October 1931

YOSEMITE NATURE NOTES OCTOBER, 1931

Volume X Number 10

THE PUBLICATION OF THE YOSEMITE EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT AND THE YOSEMITE NATURAL HISTORY ASSOCIATION

Published Monthly Volume X October 1931 Number 10 Feeding Habits of the Woodpeckers in the Yosemite Valley By Enid Michael This is the first of a series of Notes which will consider all of the Yosemite Woodpeckers. Mrs. Michael writes from her original observations, and these records of interesting incidents are true contributions to Western ornithology.—C. A. H There are six resident species of trees, and he confines his activities woodpecker in the Yosemite valley mostly to the main trunk and the and five species of casual visitants. greater branches. Here in the valley All of these woodpeckers have he shows a decided preference somewhat familiar feeding habits-- for willows and cottonwoods, but that is to say that each species any dead tree that offers insect spends more or less time seeking food is likely to attract his attention. food on tree trunk or branch. And The Hairy is an active bird yet. having similar tastes and similar and in the course of a day's foraging hunting habits, in the struggle aging cover considerable territory for existence there is very little as he moves from tree to tree He competition between the different is not such a systematic worker species, as one species seldom encroaches as the White-headed woodpecker upon the hunting grounds and seldom does he spend much of another species Each species time in any one tree. of resident woodpecker has its own The Hairy woodpecker almost peculiar niche. never comes to the ground for food, The Modoc Hairy woodpecker nor have we ever seen him pluck (Dryobates villosus orius), a resident insects from the air, in the manner species, gleans his living almost of a fly-catcher In the willows entirely from the bark of and cottonwoods he drills and prods

in the rotten or decaying wood for under the bark, and it seems that insects and larvae. He pries and the Willow can detect infested hammers off bark and searches all twigs by sounding the bark with his interesting cavities. In the conifers bill. When he strikes a promising he is likely to work in the manner twig, he gets busy at once to uncover of a White-headed woodpecker, his prey. Striking sharp flaking off scales of bark, using blows with his bill, he cuts through his bill as a wedge, rather than as the bark, and then, bracing his feet a drill. In drilling, his touch is he takes a firm hold of the frayed lighter than that of either the California bark and strips down long strings, woodpecker or the Red- Perhaps he will expose several shafted Flicker, and the keen observer inches to a foot of sap-wood. The may often guess the identity larvae laid bare he consumes at before seeing the bird. once. This process is often continued WILLOW WOODPECKER until a willow branch several feet long may be entirely stripped (Dryobates pucescens turati) of bark. Naturally, these stripped The feeding habits of the Willow twigs must die, and for some years woodpecker are similar and yet different to follow, dead stalks, densely pitted from the habits of his large with tiny pockets, mark the cousin, the Hairy woodpecker. The site where once a Willow woodpecker Hairy feeds almost entirely on the enjoyed a banquet. trunks and larger branches, where A trick peculiar to the Willow he often swings about in the manner woodpecker in connection with his of a chickadee. The Willow drumming is his habit of choosing confines his foraging activities almost a branch to which a few dry leaves exclusively to the broad- still hang so that there may be a leafed trees, but on rare occasions rustling accompaniment to his song he may resort to young Incense if these rolling drum calls be his cedars, where, by scaling off the song, Because of his habit of loose outside bark in the manner working among the smaller of a White-headed woodpecker, he branches, the Willow woodpecker uncovers certain choice morsels in may often be identified by the the form of insect or larva. The sound of his bill beat. cottonwood and the Kellogg oak One season a pair of Willow furnish hunting ground for the Willow woodpeckers drilled out a nest-hole woodpecker, but the willow is in an old apple tree in the Lamon his favorite tree, and it is in the orchard. When the young came willow thickets that he is most along, the parent birds did much likely to be found. Like the Hairy foraging among the branches of woodpecker, however, he moves the apple trees where wooley aphids around a great deal, and one can and lady-bird beetles were abundant never be sure just where to find On another occasion a pair him, except during the nesting season of Willows brought their family to the Curry apple orchard. where. Encased under the tender bark among the twigs and branches, the of willow twigs is a form of larval young were taught to forage for life very attractive to the little themselves, woodpecker. These larvae occupy tiny pockets In the sap-wood just Late In the season, when the Red-breasted Sapsuckers come down

from above the "rim" to forage in the apple orchards of the valley, the Willow woodpeckers have been known to raid the sap-pits of these birds. Whether the Willows actually ate the sap or merely collected the insects gathered about the pits we were unable to determine. The Willow is one of the resident woodpeckers.

