The manner in which this great aggregation of animals came to a tragic end in that long-past age is exemplified in the way that birds and other small animals are still occasionally caught in the treacherous asphalt and there perish miserably, adding their bones to those of their unhappy predecessors.
The La Brea beds furnish one of the richest fields for paleontological research to be found anywhere in the world; and it may be said, that with her great Sequoias in the north, and her reservoir of pre-historic remains in the south, California stands as a link between a past age and the present.
The tarry deposit itself has its own place in history, for it appears that the first settlers of Los Ángeles were alive to the practical value of this supply of asphaltum lying ready to their hands, and used it in roofing their houses. Even the Indians, little as is the credit usually given them for skill in the arts and crafts, recognized the possibilities of this peculiar substance, and used it in calking their canoes.
The story of _Los Ojitos_ (literally “little eyes”), but here used in the sense of “little springs,” situated about two leagues from Santa Ana, indicates that the pleasures of social intercourse were not altogether lacking among the California Indians. In the diary of Miguel Costansó, of the date of their arrival at this place, he writes: “We found no water for the animals, but there was sufficient for the people in some little springs or small pools, in a narrow canyon close to a native village. The Indians of this village were holding a feast and dance, to which they had invited their relatives of the _Río de los Temblores_ (River of the Earthquakes, or Santa Ana).”—(Translation edited by Frederick J. Teggart.) During this time the travelers experienced a series of earthquakes lasting several days.
_Ojo de agua_ was commonly used by the Spaniards to mean a spring, but during the eighteenth century it was frequently used in America in the sense of a small stream of water rather than a spring.
On the day, Friday, July 28, 1769, of the arrival of the Portolá expedition at the stream now called the _Santa Ana_, which takes its rise in the San Bernardino Mountains, and empties into the ocean at a point southeast of Los Ángeles, four severe earthquakes occurred. Speaking of this circumstance in his diary, Father Crespi says: “To this spot was given _El Dulce Nombre de Jesús de los Temblores_ (The Sweet Name of Jesus of the Earthquakes), because of having experienced here a frightful earthquake, which was repeated four times during the day. The first, which was the most violent, happened at one o’clock of the afternoon, and the last about four o’clock. One of the _gentiles_ (unbaptized Indians), who happened to be in the camp, and who, without doubt, exercised among them the office of priest, no less terrified at the event than we, began, with horrible cries and great demonstrations, to entreat Heaven, turning to all points of the compass. This river is known to the soldiers as the _Santa Ana_.” This was one of the rare cases where the usual method of naming was reversed, and the soldiers chose the name of the saint. St. Anna was the mother of the Virgin and her name signifies “gracious.”