On July 21st a small tray of eyed eggs of the Montana black-spotted trout from Yellowstone Lake were placed in the aquarium of the Park Naturalist's office. Within an hour tiny transparent heads and tails were breaking through the egg "shells" and tiny trout with egg attached were sinking to the bottom to absorb the remainder of the egg and start their hungry existence. Next week we hope to report additional progress on the trout nursery.
By F. W. Schmoe, Park Naturalist.
He followed her to school one day but it was not knowledge that Mary's little bear craved. He was hungry, but not for learning. He wanted something to eat and he didn't care what it was so long as it was good to eat.
"School" was a party of Summer School students from the University of Washington who were on a field trip in Mount Rainier National Park with Dean Henry Landes of the College of Science.
The party was climbing over Mazama Ridge in the direction of Reflection Lake with a Park Ranger as guide when it was noticed that a small brown bear was following along behind. When the party stopped bruin approached closer expecting a hand-out, but when no food was produced he became angry and slapped at one of the school teachers. Then the Ranger "spanked" him, so Mary's little bear ran away from school--and Mary did not go to bring him back!
By F. W. Schmoe--Park Naturalist.
The deep shady woods about Longmire are inhabited by a few birds that prefer this habitat. One of these in particular, the Western Winter Wren, the smallest of the wrens, is found widely distributed creeping about through the tangled underbrush and shrubs of the forest floor. This darkly colored brown Wren fits so closely into his environment that if it were not for his quick, nervous, wren-like habits of short flight which catches the eye of the traveller on these trails, he would not be noticed at all.
At this season of the year, however, this shy retiring bird fills the silence of the woods with his beautiful song. It is one of the finest songsters of the forest. The length of its song is greater than that of most of our birds. One can hardly believe that the song he hears comes from the tiny bird perched on top of a bush or snag, head erect, and pouring out of its tiny throat in jerky notes a song that dies down as though about to cease and then revives and continued with renewed vigor. Even on cloudy and rainy days we find this wren bringing gladness into the forest's dim depths.
By Charles Landes--Ranger Naturalist.
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