Section 1 of My First Summer in the Sierra. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir. Read by Adrian Pretzelis. Dedication to the Sierra Club of California. Faithful defender of the people's playgrounds. Section 1. 1869. In the Great Central Valley of California, there are only two seasons, spring and summer. The spring begins with the first rainstorm, which usually falls in November. In a few months, the wonderful flowery vegetation is in full bloom, and by the end of May it is dead and dry and crisp, as if every plant had been roasted in an oven. Then the lolling, panting, flocks and herds are driven to the high, cool, green pastures of the Sierra. I was longing for the mountains about this time, but money was scarce and I couldn't see how a bread supply was to be capped up. While I was anxiously brooding on the bread problem, so troublesome to wanderers, I'm trying to believe that I might learn to live like the wild animals, gleaning nourishment here and there from seeds, berries, etc., sauntering and climbing in joyful independence of money or baggage. Mr. Delaney, a sheep owner for whom I had worked a few weeks, called on me, had offered to engage me to go with his shepherd and flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuwalmi Rivers, the very region I had most in mind. I was in the mood to accept work of any kind that would take me into the mountains, whose treasures I had tasted last summer in the Yosemite region. The flock, he explained, would be moved gradually higher through the successive forest belts as the snow melted, stopping for a few weeks at the best places we came to. These I thought would be good centres of observation, from which I might be able to make many telling excursions within a radius of eight or ten miles of the camps, and learn something of the plants, animals and rocks. For he assured me that I should be left perfectly free to follow my studies. I judged, however, that I was in no way the right man for the place, and freely explained my shortcomings, confessing that I was wholly unacquainted with the topography of the upper mountains, the streams that would have to be crossed, and the wild sheep-eating animals, etc. In short, what with bears, coyotes, rivers, canyons and thorny bewildering chaparral, I feared that half or more of his flock would be lost. Fortunately, these shortcomings seemed insignificant to Mr. Delaney. The main thing he said was to have a man about the camp who he could trust to see that the shepherd did his duty, and he assured me that the difficulties that seemed so formidable at a distance would vanish as we went on. Encouraging me further by saying that the shepherd would do all the herding, that I could study plants and rocks and scenery as much as I liked, and that he would himself accompany us to the first main camp, and make occasional visits to our higher ones to replenish our store of provisions to see how we prospered. Therefore, I concluded to go, though still fearing when I saw the silly sheep bouncing one by one through the narrow gates of the home corral to be counted, that of the two thousand and fifty many would never return. I was fortunate in getting a fine St. Bernard dog for a companion. His master, a hunter with whom I was slightly acquainted, came to me as soon as he heard that I was going to spend the summer in the Sierra and begged me to take his favourite dog, Carlo, with me, for he feared that if he were compelled to stay all summer on the plains, the fierce heat might be the death of him. I think I can trust you to be kind to him, he said, and I am sure he will be good to you. He knows all about the mountain animals, will guard the camp, assist in managing the sheep, and in every way be found able and faithful. Carlo knew we were talking about him, watched our faces, and listened so attentively that I fancied he understood us. Calling him by name, I asked him if he was willing to go with me. He looked me in the face with eyes expressing wonderful intelligence, then turned to his master, and after permission was given by the wave of the hand towards me and a farewell patting caress, he quietly followed me as if he perfectly understood all that had been said and had known me always. July 3, 1869. This morning provisions, camp-ketles, blankets, plant, press, etc., were packed on two horses, the flock headed for the tawny foothills, and away we sauntered in a cloud of dust. Mr. Delaney, bony and tall, with sharply hacked profile like Don Quixote, leading the packhorses, Billy the proud shepherd, a Chinaman, a digger Indian to assist in driving for the first few days in the brushy foothills, and myself, with notebook tied to my belt. The homerunch from which we set out is on the south side of the Tuolumne River, near French Bar, where the foothills of metamorphic gold-bearing slates dip below the stratified deposits of the Central Valley. We had not gone for more than a while before some of the old leaders of the flock showed by the eager, inquiring way they ran and looked ahead that they were thinking of the higher pastures they had enjoyed last summer. Soon the whole flock seemed to be hopefully excited, the mothers calling their lambs, the lambs replying in tones wonderfully human, their fondly, quavering calls interrupted now and then by hastily snatched mouthfuls of withered grass. Amid all this seeming babel of bars as they streamed over the hills, every mother and child recognized each other's voice. In case a tired lamb, half asleep in the smothering dust, should fail to answer, its mother would come running back through the flock toward the spot whence its last response was heard and refused to be comforted until she found it. The one of a thousand, though to our eyes and ears, all seemed alike. The flock travelled at the rate of about a mile an hour, outspread in the form of an irregular triangle, about a hundred yards wide at the base and a hundred and fifty yards long, with a crooked, ever-changing point made up of the strongest foragers called the leaders, which, with the most active of those scattered along the ragged sides of the main body, hastily explored nooks in the rocks and bushes for grass and leaves. The lambs and feeble old mothers dawdling in the rear were called the tail-end. About noon the heat was hard to bear. The poor sheep panted pitifully and tried to stop in the shade of every tree they came to, while we gazed with eager longing through the dim, burning glare toward the snowy mountains and streams, though not one was in sight. The landscape is only wavering foothills, roughened here and there with bushes and trees and outcropping masses of slate. The trees, mostly the blue oak, Quercus Douglasi, are about thirty to forty feet high, with pale, blue-green leaves and white bark, sparsely planted on the thinnest soil or in crevices of rocks beyond the reach of grass fires. Slates in many places rise abruptly through the tawny grass in sharp, lichen-covered slabs like tombstones in deserted burying grounds. With the exception of the oak and four or five species of Manzanita and Cianothus, the vegetation of the foothills is mostly the same as that of the plains. I saw this region in the early spring when it was a charming landscape garden full of birds and bees and flowers. Now the scorching weather makes everything dreary. The ground is full of cracks, lizards glide about on the rocks and ants in amazing numbers whose tiny sparks of life only burn the brighter with the heat. Fairly quiver with unquenchable energy as they run in long lines to fight and gather food. How it comes that they do not dry to a crisp in a few seconds' exposure to such sunfire is marvellous. A few rattlesnakes lie coiled in out-of-the-way places, but are seldom seen. Magpies and crows, usually so noisy, ask silence now, standing in mixed flocks on the ground beneath the best shade trees, with bills wide open and wings drooped, too breathless to speak. The quails also are trying to keep in the shade about the few tepid alkaline water-holes. Cottontail rabbits are running from shade to shade among the Cianothus brush, and occasionally the long-eared hare is seen cantering gracefully across the wider openings. After a short noon rest in a grove, the poor, dust-choked flock was again driven ahead over the brushy hills, but the dim roadway we had been following faded away just where it was most needed, compelling us to stop and look about us and get our bearings. The Chinaman seemed to think we were lost and chattered in pigeon English, concerning the abundance of Liddy-Stick, Chaparral, while the Indians silently scanned the billowy ridges and gulches for openings. Pushing through the thorny jungle, we at length discovered a road tending towards Coulterville, which we followed until an hour before sunset, when we reached a dry ranch and camped for the night. Camping in the foothills with a flock of sheep is simple and easy, but far from pleasant. The sheep were allowed to pick up what they could find in the neighbourhood until after sunset, watched by the shepherd, while the others gathered wood, made a fire, cooked, unpacked, and fed the horses, etc. About dusk the weary sheep were gathered on the highest open spot near camp, where they willingly bunched close together, and after each mother had found her lamb and suckled it, all lay down and required no attention until morning. Supper was announced by the call, Grubb. Each with a tin plate helped himself direct from the pots and pans, while chatting about such camp studies as sheep feed, mines, coatties, bears, or adventures during the memorable gold days of Paydirt. The Indian kept in the background, saying never a word as if he belonged to another species. The meal finished, the dogs were fed, the smokers smoked by the fire, and under the influence of fullness and tobacco, the calm that settled on their faces seemed almost divine, something like the mellow meditative globe or trade on the countenance of