97^ Rural School Leaflet. 



We would leave the road and cross the fields where there is something 

 to look for, something to find. 



And what interesting things one can find in the snow-covered fields 

 when one knows where to look and what to look for. A rabbit has 

 passed the night under a bush; a squirrel has burrowed down through 

 the snow for a nut hidden several months before; a mouse has left the 

 shelter of the fence to hunt across the open field; a tumble weed has 

 blown across some time before; — all have disappeared and yet their 

 story is told as plainly as though it were written in a book. 



What is that we see? We have come to a field overgrown with 

 ragweed and pigeon grass. The tops still project above the snow 

 And there on the snow is written the story of a birds' banquet. A 

 lace work of tracks connects one weed with another. Seeds and other 

 particles are scattered over the snow. But the birds themselves are 

 gone. No, there they are ahead of us! The old hedgerow seems to have 

 come to life. Such a twittering! Every bush and every weed is alive 

 with birds and ever}^ bird has something to say to his neighbor. Such 

 cheer we could scarcely have imagined. Here on a cold January day 

 these birds seem as bright and happy as though it were midsummer. 

 In a moment, cold feet and cold ears are forgotten. What could they 

 be, these little creatures so happy and sociable on such a raw day? 

 We look closely and find that they resemble the chipping sparrows, 

 which are so abundant about our houses during the summer. But the 

 chipping sparrows, we know, have long since departed for the south. 

 What then, can they be? Suddenly one of the birds turns and faces 

 us and we see that its gray breast, instead of being entirely unstreaked 

 and unspotted as it is in the chippy, bears in the center a single dark 

 spot. There is but one bird that has such a spot and so we know that 

 these must be tree sparrows. And what sociable little birds they are, 

 simply bubbling over with happiness. Indeed, their happiness is con- 

 tagious, and we find that many other birds like to associate with them; 

 if not right amongst them, at least within hearing distance. Chickadees, 

 nuthatches, downy woodpeckers, brown creepers, feed on the trees 

 nearby, while juncos, if they dare still to remain with us, feed right 

 among them and join in the conversation with their merry twitter. 

 Who minds the cold with such company? Our woes are forgotten and 

 we are home before we know it. 



The tree sparrows spend their summers in the far north in Labrador, 

 and around Hudson Bay. There they build their nests, on or near the 

 ground, and raise their families. In the fall, they leave for the south, 

 arriving in New York State during the last of September or the first 



