Photographed from nature by Walter K. Fisher]
Nevertheless, the storing of the Crows at this altitude was certainly much less systematic than that of the Jays. The Jays' movements were easy to follow, for they were concerted and regular. The Inn was on a ridge between two cañons, and commanded the birds' pathway. A band would come up from under the cliff at the top of the western cañon, cross over the ridge, and drop down into the eastern cañon, where they would fly over the tops of the firs till they disappeared from sight. They would be gone some little time, and then return empty-handed to repeat the performance.
The Jays talked a good deal in going back and forth, and their notes were pleasantly varied. One call was remarkably like the chirp of a Robin. Another of the commonest was a weak and rather complaining cry, repeated several times; and a sharply contrasting one was a pure, clear whistle of one note followed by a three-syllabled call, something like _ka-wé-ah_. The regular rallying cry was still different, a loud and striking two-syllabled _ka-wheé_. The notes of Clark's Crow often suggested the rattling of the Red-headed Woodpecker. The bird had a variety of _kerring_, throaty notes, and when disturbed, as at the unexpected sight of me at its dining-room, gave a loud, warning _quarr_. Besides these Woodpecker-like calls, it had a squawking cry similar to that of Steller's Jay.
The voices of the birds were often heard from the house as they got water from the hydrant in front of the Inn, the Jays frequently stopping on the way back from their cañon storehouse. Sometimes three Jays would suddenly appear overhead, drop noiselessly to the pool under the hydrant, and squatting close together fill their bills and then raise their heads to swallow. Though the Jays usually went to the pool for water, they would sometimes light on the hydrant and, leaning over, drink from the faucet, which Mrs. Langille always left dripping for their benefit. The Clark's Crows, so far as I noticed, always drank right from the faucet.
Photographed from nature by Walter K. Fisher]
It was hard to get photographs of the birds at the hydrant, as they stopped only in passing, but as it was impossible to take them under the cliff on account of the poor light, I determined to bait them. Finding a number of the Nutcrackers in front of the kitchen window, I asked the Chinaman for some meat for them, holding up my Kodak to explain that I wanted to take the birds' pictures. To my surprise, the man promptly and decidedly shook his head! I didn't know what to make of such apparent rudeness at first, but it finally dawned on me that he could not understand English and, not being an ornithologist, from past experience with tourist cameras concluded that I wanted _his_ picture! Accordingly, nothing daunted, I appealed to Mrs. Langille, and when she gave me a plate of suet, returned to take the Crows. They flew at my approach, but quickly settled back and fairly fell on the meat I put in the road for them. I got a snap of one with a big mouthful. After taking all the Nutcrackers I wanted, I went back to the hydrant to wait for the Jays, but the Crows followed and one fellow fairly gorged himself on the fat. He gulped it down so fast I had to drive him off in order to have either meat or films left for the Jays. It was hard to persuade him that I wanted him to leave. He had had no experience of such inhospitality. Mild shooing did no good. I actually had to throw small stones at him before he would take the hint! When he finally started to go, I got his picture as he turned and looked regretfully over his shoulder at the Jay he was leaving in possession of the field.