saints. Then, suddenly, as if awakening from a dream, each with a sigh or a grunt, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, yawned, gazed at the fire a few moments and said, Well, I believe I'll turn in, and straightway vanish beneath his blankets. The fire smothered and flickered an hour or two longer. The stars shone brighter. Coons, coyotes, and owls stirred the silence here and there, while crickets and hylors made a cheerful, continuous music, so fitting and full that it seemed a part of the very body of the night. The only discordance came from a snoring sleeper and the coughing sheep with dust in their throats. In the starlight, the flock looked like a big grey blanket. June 4. The camp was a stir at daybreak. Coffee, bacon, and beans formed breakfast, followed by quick dishwashing and packing. A general bleating began about sunrise. As soon as a mother U arose, her lamb came bounding and bunting for its breakfast, and after the thousand youngsters had been suckled, the flock began to nibble and spread. The restless weathers with ravenous appetites were the first to move, but dare not go far from the main body. Billy and the Indian and the Chinaman kept them headed along the weary road and allowed them to pick up what little they could find on a breadth of about a quarter of a mile. But as several flocks had already gone ahead of us, scarcer leaf, green or dry, was left. Therefore the starving flock had to be hurried on over the bare hot hills to the nearest of the green pastures, about twenty or thirty miles from here. The pack animals were led by Don Quixote, a heavy rifle over his shoulder intended for bears and wolves. This day has been as hot and dusty as the first, leading over gently sloping brown hills with mostly the same vegetation, except for the strange-looking Sabine Pine, Pinus subiniana, which here forms small groves or is scattered among the blue oaks. The trunk divides at a height of fifteen or twenty feet into two or more stems, out leaning or nearly upright, with many straggling branches and long grey needles, casting but little shade. In general appearance, this tree looks more like a palm than a pine. The cones are about six or seven inches long, about five in diameter, very heavy and last long after they fall so that the ground beneath the trees is covered with them. They make fine, resiny, light-giving campfires next to the ears of Indian corn, the most beautiful fuel I've ever seen. The nuts, the Don tells me, are gathered in great quantities by the digger Indians for food. They are about as large and hard-shelled as hazelnuts. Food and fire fit for the gods from the same fruit. June 5 This morning, a few hours after setting out with the crawling sheep cloud, we gained the summit to the first well-defined bench on the mountain flank at Pinoblanco. The Sabine pines interest me greatly. They are so airy and strangely palm-like I was eager to sketch them and was in a fervour of excitement without accomplishing much. I managed to halt long enough, however, to make a tolerably fair sketch of Pinoblanco peak from the southwest side, where there is a small field and vineyard irrigated by a stream that makes a pretty fall on its way down a gorge by the roadside. After gaining the open summit of this first bench, feeling the natural exhilaration due to the slight elevation of a thousand feet or so and the hopes excited concerning the outlook to be obtained, a magnificent section of the Merced Valley at what is called Horseshoe Bend came fall into sight. A glorious wilderness that seemed to be calling with a thousand songful voices. Bold, down-sweeping slopes feathered with pines and clumps of manzanita with sunny, open spaces between them make up most of the foreground. The middle and background present fold beyond fold of finely modelled hills and ridges rising into mountain-like masses in the distance. All covered with a shaggy growth of chaparral, mostly at an ostoma, planted so marvelously close and even that it looks like soft, rich plush without a single tree or bare spot. As far as the eye can reach, it extends, a heaving, swelling sea of green as regular and continuous as that produced by the heaths of Scotland. The sculpture of the landscape is as striking as its main lines in its lavish richness of detail, a grand congregation of massive heights with the river shining between, each carved into smooth, graceful folds without leaving a single rocky angle exposed as if the delicate fluting and ridging fashioned out of metamorphic slates had been carefully sandpapered. The whole landscape showed design like man's noblest sculptures. How wonderful the power of its beauty! Gazing awe-stricken, I might have left everything for it. Glad, endless work would be mine tracing the forces that have brought forth its features, its rocks and plants and animals and glorious weather. Beauty beyond thought, everywhere, beneath, above, made and being made forever. I gazed and gazed and longed and admired until the dusty sheeps and packs were far out of sight, made hurried notes and a sketch, though there was no need of either, for the colours and lines and expression of this divine landscape countenance are so burned into mind and heart they surely can never grow dim. The evening of this charm day is cool, calm, cloudless and full of a kind of lightning I've never seen before. White glowing, cloud-shaped masses down among the trees and bushes like quick-throbbing fireflies in the Wisconsin meadows rather than the so-called wildfire. The spreading hairs of the horses' tails and sparks from our blankets show how highly charged the air is. June 6. We are now on what may be called the second bench or plateau of the range after making many small ups and downs over belts of hill waves with, of course, corresponding changes in the vegetation. In open spots, many of the lowland composite are still to be found and some of the Mariposa tulips and other conspicuous members of the Liddy family but the characteristic blue oak of the foothills is left below and its place is taken by a fine large species, Quercus californica with deeply lobed deciduous leaves, picturesquely divided trunk and broad, massy, finely lobed and muddled head. Here also at a height of about 2,500 feet we come to the edge of the great coniferous forest made up mostly of yellow pine with just a few sugar pines. We are now in the mountains and they are in us kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh and bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us as if truly an inseparable part of it thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks in the waves of the sun. A part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well but immortal. Just now I can hardly conceive of any bodily condition dependent on food or breath any more than the ground or the sky. How glorious a conversion so complete and wholesome it is scarcely memory enough of old bondage days left to stand point to view it from. In this newness of life we seem to have been so always. Through a meadow opening in the pine woods I see snowy peaks above the headwaters of the masseur above Yosemite. How near they seem and how clear their outlines on the blue air or rather in the blue air for they seem to be saturated with it. How consuming strong the invitation they extend shall I be allowed to go to them? Night and day I'll pray that I may but it seems too good to be true. Someone worthy will go able for the Godful work. Yet as far as I can I must drift about these love monument mountains glad to be a servant of servants in so holy a wilderness. I found a lovely lily Callochortus albus in a shady Adanostima thicket near Coltaville in company with Adiantum Chillensi. It is white with a faint purplish tinge inside of the base of the petals. A most impressive plant pure as snowcrestle one of the plant saints that all must love and be made so much the purer by it every time it is seen. He puts the roughest mountaineer on his good behaviour. With this plant the whole world would seem rich though none other existed. It is not easy to keep on with the camp cloud while such plant people are standing preaching by the wayside. During the afternoon we pass the fine meadow bounded by stately pines mostly the arrowy yellow pine with here and there a noble sugar pine its feathery arms outspread above the spires of its companion species in marked contrast a glorious tree its cones fifteen to twenty inches long swinging like tassels at the end of the branches with superb ornamental effect saw some logs of this species at the Greeley Mill they are round and regular as if turned in a lathe except in the butt cuts which have a few buttressing projections the fragrance of the sugary sap is delicious and scents the mill and lumber yard how beautiful the ground beneath this pine thickly strewn with slender needles and grand cones and the pines of cone scales seed wings and shells around the instep of each tree where the squirrels have been feasting they get the seeds by cutting off the scales at the base in regular order doing their spiral arrangement and the two seeds at the base of each scale a hundred or two and a cone must make a good meal the yellow pine cones and those of most other species and genera are held upside down on the ground by the Douglas squirrel and turned around gradually until stripped while he sits usually with his back to a tree probably for safety strange to say he never seems to get himself smeared with gum not even his paws or whiskers and how cleanly and beautiful in colour the cone litter kitchen middens he makes we are now approaching the region of clouds and cool streams magnificent white cumuli appeared about noon above the Asemedy region floating fountains refreshing the glorious wilderness sky mountains in whose pearly hills and dales the streams take their rise blessing with cooling shadows and rains no rock landscape is more varied in sculpture none more delicately