FEATHERED MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS

J. T. Emlen Jr. No, this is not a dissertation on the home life of the side-hill gouger as the title might lead one to think. The feathered mountain climbers are birds that have wandered up into the mountains above their normal range, and the particular ones of which I am going to speak are those which happened to fall under my observation last summer in my hikes around the park with the School of Field Natural History. It has often been observed that In the late summer many birds wander north of their breeding range before they are pushed south by the approach of winter. In the Yosemite, circumstances make these postseasonal migrations unusually attractive and easy for the birds. Instead of having to travel, some six hundred miles to get from one life zone to another, the bird merely has to climb 2000 feet. Under such circumstances, one would expect to occasionally find a mobile bird which has straggled out of its natural range into the mountains.

OUT OF HIS ELEMENT

Perhaps the most unusual of the record was one of a turkey vulture, observed on Mount Dana at an altitude of more than 10,000 feet by the entire class and several other competent observers on August 5. By all rights this bird had no excuse for being up above 4000 feet, and since the bird was not seen at close range, most of the party were extremely skeptical of its identity. Ranger-Naturalist Sharsmith no doubt thinks the record quite unworthy of mention, but if my reputation is worth staking, I am willing to stake it on it. The bird may have been flying in its sleep, but nevertheless there it was, with its characteristic soaring flight, small head and up-curved wings. In any case, we will have to leave this record to the discretion of anyone who wishes to be discreet. A second interesting record was made by Jack Frost and myself when we observed a Western meadowlark on the shores of Helen Lake at 8000 feet altitude on July 23. This bird should also have been down in the valley with the turkey vultures, but, like a great many birds, it had wandered up after its nesting duties were completed. Several other high-altitude records have been established by the meadowlark, the highest being 9700 feet near Ten Lakes in 1915. On July 19 Bell and I spotted an ash-throated flycatcher within a few hundred feet of the summit of Cloud's Rest; in other words, about 9700 feet above the sea. When it saw us it flew off and up into the air until it must have nearly reached the 10,000-foot contour. Three weeks later I saw another at Glen Aulin at 8100 feet. Even this is high for a bird intended to stay in the Sonoran zone.

Yosemite Indians Revive Old Customs C. C. PRESNALL, Junior Park Naturalist. Reviving old tribal customs after The meal was ground exactly as in nine years of disuse, the acorn the old days, using stone mortars dance was this year celebrated by and pestles made long before the the remnant of the Miwok Indian white man invaded Yosemite. Four tribe still living in Yosemite Valley. huge leaching basins were made of Ceremonies of thanksgiving for the clean sand and in them the finely bountiful acorn crop commenced on ground meal was leached with October 1 and lasted for four days water to remove the bitter tannin and nights, culminating in a grand On Sunday morning the cooking feast and dance on Sunday, Oct. 4. had been done so that by the time About fifty Indians participated in our old Indian friend had ceased the celebration, ' which was witnessed talking everything was in readiness by less than a dozen whites. for the dances which must precede The climax of the feast, which we the feast. witnessed on Sunday afternoon, was a picturesque sight. In an open BID TO THE FEAST space in the Indian village several squaws were completing the cooking of the acorn meal, using hot stones to heat the baskets of mush, A monotonous chant from the roundhouse announced the dances. Going inside we found the dancers. just as their ancestors did. Papooses men and women, kneeling in a circle chanting and keeping time with ran about underfoot, surreptitiously split sticks and cocoon rattles. Soon tasting the mush that adhered to this ceased and Lemee, the chief stones removed from the cooking dancer, arose to give the invitation baskets. On a nearby knoll the men of the village roasted steaks to the feast. In his own language he delivered a loud and dramatic over an open fire. As we sat among recital in which I was only able to them waiting for the dances to start one of the older squaws told of the distinguish the words "Miwok" preceding days of preparation. (people) and "oosoomatee" (grizzly bear) repeated several times. Occasionally he would throw acorn meal into the air, and all the while the For three days and nights the chanting continued. I learned later dancers had performed the acorn that he was talking to the spirits dance as a token of thanks to of his ancestors, inviting them to "Coyote-Man," an important deity come and join the feast, and that of Miwok Indian mythology. They the meal thrown into the air was were supposed to abstain from food for them to eat. during that time but, our informant After two more dances (or said scornfully, nodding towards the younger Indians, "Not all do it; some eat." During the third day 10 selected squaws ground the acorns cooked. All who expected to eat at for the feast—acorns from this the feast were then asked to join in year's crop which could not be eaten the dance, moving slowly around in until consecrated by the ceremonies. a large circle, with the dancers

chanting and shaking their rattles vigorously over the fires. We poor ignorant palefaces didn't know the chant, had no rattles, and couldn't understand what it was all about, but we at least managed a fair imitation of the slow, undulating, stamping gait of the Indians. To terminate the dance an old squaw spread acorn gruel four times around the fires, allowing it to burn so that it might be carried into the air in the four directions to be eaten by the spirits of the dead. In the old days no Miwok Indian dared eat of the new acorn crop until the spirits had been thus appeased.

