312 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH STORIES 



the claim and decided on the site of the house he stuck a 

 small yellow willow switch in the ground, remarking that 

 he would soon have shade over the kitchen door. Nothing 

 roots more easily than a yellow willow, and it was not sur- 

 prising that this twig should have taken root at once and 

 quickly grown into a nice little tree. By the time I was 

 old enough to take notice it was the largest tree in the 

 yard. Its long, drooping twigs furnished the switches 

 that stirred up my memory when I was inclined to depart 

 from the straight way, and its larger branches furnished 

 a proper support for my rope swing, while there were 

 always several birds' nests higher up. It was the first tree 

 to bloom in the spring and it filled the house with fra- 

 grance and furnished the golden pollen that stimulated the 

 bees to brood rearing. Its bark had grown furrowed and 

 rugged, and provided the best place imaginable for insects 

 to hide over winter. 



This white-breasted nuthatch (for that is what he was) 

 evidently had come to this willow as a last resort in hopes 

 of finding some breakfast. When I first saw him he was 

 under a large limb just starting down the trunk of the 

 tree with his head downward. I was dumbfounded to see 

 a bird sit, apparently perfectly comfortable, on the side of 

 a tree with his head down and especially to hear him sing- 

 ing as if he enjoyed the situation. Tho on my way 

 for a load of wood, I stopped to watch the imique sight. 

 This bird was moving over the trunk of the tree prying 

 into every nook and crevice, picking up a morsel here and 

 another there, as busy as could be. He worked his way 

 down the tree until he reached the edge of the snow and 

 then with a "cha-cha" flew to join the chickadees in the 

 garden. 