modelled than these landscapes of the sky domes and peaks rising, swelling white as finest marble and firmly outlined a most impressive manifestation of world building every rain cloud however fleeting leaves its mark not only on trees and flowers whose pulses are quickened and on the replenished streams and lakes but also on the rocks are its marks engraved whether we can see them or not I've been examining the curious and influential shrub adenostema fisciculata first noticed about horseshoe bend it is very abundant on the lower slope of the second plateau near Colterville forming a dense almost impenetrable growth that looks dark in the distance it belongs to the rose family is about 6 or 8 feet high has small white flowers in racemes 8 to 12 inches long round needle-like leaves and reddish bark that becomes shreddy when old it grows on sun-beaten slopes and like grass is often swept away by running fires quickly renewed from the roots any trees that might have established themselves in its midst are at length killed by these fires and this no doubt is the secret of the unbroken character of its broad belts a few manzanitas which also rise again from the root after consuming fires make out to dwell with it also a few bush composite bachorus and linoceros and also some lilicaceous plants mostly caloclorus and bradesia with deep set bulbs safe from fire a multitude of birds and weaselinkit-coding timorous beasties find good homes in its deepest thickets and the open bays and lanes that fringe the margins of its belts offer shelter and food to the deer when winter storms drive them down from their higher mountain pasture a most admirable plant it is now in bloom and I like to wear its pretty fragrant racemes in my buttonhole azalea occidentalis another charming shrub grows beside cool streams hereabouts and much higher in the Yosemite area we found it this evening in bloom a few miles above Greely's Mill where we are camped for the night it is closely related to the Rhododendrons is very showy and fragrant and everybody must like it not only for itself but for the shady alders and willows, ferny meadows and living water associated with it another conifer was met today Incense cedar Libosedrus decorans a large tree with warm yellow-green foliage in flat plumes like those of the Arbivite bark cinnamon coloured and as the bowls of the old trees are without limbs they make striking pillars in the woods where the sun chances to shine on them a worthy companion of the kingly sugar and yellow pines I feel strangely attracted to this tree the brown, close grained wood as well as the small segale-like leaves is fragrant and the flat overlapping plumes make fine beds and must shed the rain well it would be delightful to be storm-bound with one of these noble, hospitable inviting old trees its broad, sheltering arms bent down like a tent incense rising from the fire made from its dry fallen branches and a hearty wind chanting overhead but the weather is calm tonight and our camp is only a sheep camp we are near the north fork of the Mesed the night wind is telling the wonders of the upper mountains and gardens, forests and groves even their topography is in its tones and the stars the everlasting sky lilies how bright they are now that we have climbed above the lowland dust the horizon is bounded and adorned by a spirey wall of pines every tree harmoniously related to every other definite symbols divine hieroglyphics written with sunbeams wood I could understand them the stream flowing past the camp through ferns and lilies and alders makes sweet music to the ear but the pines marshalled around the edge of the sky make a yet sweeter music to the eye divine beauty all here I could stay tethered forever with just bread and water nor would I be lonely loved friends and neighbours as love for everything increased would seem all the nearer however many the miles and mountains between us end of section 1 section 2 of my first summer in the Sierra this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org my first summer in the Sierra by John Muir read by Adrian Pretzellis section 2 June 7 the sheep were sick last night and many of them are still far from well hardly able to leave camp coughing groaning looking wretched and pitiful all from eating the leaves of the blessed azalea so at least say the shepherd and the don having had little grass since they left the plains they are starving and so eat anything green they can get sheep men call the azalea sheep poison and wonder what the creator was thinking about when he made it so desperately does sheep business blind degrade though supposed to have a refining influence in the good old days we read of the California sheep owner is in haste to get rich and often does now that pastureage costs nothing while the climate is so favourable that no winter food supply shelter pens or barns are required therefore large flocks may be kept at slight expense and large profits realised the money invested doubling it is claimed every other year this quickly acquired wealth usually creates desire for more then indeed the wall is drawn close down over the poor fellow's eyes dimming or shutting out almost everything worth seeing as for the shepherd his case is worst still especially in winter when he lives alone in a cabin for although stimulated at times by hopes of one day owning a flock and getting rich like his boss he at the same time is likely to be degraded by the life he leads and seldom reaches the dignity or advantage or disadvantage of ownership the degradation in his case has for cause one not far to seek he is solitary most of the year and solitude to most people seems hard to bear he seldom has much good mental work or recreation in the way of books coming into his dingy hovel cabin at night stupidly weary he finds nothing to balance and level his life with the universe no after his dull drag all day after the sheep he must get his supper he is likely to slight this task and try to satisfy his hunger with whatever comes handy perhaps no bread is baked then he just makes a few grimy flapjacks in his unwashed frying pan boils a handful of tea and perhaps fries a few strips of rusty bacon usually there are dried peaches or apples in the cabin but he hates to be bothered with the cooking of them just swallows the bacon and flapjacks and depends on the genial stupid faction of tobacco for the rest then to bed often without removing the clothing worn during the day of course his health suffers his mind and seeing nobody for weeks or months he finally becomes semi insane or holy so the shepherd in Scotland seldom thinks of being anything but a shepherd he has probably descended from a race of shepherds and inherited a lie of an aptitude for the business almost as marked as that of his collie he has but a small flock to look after sees his family and neighbours has time for reading in fine weather and often carries books to the fields with which he may converse with kings the Oriental Shepherd we read called his sheep by name they knew his voice and followed him the flocks must have been small and easily managed allowing piping on the hills an ample leisure for reading and thinking but whatever the pleasures of sheep culture in other times and countries the California Shepherd as far as I've seen or heard is never quite sane for any considerable time of all nature's voices Bar is about all he hears even the howls and cailles of coyotes might be a blessing if well heard but he hears them only through a blur of mutton and wool and they do him no good the six sheep are getting well and the shepherd is discoursing on the various poisons lurking in these high pastures azalea calmyr alkali after crossing the North Fork of the Merced we turn to the left toward Pilot Peak and made a considerable ascent on a rocky brush-covered ridge to Browns Flat where for the first time since leaving the plains the flock is enjoying plenty of green grass Mr Delaney intends to seek a permanent camp somewhere in the neighbourhood past several weeks before noon we passed Bower Cave a delightful marble palace not dark and dripping but filled with sunshine which pours into it through its wide open mouth facing the south it has a fine deep clear little lake with mossy banks inboured with broad-leaved maples all underground wholly unlike anything I've seen in the cave line there is a large part of Kentucky where a large part of the state is honeycombed with caves this curious specimen of subterranean scenery is located on a belt of marble that is said to extend from the north end of the range to the extreme south many other caves occur on the belt but none like this as far as I have learned combining as it does sunny outdoor brightness and vegetation it is claimed by a Frenchman who has fenced and locked it placed a boat on the lake-lit and seats on the mossy bank under the maple trees and charges a dollar admission fee being on one of the ways to the Yosemite Valley a good many tourists visit it during the travel months of summer regarding it as an interesting addition to their Yosemite wonders Poison Oak or Poison Ivy both as a bush and a scramble up trees and rocks is common throughout the foothills region up to a height of at least 3,000 feet above the sea it is somewhat troublesome to most travelers in flaming the skin and eyes but blending harmoniously with its companion plants and many a charming flower leans confidently upon it for protection and shade I have often times found the curious twining lily the falyrian californicum climbing its branches showing no fear but rather congenial companionship sheep eat it without apparent ill effects so do horses to some extent though not fond of it and to many persons it is harmless like most other things not apparently useful to man it has few friends and the blind question why was it made goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself brown's flat is a shallow fertile valley on the top of the divide