NOT FOR THE PALEFACE

A meal of acorn bread cannot be thoroughly enjoyed by a white man until he has spent a long time becoming accustomed to this peculiar, flat-tasting, gelatinous substance. No salt or other condiment is added to the bread, but the meat eaten with it is usually very salty. The Indians gave us liberal servings of both the bread and the meat. The latter was delicious, but one taste of the bread was enough for most of us. It resembled an oily mixture of corn meal mush and blancmange minus the sugar and flavoring. Its food value is unquestionable, however, since it was the staff of life for all the Indian tribes that once inhabited the interior of California. After the feast more dances were given, lasting far into the night. These dances were chiefly expressions of thanks for the abundant acorn crop, and petitions for an equally large crop next year. There was a fire dance for the fire that heated the cooking stones; a stone dance for the stones that cooked the meal; and a basket dance for the baskets in which it was cooked. Then there were dances to the "First People," who made the world, and especially to "Coyote-Man," one of the most important of the "First People."

MAY BE THE LAST

At the close of the four-day ceremony we compared notes and found that we had all been so busy looking and listening that photography had been forgotten, hence this acorn dance which is quite probably the last one the Yosemite Miwoks will ever hold, will remain preserved only in our memories. Photographs would have been disappointing and inadequate, however, since none of the Indians wore costumes except Lemee, the chief dancer. The real spirit of the olden days could only have been preserved in a sound picture. Before many years the songs and chants will be forgotten just as the costumes are now replaced by overalls and aprons. A New Record for Yosemite (An excerpt from notes made by Ranger Naturalist Enid Michael on Sept. 5, 1931.)

While we were sitting, watching the warblers, up the valley came winging a most spectacular bird. A black and white bird of steady wing-beat, with a great long tail. With the striking color scheme and the long, floppy tail. no bird is more easily recognized— it was of course the magpie. The magpie came to perch not far from where we sat and we were able to identify it as belonging to the yellow-billed race. This was a new record, as neither the black-billed nor the yellow-billed magpie had ever before been reported from Yosemite Valley.

Four-Footed Mountaineer Ranger BILL MYERS Ranger-Naturalist Sharsmith was guiding a party to the summit of Mount Lyell this summer and had just succeeded in getting the entire group over the extremely rugged arete, or knife-edge, that is one way of getting from the glacier to the top of the mountain. For several hundred feet the naturalist had had to let down his Alpine rope which the less-experienced climbers used to aid themselves in getting over huge, slick, granite boulders and in ascending almost vertical chimneys When he had hoisted them all over the last difficult place, they sat down a moment to catch their breath and look over the scene below them. Five hundred feet below lay Lyell glacier, largest in the Yosemite region of the Sierra. Little streams of water running off the surface of the ice finally converged a couple of miles below to form the headwaters of the Lyell fork of the Tuolumne river. A mile farther on was timberline, 10,500 feet, where only gnarled and scrubby white bark pines could exist. Being so far removed from any appreciable amount of vegetation one would scarcely be on the lookout for animal life and, least of all, squirrels. Yet it was not a minute later that Sharsmith gave a shout and pointed excitedly at a little gray form dashing across a rock in front of the party. "Look—a Douglas squirrel!" One of the would-be mountainscalers who was still a bit shaky from his previous rope-work blinked unbelievingly. He looked at the squirrel, then down at the precipitous ridge he had just climbed. "Gosh! " he exclaimed, "how'd he get up here without a rope?" (Editor's Note--This observation was made at about 12,500 feet elevation, which is 1500 feet higher than the Douglas squirrel is usually found in Yosemite National Park.)

