i8o Bird -Lore 



all the latter half of it, a pair of Red-bellied Nuthatches. They dined 

 with us daily (pretty creatures they are) and stayed so late in the spring 

 that I began to hope the handy food supply would induce them to tarry 

 for the summer. They were mates, I think. At any rate, they pre- 

 ferred to eat from the same bit of fat, one on each side, in great con- 

 trast with all the rest of our company. Frequently, too, a Brown 

 Creeper would be seen hitching up the trunk or over the larger limbs. 

 He likes pleasant society, though he has little to say, and perhaps found 

 scraps of suet in the crevices of the bark, where the Chickadees, who 

 are given to this kind of providence, may have packed it in store. 

 Somewhat less frequently a Gold-crest would come with the others, 

 fluttering amid the branches like a sprite. One bird draws another, 

 especially in hard times. And so it happened that our tree, or rather 

 trees, — an elm and a maple, — were something like an aviary the whole 

 winter through. It was worth more than all the trouble which the 

 experiment cost us to lie in bed before sunrise, with the mercury below 

 zero, and hear a Chickadee just outside singing as sweetly as any 

 Thrush could sing in June. If he had been trying to thank us, he could 

 not have done it more gracefully. 



The worse the weather, the better we enjoyed the birds' society; 

 and the better, in general, they seemed to appreciate our efforts on their 

 behalf. It was noticeable, however, that Chickadees were with us com- 

 paratively little during high, cold winds. On the i8th of February, for 

 example, we had a blizzard, with driving snow, the most inclement day 

 of the winter. At seven o'clock when I looked out, four Downy Wood- 

 peckers were in the elm, all trying their best to eat, though the branches 

 shook till it was hard work to hold on. They stayed much of the fore- 

 noon. At ten o'clock, when the storm showed signs of abating, though 

 it was still wild enough, a Chickadee made his appearance and whistled 

 Phd'be again and again — "a long time," my note says — in his cheeriest 

 manner. Who can help loving a bird so courageous, "so frolic, stout, 

 and self-possest? " Emerson did well to call him a "scrap of valor. " 

 Yet I find from a later note that "there were nothing like the usual 

 number of Chickadees so long as the fury lasted." Doubtless most of 

 them stayed among the evergreens. It is an old saying of the Chicka- 

 dee's, frequently quoted, " Be bold, be bold, but not too bold." On the 

 same day I saw a member of the household snowballing an English 

 Sparrow away from one branch, while a Downy Woodpecker continued 

 to feed upon the next one. The Woodpecker had got the right idea of 

 things. Honest folk need not fear the constable. 