between the north fork of the Mercedes and Bull Creek commanding magnificent views in every direction here the adventurous pioneer David Brown made his headquarters for many years dividing his time between gold hunting and bear hunting where could lonely hunter find a better solitude game in the woods gold in the rocks health and exhilaration in the air while the colours and cloud furniture of the sky are ever inspiring through all sorts of weather though sternly practical like most pioneers old David seems to have been uncommonly fond of scenery Mr. Delaney who knew him well tells me that he dearly loved to climb to the summit of a commanding ridge over the forests to the snow-clad peaks and sources of the rivers and over the foreground valleys and gulches to note where minors were at work or claims were abandoned judging by smoke from cabins and campfires the sound of axes etc and when a rifle shot was heard to guess who was the hunter whether Indian or some poacher on his wide domain his dog Sandy accompanied him everywhere and well the little hairy mountaineer knew and loved his master and his master's aims in deer hunting he had but little to do trotting behind his master as he slowly made his way through the wood careful not to step heavily on dry twigs scanning open spots in the chaparral where the game loves to feed in the early morning and towards sunset peering cautiously over ridges as new outlets were reached and along the meadowy borders of streams but when bears were hunted little Sandy became more important and it was as a bear hunter that Brown became famous his hunting method as described by Mr. Delaney who had passed many a night with him in his lonely cabin and learned his stories was simply to go slowly and silently through the best bear pastures with his dog and rifle and a few pounds of flour until he found a fresh track and then to follow it to the death paying no heed to the time required wherever the bear went he followed led by little Sandy who had a keen nose and never lost the track however rocky the ground when high open points were reached the likeliest places were carefully scanned the time of year enabled the hunter to determine approximately where the bear would be found in the spring and early summer on open spots about the banks of streams and stringy places eating grass and clover and lupins or in dry meadows feasting on strawberries towards the end of the summer on dry ridges feasting on manzanita berries sitting on his haunches pulling down the laden branches with his paws and pressing them together so as to get good compact mouthfuls however much mixed with twigs and leaves in the Indian summer beneath the pines chewing the cones cut off by the squirrels or occasionally climbing a tree to gnaw and break off the fruitful branches in late autumn when acorns are ripe Bruins favourite feeding grounds are groves of the California oak in park like canyon flats always the cunning hunter knew where to look and seldom came upon Bruin unawares when the hot scent showed the dangerous game was nigh a long halt was made and the intricacies of the topography and vegetation leisurely scanned to catch a glimpse of the shaggy wanderer or to at least determine where he was most likely to be whenever, said the hunter I saw a bear before it saw me I had no trouble in killing it I just studied the lay of the land and got to see what of it no matter how far around I had to go and then worked up to within a few hundred yards or so at the foot of a tree that I could easily climb but too small for the bear to climb then I looked well to the condition of my rifle took off my boots so as to climb well if necessary and waited till the bear turned its side in clear view when I could make a shore or at least a good shot in case it showed fright out of reach but bears are slow and awkward with their eyes and being to leeward of them they could not send me and I often got in a second shot before they noticed the smoke usually however they run when wounded and hide in the brush I let them run a good safe time before I ventured to follow them and Sandy was pretty sure to find them dead if not he barked and drew their attention and occasionally rushed in for a distracting bite so that I was able to get to a safe distance for a final shot oh yes bear hunting is safe enough when followed in a safe way though like every other business it has its accidents and little doggy and I have had some close calls bears like to keep out of the way of men as a general thing but if an old lean hungry mother with cubs met a man on her own ground she would in my opinion had a catch and eat him this would be only fair play anyhow for we eat them but nobody here about has been used for bear grub that I know of Brown had left his mountain home ere we arrived but a considerable number of digger Indians still linger in their cedar bark huts on the edge of the flat they were attracted in the first place by the white hunter whom they had learned to respect and to whom they looked for guidance and protection against their enemies the Paiutes who sometimes made raids across from the east side of the range to plunder the stores of the comparatively feeble diggers and steal their wives June 8th the sheep now grassy and good natured slowly nibble their way down into the valley of the north fork of the Merced at the foot of Pilot Peak Ridge to the place selected by the dawn for our first central camp a picturesque hopper shaped hollow formed by converging hill slopes at the bend of the river here racks for dishes and provisions were made in the shade of the riverbank trees and beds of fern fronds cedar plumes and various flowers each to the taste of its owner and a corral back on the open flat for the wool June 9th how deep our sleep last night in the mountains heart beneath the trees and stars hushed by solemn sounding waterfalls and many small soothing voices in sweet accord whispering peace and our first pure mountain day warm calm cloudless how immeasurable it seems how serenely wild i can scarcely remember its beginning along the river over the hills in the ground in the sky spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm new life new beauty unfolding unrolling in glorious exuberant extravagance new birds in the nests new winged creatures in the air and new leaves new flowers spreading shining rejoicing everywhere the trees about the camp stand close giving ample shade for ferns and lilies while back from the bank most of the sunshine reaches the ground calling up the grasses and flowers in glorious array tall bromus waving like bamboos starry composite monadella mariposa tulips lupins, gileas billets, glad children of light soon every fern frond will be unrolled great beds of common peteris and woodwardia along the river wreaths and rosettes of pelia and chillanthes on sunny rocks some of the woodwardia fronds are already six feet high a handsome little shrub chamibatia foliosa belonging to the rose family spreads a yellow green mantle beneath the sugar pines for miles without a break not mixed or roughened with other plants only here and there a washington lily may be seen nodding above its even surface or a bunch or two of tall bromus as if for ornament this fine carpet shrub begins to appear at say 2,500 or 3,000 feet above sea level is about knee high or less has brown branches and the largest stems are only about half an inch in diameter the leaves light yellow green thrice pinnate and finely cut give them a rich ferny appearance and they are dotted with minute glands that secrete wax with a peculiar pleasant odor that blends finely with the spicy fragrance of the pines the flowers are white five eighths of an inch in diameter and look like those of the strawberry am delighted with this little bush it is the only true carpet shrub of this part of the Sierra the manzanita, ramnus and most of the species of sea anothus make shaggy rugs and border fringes rather than carpets or mantles the sheep do not take kindly to their new pastures perhaps from being too closely hemmed in by the hills never fully at rest last night they were frightened probably by bears or coyotes prowling and planning for a share of the grand mass of mutton June 10 very warm we get water for the camp from a rock basin at the foot of a picturesque cascading reach of the river where it is well stirred and made lively without being beaten into dusty foam the rock here is a black metamorphic slate worn to smooth knobs in the stream channels contrasting with the fine grey and white cascading water as it glides and glances and falls in lace-like sheets and braided overfolding currents tufts of sedge growing on the rock knobs that rise above the surface produce a charming effect the long elastic leaves arching over in every direction the tips of the longest drooping into the current which dividing against the projecting rocks makes still finer lines uniting with the sedges to see how beautiful the happy stream can be made nor is this all for the giant saxifrage also is growing on some of the knob rock islets firmly anchored and disobeying their broad round umbrella-like leaves in showy groups by themselves or above the sedge tufts the flowers of this species saxifragopeltata are purple and form tall glandular racemes that are in bloom before the appearance of the leaves the fleshy rootstocks grip the rock in cracks and hollows and thus enable the plant to hold on against occasional floods a marked species employed by nature to make yet more beautiful the most interesting portions of these cool clear streams near camp the trees arch over from bank to bank making a leafy tunnel full of soft subdued light through which the young river sings and shines like a happy living creature heard a few peels of thunder from the upper Sierra and saw firm white bossy cumuli rising back of the pines this was about noon June 11 On one of the eastern branches of the river discovered some charming cascades with a pool at