Here stood the great sycamore, with branches swaying; for the tree faced this break in the hills. It seemed as if the old monarch14, with roots firmly planted, had battled for its ground; and now, as a conqueror15, stood with arms uplifted to meet the ocean gales16. I had never before appreciated the dignity of those straight upreared shafts17, the vital strength of those deep grappling roots, the mighty18 grandeur19 of this old battle king.
When one of the trunks fell, I had to hunt the sycamore over to find where it came from, not missing it in the massive framework that was left. The giant measured twenty-three feet and a half in circumference20, three feet from the ground. Its enormous branches stretched out horizontally so far that, between the body of the tree and the tips that hung to the earth, there was a wide corridor where one could promenade21 on horseback. In fact, the tree spanned, from the tip of one branch to the tip of the other, one hundred and fifty-eight feet. In the photograph, the figure of a person is almost lost in the complicated network of the frame of the tree. The treetop was a grove22 in itself. A flock of blackbirds[114] flying up into it was lost among the branches.
THE BIG SYCAMORE THE BIG SYCAMORE
The ranchman knew the sycamore as the 'swallow tree,' because in former years, before the valley was settled, swallows that have since taken to barns built there. Between three and four hundred of them plastered their nests on the underside of the big limbs, about half way up the tree, where the bark was rough. They built so close together that the nests made a solid mass of mud. For several seasons, it was said, "they had bad luck." They began building before the rainy season was over, and all but a few dozen nests which were in especially protected places were swept away. The number of nests was so enormous that the ground was covered several inches deep with mud.
Billy used to improve his time by nibbling23 barley24 while I watched birds in the sycamore corridor. We had not been there long before I discovered a bee's nest in the hollow of one of the trunks. The owners were busily flying in and out, and a pair of big bee-birds flew down from their nest in the treetop and saved themselves trouble by lunching at this convenient ground floor restaurant. As I sat on Billy, facing the nest, one of the pair swept down over the mouth of the hole, caught a bee and settled back on the branch to swallow it. This seemed to be the regular performance, and was kept up so[115] continuously, even when we were standing25 close by, that if, as is supposed, the birds eat only drones, few but workers would be left in that hive.
The flycatchers seemed well suited to the sycamore; they were birds of large ideas and sweeping26 flights. Their nest was at the top of the tree; probably eighty feet from the ground, but when one of them flew down, instead of coming a branch at a time, he would set his wings and, giving a loud cry,—as a child shouts when pushing off his sled at the top of a steep hill,—he would sail obliquely27 down from the treetop to the foot of the hillside beyond. When looking for his material he would hover28 over the field like a ph?be. Then, on returning, unlike the other birds who lived in the tree and used the branches as ladders, he would start from the ground and with labored29 flights climb obliquely up the air to the treetop. Once his material dangled30 a foot behind him. The birds seemed to enjoy these great flights.
Their nest was not finished, and while one went for material, the other—presumably the male—guarded the nest. As there was nothing to guard as yet, it often seemed a matter of venting31 his own spleen! When not occupied in arranging his plumes32, he would shoot down at every small bird that came upstairs; a cowardly proceeding33, but perhaps he thought it necessary[116] to keep his hand in against meeting bigger boys than he! When coming with material, one of the bee-birds got caught in a heavy rope of cobweb that dangled from the nest, and had to flutter hard to extricate34 itself. About their nests these birds seemed as home-loving as any others. Their domesticity quite surprised me; they had always seemed such harsh, scolding, aggressive birds! When one of them sat among the green leaves, pluming35 the soft sulphur yellow feathers of its breast, it looked so gentle and attractive that it was a shock when the familiar petulant36 screams again jarred the air. The birds often hunted from the fence beyond the sycamore, and flew from post to post with legs dangling37, shaking their wings as they lit, with a shrill38 kit39' r' r' r' r'.
The sycamore was a regular apartment house; so many birds were moving among the boughs40 it was impossible to tell where they all lived. One day I found a pair of doves sitting on a sunny branch above me. The one I took to be the male sat perched crosswise, while his mate sat facing him, lengthwise of the limb. He calmly fluffed out his feathers and preened41 himself, while his meek42 spouse43 watched him. She fluttered her wings, teasing him to feed her, but he kept on dressing44 out his plumes. Then she edged a little closer, and almost essayed to touch his majesty45 with her pretty blue bill, but he sat with[117] lordly composure quite ignoring her existence till a blackbird bustled46 up, when they both started nervously47, and turning, sat demurely48 side by side on the limb, the wind tilting49 their long tails.
A pair of bright orange orioles had a nest in the sycamore, though I never should have known it had I not seen them go to it to feed their young. It was a well shaded cradle surely, with its canopy50 of big green leaves.
There were a good many hints to be had, first and last. A song sparrow appeared and stood on a branch with its tail perked51 up in a business-like way as if it had been feeding a brood. A wren52 came to the tree,—a mere53 pinch of feathers in the giant sycamore,—and though I lost sight of it, many a hollow up in the fourteenth story might have afforded a home for the pretty dear without any one's being the wiser, unless it were the bee-bird in the attic54. A family of bush-tits flew about in the sycamore top, looking like pin-heads in a grove of trees. A black ph?be sometimes lit on the fence posts under the branches—it wanted to find a nesting place about the windmill in the opposite field, I felt sure, though a boy had told me that the bird sometimes plastered its nest onto the branches of the big tree itself. Besides all the rest, rosy55 linnets and blue lazuli buntings made the old tree ring with their musical roundelays.
