one of the first things i did on getting settled on my ranch, the second time i was in california, was to get a wagon and go down to my eucalyptus grove for a load of the pale green aromatic boughs with which to trim my attic study; for their fragrance is delightful and their delicate blue-green tone lends itself readily to decorative purposes. when the supply needed replenishing, i rode down on mountain billy and carried home the sweet-smelling branches on the saddle.
the grove served a more utilitarian purpose, however. the eucalyptus is an australian tree, with narrow straight-hanging leaves, and its rapid growth makes it useful for firewood. a tree will grow forty feet in four years, and when cut off a few feet above the ground will spring up again and soon be ready to yield another crop. my grove had never been cut, but would soon be old enough. in the photograph of a eucalyptus avenue near los angeles, the row of trees on the right have been cut near the ground and the branching trunks are the consequence.[212]
eucalyptus avenue, showing pollarded trees on the right, near los angeles eucalyptus avenue, showing pollarded trees on the right, near los angeles
my eucalyptus or blue gum grove was down near the big sycamore, and opposite the bare knoll where romulus and the burrowing owls had their nightly battles. on one side of it was a rustling cornfield always pleasant to look at. after the bare yellow stubble and all the reds and browns of a california summer landscape, its rich dark green color and its stanch, strong stalks made it seem a very plain honest sort of field, and its greenness was most grateful to eyes unused to the bright colors and strong lights of california.
opposite the little grove, in a small house perched on a hill, an old sea-captain lived alone. as i rode by one day, he sat with his feet hanging over the edge of the high piazza, looking off; as if on the prow of his vessel, gazing out to sea. when i stopped to ask if he had seen anything noteworthy happen at the grove, he complained that it shut off his view and kept away the breeze from the ocean! i was too much taken by surprise to apologize for my trees, but felt reproached; unwittingly i had destroyed the old captain's choicest pleasure. he had spoken in an impersonal way that i quite understood,—he had been taken unawares,—but the next time i rode past, as if to make up for any apparent rudeness, he came hurrying down the walk to tell me of a crow's nest he had seen in the grove. to mark it he had[213] fastened a piece of paper to the wire fence by the road, and another paper to the nest tree, binding it on with a eucalyptus twig in true sailor fashion.
it was always a relief to leave the hot beating sun and the glare of the yellow fields and enter the cool shade of the quiet grove. i could let down the fence and put it up behind me; thus having my small forest all to myself; and used to enjoy riding up and down the fragrant blue avenues. the eucalyptus-trees, although thirty or forty feet high, were lithe and slender; some of them could be spanned by the hands. the rows were planted ten feet apart, but the long branches interlaced, so one had to be on the alert, in riding down the lines, to bend low on the saddle or push aside the branches that obstructed the way. the limbs were so slender and flexible that a touch was enough to bend back a green gate fifteen to twenty feet long, and billy often pushed a branch aside with his nose. in places, fallen trees barred our path, but billy used to step carefully over them.
the eucalyptus-trees change very curiously as they grow old. when young they are covered with branches low to the ground, and their aromatic tender leaves are light bluish green; afterwards they lose their lower branches, while their leaves become stiff and sickle-shaped, dull green and almost odorless. the same changes[214] are seen in the bark: first the trunks are smooth and green; then they are hung with shaggy shreds of bark; this in turn drops off so that the old trees are smooth again. some of the young shoots have almost white stems, and their leaves have a pinkish tinge. indeed, a young blue gum is as pretty a sight as one often sees; it is a tree of exquisite delicacy of coloring.
eucalyptus wood stored for market, in a eucalyptus grove near los angeles eucalyptus wood stored for market, in a eucalyptus grove near los angeles
mountain billy and i both liked to wander among the blue gums. billy liked it, perhaps, for association's sake, for we had ridden through the eucalyptus at his home in northern california. i too had pleasant memories of the northern gums, but my first interest was in finding out who lived in my little woods. a dog had once been seen driving a coyote wolf out of it, but that was merely in passing. i did not expect to meet wolves there. it was said, however, to be a good place for tarantulas, so at first i stepped over the dead leaf carpet with great caution; but never seeing any of the big spiders, grew brave and sat indifferently right on the ground before the nests, or leaning up against the trees. the ground was almost as hard as a rock, for the eucalyptus absorbed all the moisture, and that may have had something to do with its freedom from snakes and scorpions, though it would not explain the absence of caterpillars and spiders, which just then were so common outside. though in the[215] grove a great deal, i never ran into but one cobweb, and was conscious of the pleasant freedom from falling caterpillars. moreover, i never saw a lizard in the blue gums, though dozens of them were to be seen about the oaks and in the brush.
it was a surprise to find so many feathered folks living in the eucalyptus, and i took a personal interest in each one of the inhabitants. the first time we started to go up and down the avenues we scared up a pair of turtle doves, beautiful, delicately tinted gentle creatures, fit tenants of the lovely grove. they did not know my friendly interest in them, and flew to the ground trailing and trying to decoy me away in such a marked manner that when we passed a young dove a few yards farther on, it was easy to put two and two together.