the foot of each of them white dashing water a few bushes and tufts of caracks on ledges leaning over with fine effect and large orange lilies assembled in superb groups on fertile soil beds beside the pools there are no large meadows or grassy plains near camp to supply lasting pasture for our thousands of busy nibblers the main dependence is on sea and oathous brush on the hills and tufted grass patches here and there with lupins and pee vines among the flowers on sunny open spaces large areas have already been stripped bare or nearly so compelling the poor hungry wall bundles to scatter far and wide keeping the shepherds and dogs at the top of their speed to hold them within bounds Mr. Delaney has gone back to the plains taking the Indian and Chinaman with him leaving instruction to keep the flock here or hereabouts until his return which he promised would not be long delayed how fine the weather is nothing more celestial can I conceive how gently the winds blow scarce can these tranquil air currents be called winds they seem the very breath of nature whispering peace to every living thing down in the camp del there is no swaying of treetops most of the time not a leaf moves I don't remember having seen a single lily swinging on its stalk though they are so tall the least breeze would rock them what grand bells these lilies have some of them big enough for children's bonnets I've been sketching them and would feign draw every leaf of their wide shining whirls and every curved and spotted petal more beautiful better kept gardens cannot be imagined the species is lilam pardalilam five to six feet high leaf whirls are foot wide flowers about six inches wide bright orange purple spotted in the throat segments resolute a majestic plant end of section two section three of my first summer in the Sierra this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org my first summer in the Sierra by John Muir read by Adrian Pretzelis section three June 12 a slight sprinkle of rain large drops far apart falling with heavy pat and plash on leaves and stones and into the mouths of the flowers cumuli rising to the eastward how beautiful their pearly bosses how well they harmonize with the upswelling rocks beneath them mountains of the sky solid looking finely sculptured their richly variegated topography wonderfully defined never before have I seen clouds so substantial looking in form and texture nearly every day toward noon they rise with visible swelling motion as if new worlds were being created and how fondly they brood and hover over the gardens and forests with their cooling shadows and showers keeping every petal and leaf in glad health and heart one may fancy the clouds themselves are plants springing up in the sky fields at the call of the sun growing in beauty until they reach their prime scattering rain and hail like berries and seeds then wilting and dying the mountain live oak common here and a thousand feet or so higher is like the live oak of Florida not only in general appearance foliage, bark and wide branching habit but in its tough, knotty un-wedgable wood standing alone with plenty of elbow room the largest trees are about 7 to 8 feet in diameter near the ground 60 feet high or wider across the head the leaves are small and undivided mostly without teeth or wavy edging though on young shoots some are sharply serrated both kinds being found on the same tree the cups of the medium sized acorns are shallow thick walled and covered with a golden dust of minute hairs some of the trees have hardly any main trunk dividing near the ground with a large, wide-spreading limbs and these, dividing again and again terminate in long drooping cord-like branchlets many of which reach nearly to the ground while a dense canopy of short shining leafy branchlets form a round head which looks something like a cumulus cloud when the sunshine is pouring over it a marked plant is the bush-poppy dendromicon rigidum found on the hot hillsides near camp the only woody member of the order I have yet met in all my walks its flowers are bright orange-yellow an inch or two inches wide fruit pods at three or four inches long slender and curving height of bush is about four feet made up of many slim straight branches radiating from the root a companion of the manzanita and other sun-loving chaparral scrubs June 13 another glorious Sierra Day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where life seems neither long nor short and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars this is true freedom a good practical sort of immortality yonder rises another white sky-land how sharply the yellow pine spires and the palm-like crowns of the sugarpines are outlined on its smooth white domes and hark the grand thunder billows booming rolling from ridge to ridge followed by the faithful shower a good many herbaceous plants come thus far up the mountains from the plains and are now in flower two months later than their lowland relatives saw a few columbines today most of the ferns are in their prime rock ferns on the sunny hillsides chillanthes, pelia pymnogram, woodwardia aspidium, woodseer along the stream banks and the common peteris aquilina on sandy flats this last however common is here making shows of strong, exuberant abounding beauty to set the botanist wild with admiration I measured some scarce full-grown that are more than seven feet high though the commonest and most widely distributed of all the ferns I might almost say that I never saw it before the broad-shoulded fronds held high on smooth stout stalks growing close together over-leaning and overlapping make a complete ceiling beneath which one may walk erect over several acres without being seen as if beneath a roof and how soft and lovely the light streaming through this living ceiling revealing the arching, branching ribs and veins of the fronds as the framework of countless panes of pale green and yellow plant glass nicely fitted together a fairyland created out of the commonest modern stuff the smaller animals wonder about as if in a tropical forest I saw the entire flock of sheep vanish at one side of a patch and reappear a hundred yards further on at the other their progress betrayed only by the jerking and trembling of the fronds and strange to say very few of the stout woody stalks were broken I sat a long time beneath the tallest fronds I never enjoyed anything in the way of a bower of wild leaves more strangely impressive only spread a fern front over a man's head and worldly cares are cast out and freedom and beauty and peace come in the wavering of a pine tree on the top of a mountain a magic wand in nature's hand every devout mountaineer knows its power a marvelous beauty value of what the Scotch call a Brecken in a still dale what poet has sung of this it would seem impossible that anyone however encrusted with care could escape the godful influence of these sacred fern forests yet this very day I saw a shepherd pass through one of the finest of them without betraying more feeling than his sheep I asked they're only damn big breaks he replied lizards of every temper style and colour dwell here seemingly as happy and companionable as the birds and squirrels lowly gentle fellow mortals enjoying god's sunshine and doing the best they can in getting a living I like to watch them at their work and play they bear acquaintance well and one likes them the better the longer one looks into their beautiful innocent eyes they're easily tamed and one soon learns to love them as they dart about on the hot rocks swift as dragonflies the eye can hardly follow them but they never make long sustained runs usually only about 10 or 12 feet then a sudden stop and a sudden a start again going all their journeys by quick jerking impulses these many stops I find are necessary as rests for they are short-winded and when pursued steadily are soon out of breath pant pitifully and are easily caught their bodies are more than half-tail but these tails are well managed and never heavily dragged or curved up as if hard to carry on the contrary they seem to follow the body lightly of their own will some are coloured like the sky bright as bluebirds others grey like the lichened rocks on which they hunt and bask even the horned toad of the plains is a mild harmless creature and so are the snake-like species which glide in curves with true snake motion while their small, undeveloped limbs drag as useless appendages one specimen 15 inches long which I observed closely made no use whatever of its tender sprouting limbs but glided with all the soft sly ease and grace of a snake here comes a little grey dusty fellow who seems to know and trust me running about my feet and looking up cunningly into my face Carlo is watching makes a quick pounce on him for the fun of the thing I suppose the leers has shot away from his paws like an arrow and is safe in the recesses of a clump of chaparral gentle soreans dragons descendants of an ancient and mighty race heaven bless you all and make your virtues known for few of us know as yet that scales may cover fellow creatures as gentle and lovable as feathers or hair or cloth the dons and elephants used to live here no great geological time ago as shown by their bones often discovered by miners in washing gold gravel and bears of at least two species are here now beside the California lion or panther and wild cats, wolves foxes, snakes scorpions, wasps, tarantulas but one is almost tempted at times to regard a small savage black ant a master existence of this vast mountain world these fearless, restless wandering imps though only about a quarter of an inch long are fonder of fighting and biting than any beast I know they attack every living thing around their homes often without cause as far as I can see their bodies are mostly jaws curved like ice hooks and to get work for these weapons seems to be their chief aim and pleasure most of their colonies are established in living oaks somewhat decayed