CALIFORNIA SPOTTED SKUNK

L. F. Hosbrook, 1931 Nature School In the September, 1931, issue of Yosemite Nature Notes is a vivid and interesting account of a family of spotted owls which were for a while this summer steady visitors to Fern Spring, near Pohono bridge. On the night of September 13, at

8 :45, Ranger - Naturalist Arthur press too closely the pursuit of our Stupka and the writer made a trip aromatic object, we returned to the to Fern Spring, hoping to catch a spring. On the water surface were glimpse of these interesting birds. a number of water striders. No When the flashlight beam was other animal life was visible. Judging thrown on the spring it revealed an from life habits of skunks, it is animal making a hasty withdrawal most probable that this animal was —not our much-looked-for owl, but not tempted to the spring by a a spotted skunk (Spilogale phenax drink of cold water, as were the phenax). It was traveling up the owls, but had been attracted by the slope and through the underbrush water striders and other insect food at a laborious and somewhat uncertain which is so often abundant near a pace. pool of fresh water. This spotted We followed in order to get a close view, but after obtaining only fleeting glimpses of the white tail spot as it persistently retreated, we lost track of it, and not wishing to press too closely the pursuit of our aromatic object, we returned to the spring. This spotted skunk is the first one to be reported in Yosemite Valley this year. They are quite scarce at this altitude, but are common in the lower foothills. A Battle for Life

RANGER-NATURALIST A. E. BORELL

While hiking with a party in Little Yosemite Valley late in July of this year we had the rare opportunity of watching a battle between a garter snake and a blue-bellied lizard. An 18-inch garter snake (Thamnophis) was fighting for food while a medium-sized lizard (Sceloporus occidentalis) was fighting for its life. A rustle in the leaves attracted our attention to a snake which had just seized a lizard by one hind leg. Both remained motionless beneath a manzanita bush for a few moments. Then the snake began to work its mouth up over the lizard's leg. The lizard also had a secure hold on the throat of the snake. They remained quiet for some moments, then we carefully picked the snake up by the tail and placed the two in the open trail. The snake soon released its hold, but the lizard did not. This presented an unusual sight, a small lizard holding a comparatively large snake securely by the side of the throat. Suddenly it released its hold and instantly raced full speed for the protection of the nearest thicket. The snake hesitated a few seconds, then crawled slowly away, undoubtedly feeling (if a snake has feeling) that it had made a very bad job of getting a meal for itself. Thus ended a struggle for existence between two forms of our wild life, the like of which we seldom have an opportunity to witness.

Activities of the Yosemite Naturalist Staff

C. A. HARWELL

Park Naturalist The Yosemite Museum and naturalist staff had the largest response of their history during the summer of 1931. It seems visitors to our national parks have formed a regular habit of inquiring about ranger-naturalist trips and lectures upon their arrival, because the response has been more unanimous this summer and the service more appreciated in Yosemite than ever before. A comparison of the 1930 and 1931 figures is of interest. During the summer of 1930 we conducted 21,523 people on our guided field trips and lectured to 218,281 people, a total of 239,804 people. During the same period in 1931 we guided 18,- 502 afield, lectured to 226,018, a total of 244,520, which shows quite a healthy increase in visitors contacted through this type service. There was a good increase in the number who visited our museum on the floor of the valley.

AT MARIPOSA GROVE

The new Mariposa Grove Museum proved a real attraction. It served exceptionally well as a headquarters for naturalist efforts in the trees. The smaller trailside exhibits, especially of wild flowers set up at Glacier Point outlook and Tuolumne Meadows ranger station, proved very useful. The addition of fresh exhibit material to our museum collections and especially the live Indian exhibits furnished by members of our local village of Indians were the main factors accounting for increased interest in our museum and the increased attendance. The following staff of naturalists and ranger-naturalists served for longer or shorter periods in carrying out this program during the summer : C. A. Harwell, park naturalist; C. C. Presnall, junior park naturalist; Mrs. Ruth Casaday, librarian; Alta Andersen, secretary, and the following rangernaturalists : Baylor Brooks, San Diego; J. F. Burgess, Manhattan Beach; A. E. Borell, Berkeley; C. C. Jensen, Berkeley; Enid Michael, Yosemite; C. H. Oneal, South Pasadena; H. E. Perry, Los Angeles; C. W. Sharsmith, Los Angeles; Lloyd Sweetman, Sacramento; J. C. Shirley, Berkeley; B. A. Thaxter, Portland, Oregon; Paul J. White, Long Beach.

DEER IN A CAVE

Ranger-Naturalist A. E. Borell It is easy to imagine bears, pumas, or skunks in caves even though we may never have seen one there, but a deer in a cave seems quite out of place. I was therefore somewhat surprised, as I walked along the bridle path below the old village, to see an adult doe bedded down in a large cave. A large rock which had fallen down over two smaller rocks formed a cave about eight feet wide and 10 feet deep. The opening was considerably smaller than the space within and the deer was lying with her head about six feet from the entrance. She was again seen in the same cave twice the following week, showing that this was her regular retreat when not foraging

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