Birds and Seasons in My Garden 3 



long-short month of the year, and yet no two Februarys are precisely 

 alike. Twelve only of these months of which I have record have been 

 absolutely snow-and ice-bound, while all the others have varied from 

 largo to capricioso and allegro con fuoco in their movements. But, there 

 is mostly a but to times of trial. If the birds are fewer than in December 

 and January, — which is the hightide of resident, transient and wind-blown 

 visiting bird-life, — ^we have more than an hour longer at night and, before 

 the month ends, an hour in the morning, in which to see those birds we 

 have, and, a significant fact, the sun rises full upon the old apple-tree 

 feeding-place, that has lain under the black shadow of the house-cover 

 these two months gone. This may seem a very slight happening, but 

 it makes an earlier call to breakfast; for, even if suet be still as solid as 

 low temperature can make it, it is certainly more palatable if the Downy, 

 Chickadee or Nuthatch that visits it has the sun on his back. In this 

 lies a hint to the placers and maintainers of either bird-houses, winter- 

 shelters or feeding-stations; location has more to do with success than is 

 usually supposed. For feeding-stations, a top-shelter from snow and rain, 

 with side wings or some other sort of wind-break, is absolutely necessary, 

 together with the selection of a spot that lies in the sun all of the brief 

 winter days. 



Nesting-houses should have a reasonable degree of protection from 

 the sun and, especially should the doors be protected from the noon and 

 afternoon rays; but, on the other hand, houses for winter shelter should 

 also be sun-baths. 



Of the forty species of birds that I once recorded as having nested in 

 the home garden some fifteen years ago, a number have dropped away 

 for lack of suitable nesting-sites; though, on the other hand, some eight 

 or ten have added themselves to the original list, bringing it up to fifty. 



I am now trying, by supplying certain of the deficiencies, to make it 

 possible for these to return; and, in one instance, the success was posi- 

 tively startling. 



For many years we had a Screech Owl brood as a matter of certainty; 

 then certain old trees and nooky out-buildings disappeared, and with them 

 the Owls. This autumn in making some Bluebird boxes of old shingles, 

 with top and bottom of strong new wood, I had a length of pine plank 

 an inch and a half thick to spare. This was roughly fashioned into a couple 

 of boxes one foot square with a hole three and a half inches in diameter 

 rather nearer the top than the bottom. A single shingle fastened on the 

 roof was so angled as to keep rain or snow from the opening. In looking 

 for a suitable spot for the houses, two Norway pines seemed promising. 

 Each had lost twenty feet of the top by wind and lightning, and the 

 branches, in one instance, had stretched up as if to hide the scar. The 

 boxes were placed on the tree-tops, the twelfth of December, to the 



