CLOUD CAP INN
It was delightful to see how familiarly birds gathered about the house. You could sit in the front doorway and when not absorbed in looking off on the three wonderful snow peaks—St. Helens, Rainier, and Adams—rising above the Cascade range, could watch Oregon Juncos, Steller's Jays, Oregon Jays, and Nutcrackers coming down to drink at the hydrant twenty feet away; while the Ruby Kinglet and White-crowned Sparrow, together with Townsend's Solitaire and other interesting westerners, moved about in the branches of the low timber-line pines; and Lewis' Woodpeckers, with their long, powerful flights, crossed over the forested cañons below. Crossbills had stayed around the house sociably for three weeks together, Mrs. Langille, the noble old mother of the mountaineers, told me. She said they would fly against the logs of the house and call till she went out to feed them. They left with the first heavy storms, though usually, she said: "That's the time when we have birds come around the house—when there are storms." And a friendly hospice the feathered wayfarers find it so long as the Inn is open!
CLARK'S CROW
The Oregon Jays and Clark's Crows are, as I said, the regular pensioners of the house. The Jays look very much like their relatives the Canada Jays, but are darker, and when you are close to them the feathers of their backs show distinct whitish shaft-streaks. The Crows have the general form and bearing of Crows, but are black only on wings and tail, their general appearance being gray. Speaking of the birds, Mrs. Langille said: "If I was in the kitchen myself I'd have them come right to the porch outside; when I'm in the kitchen I'm always throwing out crumbs for the birds and squirrels, and I've had the Jays come and sit right down on the block where I was cutting meat and take the fat right out of my hands." Clark's Crows, she said, would not eat from her hand, but would sit on the back porch and call for their breakfast.
When I was at the Inn, the Chinese cook used to throw scraps from the table over a lava cliff, and both Crows and Jays spent most of their time carrying it off. As the foot of the cliff was one of the best places to watch them, I spent part of every day there, and when the smell of coffee grounds got too strong, consoled myself by looking through the trees up at the grand white peak of Hood.
It was interesting to see the difference in the ways of the two birds. The Nutcracker would fly down to the rocks with rattling wings, and, when not too hungry to be critical, would proceed to investigate the breakfast with the air of a judge on the bench, for he is a dignified character. To touch the hem of his robe to the food would have been defilement, so he went about pressing his wings tight to his sides, sometimes giving them a little nervous shake. To smile at this sober-minded person seems most disrespectful, but the solemnity of his gambols was surely provocative of mirth. Not content with turning his long-billed head judicially from side to side as he advanced through the scraps, if the biscuit on his left was not to his mind, with one great ungainly leap he would box half the compass and plant his big feet before a potato on his right. This he would proceed to probe with a grave air of interrogation, and if he decided the case in the negative would withdraw his beak and pass to the next case on the docket. Once when the potato was half a waffle, he pried it up tentatively with his long bill, and at last, deciding in its favor, proceeded to fly off with it, his long legs dangling ludicrously behind him.
OREGON JAY