or hollowed in which they can conveniently build their cells these are chosen probably because of their strength as opposed to the attacks of animals and storms they work both day and night creep into dark caves climb the highest trees wander and hunt through cool ravines as well as on hot unshaded ridges extend their highways and byways over everything but water and sky from the foothills to a mile above the level of the sea nothing can stir without their knowledge and alarms are spread in an incredibly short time without any howl or cry that we can hear I can't understand the need of their ferocious courage there seems to be no common sense in it sometimes no doubt they fight in defense of their homes but they fight anywhere and always wherever they can find anything to bite as soon as a vulnerable spot is discovered on man or beast they stand on their heads and sink their jaws and though torn limb from limb they will yet hold on and die biting deeper when I contemplate this fierce creature so widely distributed and strongly entrenched I see that much remains to be done ere the world is brought under the rule of universal peace and love on my way to camp a few minutes ago I passed a dead pie nearly 10 feet in diameter it has been enveloped in fire from top to bottom so that now it looks like a grand black pillar set up as a monument in this noble shaft a colony of large jet black ants have established themselves laboriously cutting tunnels and sails through the wood with a sound or decayed the entire trunk seems to have been honeycombed judging by the size of the talus of Nord chips like sawdust pile up around its base they are more intelligent looking than their small belligerent strong scented brethren and have better manners though quick to fight when required their towns are carved in fallen trunks as well as in those left standing but never in sound living trees or on the ground when you happen to sit down to rest or take notes near a colony some wandering hunter is sure to find you and come cautiously forward to discover the nature of the intruder and what all to be done if you are not too near the town and keep perfectly still he may run across your feet a few times over your legs and hands and face up your trousers as if taking your measure and getting comprehensive views then go in peace without raising an alarm if however a tempting spot is offered or some suspicious movement excites him a bite follows and such a bite I fancy that a bear or wolf bite is not to be compared with it a quick electric flame of pain flashes along the outraged nerves and you discover for the first time how great is the capacity for sensation you are possessed of a shriek a grab for the animal and a bewildered stare follow this bite of bites as one comes back to consciousness from sudden eclipse fortunately if careful one need not be bitten often then once or twice in a lifetime this wonderful electric species is about three fourths of an inch long bears are fond of them and tear and gnaw their homelogs to pieces and roughly devour the eggs, larvae, parent ants and the rotten or sound wood of the cells all in one spicy acid hash the digger Indians are also fond of the larvae and even of the perfect ants so I have been told by old mountaineers they bite off and reject the head and eat the tickly acid body with keen relish thus are the poor biters bitten like every other biter big or little in the world's great family there is also a fine active intelligent looking red species intermediate in size between the above they dwell in the ground and build large piles of seed husks leaves straw etc over their nests their food seems to be mostly insects and plant leaves seeds and sap how many males nature has to fill how many neighbors we have how little we know about them and how seldom we get in each other's way then to think of the infinite number of smaller fellow mortals invisibly small compared with which the smallest ants are as mastodons June 14 the pool basins below the falls and cascades hereabouts formed by the heavy down plunging currents are kept nicely clean and clear of detritus the heavier parts of the material swept over the falls are heaped up a short distance in front of the basins in the form of a dam thus tending together with erosion to reduce their size sudden changes however are affected during the spring floods when the snow is melting and the upper tributaries are roaring loud from bank to bray then boulders that have fallen into the channels and which the ordinary summer and winter currents were unable to move are suddenly swept forward as by a mighty bosom hurled over the falls into these pools and piled up in a new dam at the start of the old one while some of the smaller boulders are carried further downstream and variously lodged according to size and shape all seeking rest where the force of the current is less than the resistance they are able to offer but the greatest changes made in these relations of fall pool and dam are caused not by the ordinary spring floods but by extraordinary ones that occur at irregular intervals the testimony of trees growing on flood boulder deposits shows that a century or more has passed since the last master flood came to awaken everything movable to go swirling and dancing on wonderful journeys these floods may occur during the summer when heavy thundershowers called cloud bursts fall on wide steeply inclined stream basins furrowed by converging channels which suddenly gather the waters together into the main trunk in booming torrents of enormous transporting power though short lived one of these ancient flood boulders stands firm in the middle of the stream channel just below the lower edge of the pool dam at the foot of the fall nearest our camp it is a nearly cubicle mass of granite about 8 feet high plushed with mosses over the top and down the sides to ordinary high watermark when I climbed on top of it today and laid down to rest it seemed the most romantic spot I had yet found the one big stone with its mossy level top and smooth sides standing square and firm and solitary like an altar the fall in front of it bathing it lightly with the finest of the spray just enough to keep its moss cover fresh the clear green pool beneath with its foam bells and its half circle of lilies leaning forward like a band of admirers and flowering dogwood and all the trees leaning over all in sun shifted arches how soothingly refreshingly cool it is beneath that leafy translucent ceiling and how delightful the water music the deep base tones of the fall the clashing ringing spray an infinite variety of small low tones of the current gliding past the side of the bolder island and glinting against a thousand smaller stones down the ferny channel all this shut in every one of these influences acting at short range as if in a quiet room the place seemed holy where one might hope to see God after dark when the camp was at rest I groped my way back to the altar boulder and passed the night on it above the water beneath the leaves and stars everything still more impressive than by day the fall seemed dimly white singing nature's old love song with solemn enthusiasm while the stars peering through the leaf roof seemed to join in the white water's song precious night precious day to abide in me forever thanks be to God for this immortal gift June 15 another reviving morning down the long mountain slopes the sunbeams pour gilding the awakening pines cheering every needle filling every living thing with joy robins are singing in the older homes the same old song with his cheered and sweetened countless seasons over all of our blessed continent in this mountain hollow he seems as much at home as in Farmer's orchards Bullock's Oriole and the Louisiana Tanninger are here also with many warblers and other little mountain troubadours most of them now busy about their nests discovered another magnificent specimen of the cup oak 6 feet in diameter a Douglas spruce 7 feet and a twining lily with stem 8 feet long and 60 rose coloured flowers sugar pine cones are cylindrical slightly tapered at the end and rounded at the base found one today nearly 24 inches long and 6 in diameter the scales being open another specimen 19 inches long the average length of full grown cones on trees favourably situated is nearly 18 inches on the lower edge of the belt at the height of about 2500 feet above the sea they are smaller say a foot to 15 inches long and at a height of 7000 feet or more near the upper limits of its growth in the Yosemite region they are about the same size this noble tree is an inexhaustible study and source of pleasure I never weary of gazing at its grand tassel cones its perfectly round bowl 100 feet or more without a limb the fine purplish colour of its bark and its magnificent out sweeping down curving feathery arms forming a crown always bold and striking exhilarating in habit and general port it looks somewhat like a palm but no palm that I have yet seen display such majesty of form and behaviour either when poised silent and thoughtful in sunshine or wide awake waving in storm winds with every needle quivering when young it is very straight and regular in form like most other conifers after 52 100 years it begins to acquire individuality so that no two are alike in their prime or old age every tree calls for special admiration I have been making many sketches and regret that I cannot draw every needle it is said to reach a height of 300 feet though the tallest I have measured fall short of this stature the diameter of the largest near the ground is about 10 feet though I have heard of some 12 feet thick or even 15 the diameter is held to a great height the taper being almost imperceptibly gradual its companion the yellow pine is almost as large the long silvery foliage of the younger specimens forms magnificent cylindrical brushes on the top shoots and the ends of the upterm branches and when the wind sways the needles all one