The blue-jays are as noisy in our woods as in other parts of the world, and as inquisitive and impertinent.
In summer we have flights of little yellow-birds just like canaries. One of my boys brought his pet canary from England in a little cage. He cared for and tended it all the long journey, and until we were on board the steamer coming up the Willamette. In the course of the morning he thought he would clean out his bird's cage. The open door was too strong a temptation. Out slipped the captive, and, after a short flight or two in the cabin, away he went into the outer air and perched on the upper rail of the pilot-house. After a moment he caught sight of a flock of little yellow-birds flitting round a big tree by a farmhouse on the bank. Off flew the little traveler to join them, and the last we saw of him was that he was joyfully joining the new company, while his master stood disconsolately watching the escape of his favorite.
Flocks of little bluebirds (Sialia Mexicana) frequent the town, the whole of their plumage a bright metallic blue. Among them is sometimes seen the golden oriole (Icterus Bullockii), making, with his orange jacket and black cap, a brilliant contrast with his blue companions.
Along the fences, and in the clumps of bushes filling their angles, is the favorite haunt of a pretty bird (Pipilo Oregonus), in plumage almost exactly resembling the European bullfinch; like him too in habit, as he accompanies you along the road in little, jerky flights.
HUMMING-BIRDS AT HOME.When the winter day has closed in, and the lamps are lighted, several times the little snow-bunting (Iunco Oregonus) has come tapping at the window, attracted by the light, and seeking refuge in the warmth within from the rough wind and driving rain without. In the honeysuckle, which covers the veranda and climbs over the face of the house, two sets of humming-birds (Selasphorus rufus) made their home. It was pretty to watch them as they poised themselves to suck the honey, and then darted off to one flower after another among the beds, returning every instant to their nests, close to our heads, as we sat out in the cool evening air. We were taken in several times by the humming-bird moths, which imitated exactly the motions of the birds.
CHAPTER VIII.
Up to the Cascades—Farming by happy-go-lucky—The foot-hills—Sweet Home Valley—Its name, and how deserved and proved—The road by the Santiam—Eastward and upward—Timber—Lower Soda Springs—Different vegetation—Upper Soda Springs—Mr. Keith—Our reception—His home and surroundings—Emigrants on the road—The emigrant's dog—Off to the Spokane—Whence they came—Where they were bound—Still eastward—Fish Lake—Clear Lake—Fly-fishing in still water—The down slope east— Lava-beds—Bunch-grass—The valleys in Eastern Oregon—Their products —Wheat-growing there—Cattle-ranchers—Their home—Their life—In the saddle and away—Branding-time—Hay for the winter—The Malheur reservation—The Indians' outbreak—The building of the road—When, how, and by whom built—The opening of the pass—The history of the road—Squatters—The special agent from Washington—A sham survey.
After recovering from a sharp attack of illness last fall, I was sent away for change of air. I fancied the mountain air would revive me speedily; so we resolved to travel up to the Upper Soda Springs, in the Cascades. It was two days' journey from the valley. The first twenty miles led us across the rich valley portion of Linn County. We had to pass through the little town of Lebanon.
Near here we saw an illustration of farming carelessness that I must mention. The harvest of 1879 was marked by the first recorded instance of rust attacking the spring-sown wheat. The spring was unusually late, and when the rains ceased, about the 25th of May, the summer sun broke forth at once with unclouded warmth and splendor. The lately sown grain sprang up in marvelous vigor, and the crop promised abundantly for the farmer, when, just before the wheat hardened in the ear, the rust seized it, the leaf took a yellow tinge, and the grain shriveled up. The valley portions of Linn, Lane, Marion, and Benton Counties suffered, the first-named the most severely.