34 OUR WINTER BIRDS 



sleep in the snug quarters in which they were born. 

 Late one afternoon in August, I stopped beneath 

 a pine tree in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado 

 to look at a Pygmy Nuthatch (a small cousin of 

 White-breast). Soon I saw another and then a 

 third, fourth and fifth; the tree seemed to be swarm- 

 ing with Nuthatches I They were chattering to one 

 another and, as the light failed, they all began to 

 come downward toward a large, horizontal limb not 

 far above my head. In this limb there were two 

 openings which looked as though they were con- 

 nected. As I watched, one of the Nuthatches slipped 

 into the opening nearest the trunk. He was quickly 

 followed by a second and this one in turn by a third. 

 In less than a minute there was a procession of Nut- 

 hatches passing in at the same entrance, and when 

 the last one disappeared I had counted twenty-eight ! 

 Long before this number was reached I expected to 

 see Nuthatches crowded out of the second opening, 

 but the capacity of the limb to hold Nuthatches 

 seemed unlimited. How many Nuthatch famihes, 

 I wonder, shared this dormitory? 