way at a certain angle every tree becomes a tower of white quivering sunfire well may this shining species be called the silver pine the needles are sometimes more than a foot long almost as long as those of the longleaf pine of Florida but though in size the yellow pine almost equals the sugar pine and in rugged, enduring strength seems to surpass it it is far less marked in general habit and expression with its regular conventional spire and its comparatively small cones clustered stiffly among the needles were there no sugar pine then would this be the king of the world's 80 or 90 species the brightest of the bright, waving, worshipping multitude were there mere mechanical sculptures what noble objects they would still be how much more throbbing, thrilling overflowing full of life in every fiber and cell grand glowing silver rods the very gods of the plant kingdom living their sublime century lives in sight of heaven watched and loved and admired from generation to generation and how many other radiant, resiny sun trees are here and higher up Lippe sedrus Douglas spruce Silver fur Sequoia how rich are inheritance in these blessed mountains the tree pastures into which our eyes are turned now comes the sundown the west is all a glory of color transfiguring everything far up the pilot peak ridge the radiant host of trees stand hushed and thoughtful receiving the sun's good night as solemn and impressive a leaf taking as if sun and trees were to meet no more the daylight fades the color spell is broken and the forest breathes free in the night breeze beneath the stars End of section 3 Section 4 of My First Summer in the Sierra This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir Read by Adrian Pretzelis June 16 One of the Indians from Brown's flat got right into the middle of the camp this morning, unobserved I was seated on a stone looking over my notes and sketches and happened to look up was startled to see him standing grim and silent within a few steps of me as motionless and weather-stained as an old tree stump that had stood there for centuries All Indians seem to have learned this wonderful way of walking unseen making themselves invisible like certain spiders observing here which, in case of alarm caused, for example, by a bird alighting on the bush their webs are spread upon immediately bounce themselves up and down on their elastic threads so rapidly that only a blur is visible The wild Indian power of escaping observation even where there is little or no cover to hide in was probably slowly acquired in hard hunting and fighting lessons while trying to approach game take enemies by surprise or get safely away when compelled to retreat and this experience transmitted through many generations seems to at length to have become what is vaguely called instinct how smooth and changeless seems the surface of the mountains about us scarce a track is to be found beyond the range of the sheep except on small open spots in the mountains of the streams are where the forest carpets are thin or wanting on the smoothest of these open strips and patches deer tracks may be seen and the great suggestive footprints of bears which with those of many small animals are scarce enough to answer as a kind of light ornamental stitching or embroidery along the main ridges and larger branches of the river may be traced but they are not nearly as distinct as one would expect to find them how many centuries Indians have roamed these woods nobody knows probably a great many extending far beyond the time that Columbus touched our shores and it seems strange that heavier marks have not been made Indians walked softly and heard the landscape hardly more than the birds and squirrels and their brush and bark last hardly longer than those of the wood rats while their more enduring monuments accepting those wrought on the forest by the fires they made to improve their hunting grounds vanished in a few centuries how different are most of those of the white man especially in the lower gold region roads blasted in the solid rock wild streams dammed and tamed and turned out of their channels and led along the sides of canyons and valleys to work in mines like slaves crossing from ridge to ridge high in the air on low straddling trestles as if flowing on stilts or down and up across valleys and hills imprisoned in iron pipes to strike and wash away hills and miles of the skin of the mountain's face riddling, stripping every gold gully and flat these are the white man's marks made in a few feverish years to say nothing of mills fields, villages scattered hundreds of miles along the flank of the range long will it be ere these marks are effaced though nature is doing what she can replanting, gardening sweeping away old dams and flumes levelling gravel and boulder piles patiently trying to heal every raw scar the main gold storm is over calm enough for the grey old miners scratching a bear living in waste-diggings here and there thundering underground blasting is still going on to feed the pounding quartz mills but their influence on the landscape is light compared with that of the pick and shovel storms waged a few years ago fortunately for Sierra scenery gold-bearing slates are mostly restricted to the foothills the region about our camp is still wild and higher lies the snow about as trackless as the sky only a few hills and domes of cloudland were built yesterday and none at all today the light is peculiarly white and thin though pleasantly warm the serenity of this mountain weather in the spring nature's pulses are beating highest is one of its greatest charms there is only a moderate breeze from the summits of the range at night and a slight breathing from the sea and the lowland hills and plains during the day or stillness so complete no leaf stirs the trees hereabouts have but little wind history to tell sheep, like people ungovernable when hungry accepting my guarded lily gardens almost every leaf that these hoofed locusts can reach within a radius of a mile or two from camp has been devoured even the bushes are stripped bare and in spite of dogs and shepherds the sheep scatter to all points of the compass and vanish in dust I fear some are lost for one of the sixteen black ones missing June 17 counted the wool bundles this morning as they bounced through the narrow corral gate about three hundred are missing and as the shepherd could not go seek them I had to go I tied a crusted bread to my belt and with Carlo set out for the upper slopes of the pilot peak ridge and had a good day not withstanding the care of seeking the silly runaways I went out for wool and did not come back shorn a peculiar light circled around the horizon white and thin like that often seen over the auroral corona blending into the blue of the upper sky the only clouds were a few faint flossy pencilings like combed silk I pushed it direct to the boundary of the usual range of the flock and around it until I found the outgoing trail of the wanderers it led far up the ridge into an open place surrounded by a hedge-like growth of seanothus chaparral Carlo knew what I was about and eagerly followed the scent until we came up to them huddled in a timid, silent bunch they had evidently been there all night and all the forenoon afraid to go out to feed having escaped restraint they were, like some people we know of afraid of their freedom did not know what to do with it and seemed glad to get back into the old familiar bondage June 18 another inspiring morning nothing better in any world can be conceived no description of heaven that I have ever heard or read of seems half so fine at noon the clouds occupied about .05 of the sky white, filmy touches drawn delicately on the azure the high ridges and hilltops beyond the woolly locusts are now gay with Monderella, Clarkea, Choreopsis and tall, tufted grasses some of them tall enough to wave like pines the lupins of which there are many ill-defined species are now mostly out of flower and many of the composite are beginning to fade their radiant corollas vanishing in fluffy pappas like stars in mist we had another visitor from Brown's flat today an old Indian woman with a basket on her back like our first caller from the village she got fairly into camp and was standing in plain view when discovered how long she had been quietly looking on I must say even the dogs failed to notice her stealthy approach she was on her way I suppose to some wild garden probably for lupin and starchy saxophrage leaves and rootstocks her dress was calico rags far from clean in every way she seemed sadly unlike nature's neat well-dressed animals though living like them on the bounty of the wilderness strange that mankind alone is dirty had she been clad in fur or cloth woven of grass or shreddy bark like the juniper and libasedrus mats she might then have seemed a rightful part of the wilderness like a good wolf at least or a bear but from no point of view that I have found are such debased fellow beings are wit more natural than the glaring tailored tourists we saw that frightened the birds and squirrels June 19 pure sunshine all day how beautiful a rock is made by leaf shadows those of the live oak are particularly clear and distinct and beyond all art in grace and delicacy now still as if painted on stone now gliding softly as if afraid of noise now dancing in soft merry swirls or jumping on and off sunny rocks in quick dashes like wave embroidery on seashore cliffs how true and substantial is this shadow beauty and with what sublime extravagance is beauty thus multiplied the big orange lilies are now arrayed in all their glory of leaf and flower noble plants in perfect health nature's darlings June 20 some of the silly sheep got caught fast in a tangle of chaparral this morning like flies in a spider's web and had to be helped out Carlo found them and tried to drive them from the trap by the easiest way how far above sheep are intelligent dogs no friend and helper can be more