Yosemite magnitudes seem to be as deceptive to geese as to men, for after circling to a considerable height and forming regular harrow-shaped ranks they would suddenly find themselves in danger of being dashed against the face of the cliff, much nearer the bottom than the top.

Then turning in confusion with loud screams they would try again and again until exhausted and compelled to descend.

I have occasionally observed large flocks on their travels crossing the summits of the Range at a height of 12,000 to 13,000 feet above the level of the sea, and even in so rare an atmosphere as this they seemed to be sustaining themselves without extra effort.

Strong, however, as they are of wind and wing, they cannot fly over Yosemite walls, starting from the bottom.
A pair of golden eagles have lived in the Valley ever since I first visited it, hunting all winter along the northern cliffs and down the river canyon.

Their nest is on a ledge of the cliff over which pours the Nevada Fall.