In my travels I have never encountered an adult rattlesnake, though they are here, and rarely have I seen snakes of any kind, except the gopher snake.We hunted the fox in the splendid Santa Margarita Rancho that overlooks Elsinore, and wandered among the mountains that rise back of the fine old Missions of San Juan Capistrano and San Luis Rey.Houses and stables are built over mounds of bones and abalones, and here tons of stone implements have been dug up, and taken to the British and other museums in England and America.The stage road winds along the edge of the shore, gleaming sandy crescents succeeding one another in endless variety.He prefers to run in the open, to dodge behind hedges and trees.To the east lies the Colorado desert, its pallid yellow sands drifting into the distant haze.
It was Reynard, and in defiance of any Eastern or English code of fox ethics, he was in the tree-top very much at home, embowered with the grape, and under a canopy of light-green mistletoe.The so-called rainy season is now on, and if a normal one it should rain a day or two once in three or four weeks.Now it is among the pine needles, rising and falling, a harp of a thousand strings, the soul of melody in its cadence.In Florida the camp of a party of acquaintances was robbed by a cougar that took a pig, and though they watched all night the animal leaped into the pen and secured another pig, making off with the game amid a fusillade from the guns of a number of frightened negro servants.The long, feathery lines of white clouds which marked the time of rain had disappeared.As darkness grew apace, the young Mexican women took seats around the dancing-floor, and a violin and guitar began to pour forth the melodious strains of La Paloma.
I was jerked into the saddle in a miraculous manner, and we plunged down the hill.Here the lover of the picturesque may spend weeks without exhausting its beauty.Contrary to popular belief, the sailors of Columbus's day did not think they would sail right off the edge of the Earth. They were, however, apprehensive about what.Riding out on some of these points the cliffs for miles can be seen.It may be my imagination, but if there is not organisation of some kind among these birds, the imitation is perfect.You may see the long stretch of sands dotted with these monuments of patience, these advocates of philosophical reflection and the peaceful arts, who face the rich strong wind and salty spume, and are happy if they do not get a gudgeon.They are typical California ruins and, like wine, will increase in value as time rolls on.Black bass have also been placed in lakes and reservoirs in Los Angeles, Orange, and Santa Barbara counties.
Count Jaro Von Schmidt, President of the Balsa Chica Gun Club, and Mr.Again, the Barbarian of the Saints, as the young lady on the box seat calls our host, tells us that the hot, burning winds of Southern Europe are never known here, that this is the only true paradise, the real land of dolce far niente.Sometimes the water ran under leafy arcades where the fragrant bay quivered in the soft wind, then out into the open, above which the dark blue of the larkspur stood out in relief against the green of nodding brakes, then gliding down the face of some green slide where dainty maidenhair and other ferns trembled in the rush of air.Already I could see over the hills and look down into the San Gabriel Valley, while the back and distant peaks of the Sierras began to unfold and range into line.The early stages of this aberration, when the person had awareness of the deviance, was considered curable, and the shamans were always in attendance.
This is the bird that makes the best displays spring and fall along the Sierra Madre.Creek, in the San Bernardino mountains, are of great beauty and size, often chiselled out of the rocky and literal basins of stone, flanked by stupendous masses of rock, down which the clear waters splash and foam, pouring from one great pool into another on their way down the stupendous slope of the range.Here they are undermined, the talus partly covered by masses of wild oat whose surface ripples in catspaws in changing tints of green.In a short time a wonderful transformation comes over the face of nature.
The bighorns were killed on the north slope of San Antonio, about fifty miles from the city of Los Angeles, where the remnant of the herd still lives, protected by the game laws of the State.A school of these fishes swims into view, turning their gorgeous shapes upward and eying the strange window in which are mirrored many faces.The still angler occasionally varies his sport by going out upon the beach, and with a long rod and heavy sinker casting for surf-fish or other game.Wandering along the low region that receives the seepage of the hills you may see the spotted sandpiper, the black-bellied plover, and in the wet meadows, where the lush alfalfa stands, hear the flute-like cry of the killdeer with its ventriloquistic quality coming down the wind.
Get this from a library! Ripples from Medina Lake. [Cyril Matthew Kuehne].I have seen hundreds on the Hastings ranch, in the San Gabriel Valley, at such a time, and doubtless many such flocks could have been found far down the range.
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The nights are a little cooler, the wind has about died away, and for days flocks of geese and cranes have been seen flying south along the Sierra Madre.The committee at 10 A. M. met in the orange grove of the late Andrew McNally of Chicago, where they ate oranges, then picked roses, and idled in a wealth of flowers that made up the garden.I established relations with and consulted them as to the coming and going of the forest animals, and if word had been left me, the message could not have 51.The entire island is seen, a maze and jumble of peaks and ranges so high above the ocean that the ships below appear like chips floating on its surface.The available waters of Southern California lakes and streams are stocked yearly by the State Board of Fish Commissioners with rainbow, Eastern brook trout, 102.I am free to confess that I have never shot a mountain quail, as I always feel that I never could find a satisfying excuse for destroying so beautiful a creature.Then came the catch of Mr. S. M. Beard, of New York, who took several large fish with rod and reel, and finally that of Mr. F. V. Rider, 241.But suddenly the leaf, or what they thought was a leaf, stirs, unbends, and resolves itself 305.Before the green has left the lowlands, and when the land is still running riot with flowers, early in April, the quail, or valley partridge, begins to nest, and the period extends far into the summer.
It is not intended here to give an elaborate statement of the climatic conditions, but to present in as few words as possible the reasons for the various climatic phenomena that are so conspicuous in Southern California, and to answer some of the questions that are often propounded by visitors and sportsmen who are spending the season in the State.A second before, every eye was riveted on the picture that spread away hundreds of square 115.