affectionate and constant than Carlo the noble saint Bernard is an honour to his race the air is distinctly fragrant with balsam and resin and mint every breath of it a gift we may well thank god for who could ever guess that so rough a wilderness should yet be so fine so full of good things one seems to be in a majestic dome pavilion in which a grand play is being acted with scenery and music and incense all the furniture and action so interesting we are in no danger of being called to endure one dull moment God himself seems to be always doing his best here working like a man in a glow of enthusiasm June 21 sauntered along the river bank to my lily gardens the perfection of beauty in these lilies of the wilderness is a never ending source of admiration and wonder their rhizomes are set in black mould accumulated in hollows of the metamorphic slates beside the pools where they are well watered without being subjected to flat action every leaf in the level worlds the tall polished stalks is as fine finished as the petals and the light and heat required are measured for them and tempered in passing through the branches of over-leaning trees however strong the winds from the noon rainstorms they are securely sheltered beautiful hipnum carpets bordered with ferns are spread beneath them violets too and a few daisies looking around them sweet and fresh like themselves cloudland today is only a solitary white mountain but it is so enriched with sunshine and shade the tones of colour on its big domed head and bossy out bulging ridges and in the hollows and ravines between them are indefinably fine June 22 unusually cloudy beside the periodical shower bearing cumuli there is a thin diffused fog-like cloud overhead about 0.75 in all June 23 June 23 oh these vast calm, measureless mountain days inciting at once to work and rest days in whose light everything seems equally divine 1,000 windows to show us God nevermore however weary should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day whatever his fate long life short life stormy or calm he is rich forever June 24 our regular allowance of clouds and thunder Shepard Billy is in a thick of trouble about the sheep he declares that they are possessed with more of the evil one that any other flock from the beginning of the invention of mutton and wool to the last batch of it no matter how many are missing he will not he says go a step to seek them because as he reasons while getting back one wanderer he would probably lose ten therefore runaway hunting Carlos and Mayan Billy's little dog Jack is also giving trouble by leaving camp every night to visit his neighbors up the mountain at Brown's flat he is a common looking cur of no particular breed but tremendously enterprising in love and war he has cut all the ropes and leather straps he has been tied with until his master in desperation after climbing the brushy mountain again and again to drag him back fastened him with a pole attached to his collar under his chin at one end and to a stout sapling at the other but the pole gave good leverage and by constant twisting during the night the fastening of the sapling in was chafed off and he set out on his usual journey dragging the pole through the brush and reached the Indian settlement in safety his master followed and making no allowance gave him a beating and swore in bad terms that next evening he would fix that infatuated pup by anchoring him unmercifully to the heavy cast iron lid of our Dutch oven weighing about as much as the dog it was linked directly to his collar close up under the chin so that the poor fellow seemed unable to stir he stood quite discouraged until after dark unable to look about him or even to lie down unless he stretched himself out with his front feet across the lid and his head close down between his paws before morning however Jack was heard far up on the height howling excelsior cast iron anchor to the contrary not withstanding he must have walked or rather climbed erect on his hind legs clasping the heavy lid like a shield against his breast a formidable iron clad condition in which to meet his rivals next night dog, pot lid and all were tied up in an old bean sack and thus at last angry Billy gained the victory just before leaving home Jack was bitten in the lower jaw by a rattlesnake and for a week or so his head and neck was swollen to more than double the normal size nevertheless he ran about as brisk and lively as ever and is now completely recovered the only treatment he got was fresh milk a gallon or two at a time forcibly poured down his sore poison throat June 25 though only a sheep camp this grand mountain hollow is home sweet home everyday growing sweeter and I shall be sorry to leave it the lily gardens are safe as yet from the trampling flock poor, dusty, raggedy famishing creatures I heartily pity them many a mile they must go everyday to gather their 15 or 20 tons of chaparral and grass June 26 Nuttall's flowering dogwood makes a fine show when in bloom the whole tree is then snowy white the involucres are 6 to 8 inches wide along the streams it is a good size tree 30 to 50 feet high with a broad head when not crowded by companions it's showy involucres attract a crowd of moths butterflies and other winged people about it for their own and I suppose the tree's advantage it likes plenty of cool water and is a great feature like the older willow and cottonwood and flourishes best on stream banks though it often wanders far from streams in damp shady glens beneath the pines where it is much smaller when the leaves ripen in the fall they become more beautiful than the flowers displaying charming tones of red, purple and lavender another species grows in abundance as a chaparral scrub on the shady sides of the hill probably cornacessilis the leaves are eaten by the sheep heard a few lightning strokes in the distance with rumbling mumbling reverberations June 26 the beaked hazel coralus restrata variety californica is common on cool slopes up toward the summits of the pilot peak ridge there is something peculiarly attractive in the hazel like the oaks and the heaths of the cool countries of our forefathers and through them our love for these plants has I suppose been transmitted this species is four or five feet high leaves soft and hairy grateful to the touch and the delicious nuts are eagerly gathered by Indians and squirrels the sky as usual is adorned with white noon clouds June 28 warm mellow summer the glowing sunbeams make every nerve tingle the new needles of the pines and furs are nearly full grown and shine gloriously lizards are glinting about on the hot rocks some that live near the camp are more than half tame we are attentive to every movement on our part as if curious to simply look on without suspicion of harm turning their heads to look back and making a variety of pretty gestures gentle guileless creatures with beautiful eyes I should be sorry to leave them when we leave camp June 29 I have been making the acquaintance of a very interesting little bird that flits about the falls and rapids of the main branches of the river it is not a water bird in structure though it gets its living in the water and never leaves the streams it is not webfooted yet it dives fearlessly into deep swirling rapids evidently to feed at the bottom using its wings to swim with underwater just as ducks and loons do sometimes it wades about in shallow places thrusting its head under from time to time in a jerking nodding frisky way that is sure to attract attention it is about the size of a robin has short, crisp wings serviceable for flying either in water or air and a tale of moderate size slanted upwards giving it with its nodding bobbing manners a relish look its colour is plain bluish ash tinge of brown on the head and shoulders it flies from fall to fall rapid to rapid with a solid whir of wing beats like those of a quail follows the windings of the stream and usually a light on some rock jutting up out of the current or some stranded snag or rarely on the dry limb of an overhanging tree perching like regular tree birds when it suits its convenience it has the oddest daintiest mincing manners imaginable and the little fellow can sing too a sweet thrushy fluty song rather low not the least boisterous and much less keen and accentuated than from its vigorous briskness one would be led to look for what a romantic life this little bird leaves on the most beautiful portions of the streams in a genial climate with shade and cool water and spray to temper the summer heat no wonder it is a fine singer considering the stream songs it hears day and night every breath the little poet draws is part of the song for all the air about the rapids and falls is beaten into music and its first lessons must begin before it is born thrilling and quivering of the eggs in unison with the tones of the falls I have not yet found its nest but it must be near the streams for it never leaves them June 30 half cloudy half sunny clouds lustrous white the tall pines crowded along the top of the pilot peak ridge look like six inch miniatures exquisitely outlined on the satinny sky average cloudiness for the day about 0.25 no rain and so this memorable month ends a stream of beauty unmeasured no more to be sectioned off by almanac arithmetic than sun radiance or the currents of seas and rivers a peaceful joyful stream of beauty every morning arising from the death of sleep the happy plants and all our fellow animal creatures great and small and even the rocks seem to be shouting awake awake rejoice rejoice come love us and join in our song come come looking back through the stillness and romantic enchanting beauty and peace of the camp grove June seems the greatest of all the months of my life the most truly divinely free boundless like eternity immortal everything in it seems equally divine one smooth pure wild glow of heaven's law never to be blotted or blurred by anything past or to come end of section 4