods we are often startled by a sharp rat-tat-tat on a neighboring alder, and on close approach a flutter of wings discloses a black-and-white creature with a dash of scarlet on his head. This is Harris's Woodpecker which makes the silent woods resound to its noisy rapping. A harsh, squawking call, a swift flight of blue wings, and an ensuing, noisy chatter announce the saucy California jay—the least lovable to my mind of all the California birds. He is the Rockefeller of the bird-world, consuming and destroying the eggs of his fellow birds, leaving destruction and ruin in his wake in the shape of desolate, broken nests. A pleasing contrast to this sharp, unruly bird, is the large, beautiful orange mottled Bullock's Oriole, who fills the air near sundown, with his rich, melodious warble, which he repeats with never-tiring zeal.
A Humming Bird's Nest.
