THE WHITEBREASTED NUTHATCH 



provised feeding-table made from a bluebird's nesting- 

 box. One cold morning the owner saw him emerging from 

 the box, where he had evidently "spent the night sitting on 

 his breakfast," literally seated in the lap of luxury. He 

 reminded me of that delicious tale I loved to read and con- 

 template during childhood, — of the children who lived in 

 a candy house and ate their way out of it! 



Another New England nuthatch, one that I watched at 

 my feeding-table, at first made rapid inroads upon the suet- 

 cage, storing pieces in the cracks of a tree near by. I saw 

 him tuck one large crumb beneath a warped shingle of the 

 chicken-house, evidently laying it up for an icy day, in- 

 stead of the proverbial rainy one. When an unusually se- 

 vere ice-storm occurred, he returned to his store house 

 and the crumb disappeared. I had the satisfaction of hav- 

 ing assisted him in his dire need. 



[75] 



