In Winter 



cussion, for the bird himself flits by. He 

 is very much Hke the House Wren in 

 appearance — except that his short tail is 

 even more than perpendicular, actually 

 pointing toward his head. He don't seem 

 ^'si scrap worried" over the low temper- 

 ature, but is lively and active as a cricket 

 in June. In seasonable weather he is a 

 sweet singer — though just at this time of the 

 year his voice has dwindled to the faintest 

 echo of a chirp. 



As he disappears and I proceed — I notice 

 that others before me have followed the 

 path I take; for the smooth, silvery bark 

 of the beech trees on every side is covered 

 with initials by the score. 



In a minute or two the thin, rapid, 

 warbling note of the Snowbird rises here 

 and there in front of me — and then the 

 singers themselves start up and forward, 

 one at a time, right and left, to the number 

 of twenty-five or more, their broad, white, 

 lateral tail-feathers and bright buff beaks 

 very prominent in the solid dark slate 

 color of wings and back and head. 



[189] 