yellow-birds called cheet'-tee, ca-cheet'-ta-tee, and the grove became musical with the sweet calls of the young brood. there was one nest with a roof of shaggy bark, and i wondered if the birds thought it would be pleasant to live under a roof, or whether the bark had fallen down on them after they built. i could get no trace of the owners of the nest, and it troubled me, not liking to have any little homes in my wood that i did not know all about. as we went down one aisle, a big bird went blundering out ahead of us, probably an owl, for afterwards we[216] stumbled on a skeleton and feathers of one of the family.
in one of the trees we came to an enormous nest made of the unusual materials that are sometimes chosen by that strange bird, the road-runner. it was an exciting discovery, for that was before the road-runner had come to the ranch-house, and i had been pursuing phantom runners over the hills in the vain attempt to learn something about them; while here, it seemed, one had been living under my very vine and fig-tree! to make sure about the nest, i spoke to my neighbor ranchman, and he told me that when he had been milking during the spring he had often seen the birds come out of the blue gums, and had also seen them perching there on the trees. how exasperating! if i had only come earlier! now they had gone, and my chance of a nest study was lost.
but my doll was not stuffed with sawdust, for all of that. there was still much to enjoy, for a mourning dove flew from her nest of twigs almost over billy's head, and it made me quite happy to know that the gentle bird was brooding her eggs in my woods. then it was delightful to see a lazuli bunting on her nest down another aisle. it seemed odd, for there was her little cousin nesting out in the weeds in the bright sun, while she was raising her brood in the shady forest. the two nests were as unlike as the sites. the[217] bird outside had used dull green weeds, while this one used beautiful shining oak stems. i thought the pretty bird would surely be safe here, but one day when i called, expecting to see a growing family, i was shocked to find a pathetic little skeleton in the nest.
one afternoon in riding down the rows, i came face to face with two mites of hummingbirds seated on a branch. their grayish green suits toned in with the color of the blue gums. it was a surprise when one of them turned to the other and fed it—the mother hummer was small enough to be taken for a nestling! she sat beside her son and fed him in the conventional way, by plunging her bill down his open mouth. when she had flown off, he stretched his wings, whirred them as if for practice, and then moved his bill as if still tasting the dainty he had had for supper. he sat very unconcernedly on a low branch right out in the middle of the road, but billy did not run over him.
i found two hummers' nests in the eucalyptus during the summer. one builder was the one the photographer was fortunate enough to catch brooding; her nest, the one so charmingly placed on a light blue branch between two straight spreading leaves, like the knot between two bows of stiff ribbon.
the second nest was on a drooping branch, and, to make it stand level, was deepened on the down[218] side of the limb, making it the highest hummingbird's nest i had ever seen. it was attached to a red leaf—to mark the spot, perhaps—one often wonders how a bird can come back twice to the same leaf in a forest. how one little home does make a place habitable! from a bare silent woods it becomes a dwelling-place. everything seemed to centre around this little nest, then the only one in the grove; the tiny pinch of down became the most important thing in the woods. it was the castle which the trees surrounded.
when i first found the nest it held two white warm eggs about as large as peas, and i became much interested in watching their progress, often riding down to see how they were getting on. the hummer did not return my interest. she was nervous, darting off when billy shook himself or when the shadow of a soaring turkey buzzard fell over the nest; but in spite of that we made ourselves quite at home before her door. i would dismount and sit on the ground, leaning against a blue gum, while billy stood by, in a bower of green leaves, with ears pricked forward thoughtfully, and a dreamy look of satisfaction in his eyes. hummingbirds are such dainty things. once when this one alighted on the rim of her nest she whirred herself right down inside. soon she began to act so strangely for a brooding bird that, when she flew, i went to feel in the nest. the tips of my fingers touched what felt like[219] round balls, but, not satisfied, i pulled down the bough and found one round ball and one mite of a gray back with microscopic yellow hairs on each side of the spine. the whole tiny body seemed to throb with its heart beats. i wondered how such a midget could ever be fed, but found, as in the case of the hummer under the little lover's tree, that the mother gave its food most gently, reserving her violent pumping for a more suitable age; though one would as soon think of poking a needle down a baby's throat as that bill.
often, while watching the nest, my thoughts wandered away to the grove itself. the brown earth between the rows was barred by alternate lines of sunlight and shadow, and the vista of each avenue ended in blue sky. sometimes cool ocean breezes would penetrate the forest. the rows of trees, with their gently swaying, interlacing branches, cast moving shadows over the sun-touched leafy floor, giving a white light to the grove; for the undersides of the young eucalyptus leaves are like snow. from the stiff, sickle-shaped upper leaves the sun glanced, dazzling the eyes. mourning doves cooed, and the sweet notes of yellow-birds filled the sunny grove with suggestions of happiness. a yellow butterfly wandered down the blue aisles. such a secure retreat! i returned to it again and again, coming in out of the hot yellow world and closing behind me the doors of my 'rest-house,' for the little[220] wood had come to seem like a cool wayside chapel, a place of peace.
and when i finally left california, deserting mountain billy to return to the east, of all my haunts the one left the most unwillingly was the little blue gum grove, the peaceful wayside rest-house, in whose whitened shade we had spent so many quiet hours together.
