snow that cut like sleet. I reached a field finally where the storm had full 

 sweep, and was compelled to brace myself to resist its force. I edged into it 

 as best I could, and before I had made many yards I found that even in the 

 tempest I had bird companions. A flock of snow buntings were whirling 

 over a depression in the prairie. The wind tossed them about almost at will, 

 but in some way they managed to hold their place over the same low spot in 

 the field. They went to the ground finally, but as I passed them they rose in 

 a body and went hurtling down the wind. What I saw was but little more 

 than some streaks in the snow-laden air. A blizzard is of but little more 

 moment to a snow bunting than a zephyr. How the wind did hurl them ! 

 They were not more than four feet above the ground, and were being borne 

 straight at a close board fence. I thought they were about to be dashed head- 

 long against it, but the buntings had ridden on the breast of a storm before. 

 When within a few feet of the fence they rose and went scuttling over the 

 top, showing white against the treetops beyond. 



Slate-Colored JunCO {Junco hyemalis) 

 By W. Leon Dawson 



Length: Six and one-fourth inches. Range: North America, chiefly 

 east of the Rockies, breeding in the hilly portions of the Northern States. 

 South in winter to the Gulf States. 



Common in spring and fall, a few remain through the winter; sexes 

 similar, female duller; nest usually on the ground in a clump of low bushes, 

 of grass, and moss lined with fine grass and hair ; eggs four or five ; song a 

 modest trill. 



A summer in Laurentia is certainly good for the health, for when Junco 

 returns in the fall he is chockfull of animal spirits and good cheer. He is a 

 very energetic body at any time of year, but his high spirits are especially 

 grateful to the beholder when the numbing cold of winter has silenced all 

 feathered kind but the invincible Tree Sparrows and Snow-birds. The 

 plumage of the Junco exactly matches his winter surroundings — "Leaden 

 skies above; snow below," Mr. Parkhurst says — and he proceeds to make 

 himself thoroughly at home. Not content to mope about within the limits of 

 a single brush-patch, like Tree Sparrows, large companies of Snow-birds 

 rove restlessly through tree-tops and weedy dingles as well, and cover con- 

 siderable areas in a day. 



On such occasions, and commonly, they employ a peculiar twitter of 

 mingled greeting and alarm,— a double note which escapes them whenever 

 any movement of wing is made or contemplated. I have called this the 



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