BIRD STORIES 



foolish enough to spend his morning searching through 

 the icy birch trees, for he had a wise Httle brain in his 

 head and soon found out that it was no use to stay there. 

 But he did n't go back to the forest and mope about it. 

 Oh, no. Off he flew, down the short hill slope, seeking 

 here and there as he went. 



Where the soil was rocky under the snow, some su- 

 machs grew, and their branches of red berries looked like 

 gay Christmas decorations. The snow that had settled 

 heavily on them had partly melted, and the soaked 

 berries had stained it so that it looked like delicious 

 pink ice-cream. Some of the stain had dripped to the 

 snow below, so there were places that looked like pink 

 ice-cream there, too. Then the ice-storm had crusted it 

 over, and now it was a beautiful bit of bright color in the 

 midst of the white-and-green-and-blue Christmas. 



Chick stopped hopefully at the sumach bushes, not 

 because he knew anything about ice-cream or cared a 

 great deal about the berries; but sometimes there were 

 plump little morsels hidden among them, that he liked 

 to pull out and eat. If there was anything there that 

 morning, though, it was locked in under the ice; and 

 Chick flew on to the willows that showed where the 

 brook ran in summer. 



Ah, the willow cones ! Surely they would not fail him ! 

 He would put his bill in at the tip and down the very 



6 



