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 The Varied Thrush

Among the uncommon birds of the park, perhaps the varied thrush is entitled to a place. The varied thrush is similar to the robin in size and shape, but it has a breast that is colored a deep orange trimmed with a black band. The appearance of the band suggests the existence of a collar. The back of the bird is a sort of slate color.

The varied thrush loves the deep shade of the hemlock forest and also dense fog and rainy weather. When the heavy snow drives this bird from its favorite haunts, it migrates south as far as Costa Rica for the winter.

The varied thrush’s song has a clear flute-like tone sometimes characterized by a rather mournful sound. The sound is in keeping with the rather dismal choice of abode.

The time of breeding for the varied thrush is late may and since the nest is built within the deep gloom of a forest, visitors seldom find the nesting place. It is said that this bird sometimes builds it nest on top of the old nest. This practice is also commonly followed by the robin. The varied thrush is found largely along the Pacific Coast from Southern Oregon to Alaska and while it is typically a western resident it has been found occasionally in the New England states.

A variety of names has been given to this bird. The names as suggested are Alaska robin, Oregon robin, Mountain robin, but the true name is varied thrush (Ixoreus naevius).

This have I heard from old Tom Skelloc, the blind Klamath who knows no English and from Abraham Charles, who knows it well.

Many years ago an Indian stood on the brink of Gaywas, Crater Lake, and beneath him gaped an awful chasm; for Gaywas was without water. The depth was great, it was fearful. The bottom was rough and gnarled with huge masses, and there were mounds in the bottom of Gaywas.

The Indian grasped every bit of his courage, and descended into the monstrous cauldron. He traveled over the crags, and passed through fissures. There lay before him some yellow stuff which he did not comprehend.

At last he returned with much trepidation and toil. His story he told to but few, and from them it has come down the generations.

But the yellow stuff which he did not comprehend, was Gold.

This have I heard, I do not know whence it comes, nor what truth it may possibly hide.

THE BLUE ENIGMA

Blue enigma of ages, ringed with immutable rock,
Fiery cradle of mountains whose barren ridged mock
Man’s puny and ceaseless endeavor, his straining and pigmy strife;
Let him look on the patience of ages and know the end of life.
Mighty forge of the Titans where mountains were welded and made,
Glaciers have cooled your seething, hemlocks reared their shade,
And now you mirror your cradle, your mountain-making done,
And now your inscrutable depths reflect the dwelling of the sun.
Now men stand safe on your lava brink with awe intaken breath
Lost in the contemplation of a mighty mountains’ death.

 

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