One day when I rode down to the sycamore,[118] the meadow bordering it was full of haycocks, and a rabbit ran out from under one of them, frightened by the clatter56 of Billy's hoofs. That morning the tree was fairly alive with blackbirds and doves—what a deafening57 medley58 the blackbirds made! In the fields near the sycamore flocks of redwings went swinging over the tall gleaming mustard. This was a great place for blackbirds, for the big tree was on the edge of the one piece of marsh59 land in the valley, and they were quick to take advantage of its reeds for nesting places.
The cienaga—as they called the swamp—was used as a pasture. It was pleasant to look out upon, from under the branches of the great tree. A group of horses stood in the shade of a cluster of oaks on the farther side of it, while the cows, a beautiful herd60 of buff and white Guernseys, waded62 through the swamp grass to drink near the sycamore, and the blackbirds wound in and out among them. I had been in a dry land so long it was hard to believe there was actual water in the marsh till I saw it drip from their chins and heard the sucking sound as they laboriously63 dragged their feet out of the mud—a noise that took me back to eastern pastures, but sounded strangely unfamiliar64 here in this rainless land. One of the pretty Guernseys with a white star in her forehead strayed up under the tree, and the shadows of the leaves moved[119] over her as she raised her sensitive face to see who was there.
The son of the ranchman who owned the dairy—the one who invited me down to see the play between his dog Romulus and the burrowing65 owl—said that when herding66 cows by the sycamore he once caught sight of a coyote wolf. He clapped his hands to send his dog, Romulus, after the wolf; and the noise frightened the wild creature so that he started to run up the hill across the road from the sycamore. Romulus followed hard at his heels till they got well up the hillside, when the coyote felt that he was on his own ground and turned on the dog, who fled back to his master with his tail between his legs. The lad, clapping his hands, set the dog on the coyote again, and this animated67 but bloodless performance was repeated and kept up till both were tired out, the animals chasing each other back and forth68 from the sycamore to the hillside with as much energy and perhaps as much courage as was displayed by that historic king of France who had five thousand men and—
"... marched them up a hill and then
He marched them down again."
On one side of the sycamore was a great wall of weeds higher than my head when on horseback; a dense69 mass of yellow mustard, and fragrant70 wild celery which was covered with[120] delicate white bloom. I saw blackbirds carrying material into this thicket71, but as I had known of neighbors' horses getting bitten by rattlesnakes among the high weeds, did not think it worth while to wade61 around in it much for such common birds as they. But one day, seeing a pair of rare blue grosbeaks fly down into the tangle73, I turned Billy right in after them, though holding his head well up in consideration of the snakes. The birds vanished, so we stood still to wait. Suddenly I heard a slight sound as of something slipping through the weeds at Billy's feet, and looking down saw a snake marked like a rattler; and as it slid by Billy's hoof8 I noticed with horror that the end of its tail was blunt—the harmless gopher snake that resembles the rattler has a tapering74 tail! I gazed at it spellbound, but in the dim light could not make out whether it had rattles72 or not. I had seen enough, however, and whipping up Billy was out of those weeds in a hurry. Safely outside, I looked at my little horse remorsefully—what if my desire to see a new nest had been the cause of his getting a rattlesnake bite!
The next day when I went down to the sycamore a German was mowing75 there with a pair of mules76. He was a typical Rhinelander, with blue eyes and long curling hair and beard, and as he drove he sang in a deep rich voice one of the beautiful melodies of his fatherland.[121] Screened by the branches, I listened quite unmindful of my work till my reverie was interrupted by the man's giving a harsh cry to his mules. It was only an aside, however, for he dropped back into his song in the same rich sympathetic voice.
In riding out from the tree on my way home, I saw that he was mowing just where the snake had been, and warned him to be careful lest the horses get bitten. At the word rattlesnake his blue eyes dilated77, and he assured me that he would be on his guard. Seeing my glasses and note-book, he asked if I were studying birds. When told that I was, from his seat on the mowing-machine he took off his hat and bowed with the air of a lord, saying in broken English, "I am pleased to meet you!"—a pleasant tribute to the profession. A few days later, on meeting him, he asked if I had found the rattlesnake—he had killed it under the sycamore and hung it on a branch for me to see.
As the memory of my morning rides down to the sycamore brings to mind the wonderful freshness of California's fog-cleared skies, so my sunset rides home from the great tree recall the peacefulness of the quiet valley at twilight78. One sunset stands out with peculiar distinctness. As Mountain Billy turned from the sycamore marsh its leaning blades gleamed in the evening light, and the sun warmed the sides of the line of buff[122] Guernseys wading79 in procession through the high swamp grass to their out-door milking stand. Beyond, a load of hay was crossing the meadows with sun on the reins and the pitchforks the men carried over their shoulders; and beyond, at the head of the valley, the western canyons80 were filled with golden haze81, while the last shafts of yellow light loitered over the apricot orchards below, where the tranquil82 birds were singing their evening songs. Slowly the long shadows of the mountain crept over orchard10 and vineyard until, finally, the sun rounded the last peak and left our little valley in darkness.
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1
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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notches
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| n.（边缘或表面上的）V型痕迹( notch的名词复数 )；刻痕；水平；等级 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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24
barley
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| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
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25
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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30
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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venting
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| 消除； 泄去； 排去； 通风 | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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pluming
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| 用羽毛装饰（plume的现在分词形式） | |
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petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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40
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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41
preened
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| v.（鸟）用嘴整理（羽毛）( preen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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44
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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45
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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46
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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47
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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48
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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49
tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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50
canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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51
perked
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| （使）活跃( perk的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）增值； 使更有趣 | |
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52
wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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53
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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54
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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55
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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56
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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57
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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medley
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| n.混合 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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64
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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65
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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66
herding
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| 中畜群 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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72
rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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73
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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74
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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75
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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76
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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77
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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80
canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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81
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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82
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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