IN THE HEMLOCKS. 56 



like the song-sparrow, and is not in any way associ 

 ated with the cold and the snow. So different are 

 the habits of birds in different localities. Even the 

 crow does not winter here, and is seldom seen after 

 December or before March. 



The snow-bird, or " black chipping-bird," as it is 

 known among the farmers, is the finest architect of 

 any of the ground-builders known to me. The site 

 of its nest is usually some low bank by the road-sido 

 near a wood. In a slight excavation, with a partially 

 concealed entrance, the exquisite structure is placed. 

 Horse and cow hair are plentifully used, imparting to 

 the interior of the nest great symmetry and firmness 

 as well as softness. 



Passing down through the maple arches, barely 

 pausing to observe the antics of a trio of squirrels, -— 

 two gray ones and a black one, — I cross an an- 

 cient brush fence and am fairly within the old hem- 

 locks, and in one of the most primitive, undisturbed 

 nooks. In the deep moss I tread as with muffled 

 feet, and the pupils of my eyes dilate in the dim, al- 

 most religious light. The irreverent red squirrels, 

 however, run and snicker at my approach, or mock 

 the solitude with their ridiculous chattering and frisk- 

 ng. 



This nook is the chosen haunt of the winter wren. 

 This is the only place and these the only woods in 

 which I find him in this vicinity. His voice fill? 

 these dim aisles, as if aided by some marvelous 

 iounding-board. Indeed, his song is very strong foi 



