38 



Hmts to Audubon Workers. 



On New Year's morning, as we sat at 

 breakfast looking out on the storm, exclaim- 

 ing at the twigs and limbs that blackened 

 the snow, and watching the ice-covered 

 branches bowing and tossing in the wind, 

 I caught sight of a downy woodpecker work- 

 ing away on a tree in front of the window as 

 serenely as if it were a balmy summer morn- 

 ing. He hugged the trunk very closely, 

 however, and circled about slowly, pecking 

 at the bark in a cautious manner as if he 

 knew very well the best way to work in a 

 wind. His bravery was contagious, for soon 

 after a partridge — more properly the ruffed 

 grouse — came to the corn boxes in front of 

 the window for his breakfast, and only 

 scudded back under the evergreens to avoid 

 a falling branch. We could see the gray 

 squirrels racing about in the edge of the 

 woods, but they did not venture back to 

 their corn till the next morning, when the 

 storm was less violent. 



Of the familiarity of the downy, Thoreau 

 says: "I stole up within five or six rods of 

 a pitch pine behind which a downy wood- 

 pecker was pecking. From time to time 

 he hopped round to the side toward me, 

 and observed me without fear. They are 

 very confident birds, not easily scared, but 

 inclined to keep the other side of the bough 

 from you, perhaps."* Here, the downies 

 are even more fearless. I have stood by 

 the foot of a stub on which a hairy was 

 drilling, and watched a downy hunting over 

 a sapling less than ten feet away. I have 

 also made a great noise sweeping the snow 

 off the piazza without disturbing him in the 

 least, though he was eating suet only a rod 

 away. 



Under date of Jan. 8, 1854, however, 

 Thoreau says: "Stood within a rod of a 

 downy woodpecker on an apple-tree. How 

 curious and exciting the blood-red spot on 

 its hind head! I ask why it is there, but 

 no answer is rendered by these snow-clad 

 fields. It is so close to the bark I do not 



* Thoreau's "Winter," p. 312. 



see its feet. * * * It is briskly and incess- 

 antly tapping all round the dead limbs, but 

 hardly twice in a place, as if to sound the 

 tree, and so see if it has any worm in it, or 

 perchance to start them. How much he 

 deals with the bark of trees, all his life long 

 tapping and inspecting it. He it is that 

 scatters these fragments of bark and lichens 

 about on the snow at the base of trees. 

 What a lichenist he must be! Or rather per- 

 haps it is fungi make his favorite study, for 

 he deals most with dead limbs. How briskly 

 he glides up or drops himself down a 

 limb, creeping round and round, and hop- 

 ping from limb to limb, and now flitting 

 with a rippling sound of his wings to another 

 tree."* 



WHITE-BELLIED NUTHATCH ; DEVIL-DOWN- 

 HEAD. 



Crossbills, snow buntings, bluejays, pine 

 finches, pine grosbeaks, goldfinches, and 

 sometimes other birds visit us here during 

 the winter, but there are four little friends 

 that stay by us through all the goings and 

 comings, never deserting us, no matter how 

 long the winter. They form a novel quar- 

 tette, for the chickadee whistles the soprano, 

 the nuthatch sings his meagre alto through 

 his nose, and the two woodpeckers — the 

 hairy and the downy — beat their drums as 

 if determined to drown the other parts. 

 But they are a merry band, with all their 

 oddities, and wander about giving concerts 

 wherever they go, till the woods seem to be 

 alive again, and we forget that we have 

 ever missed the summer birds. 



When the drums get too much absorbed 

 in their tree trunks, the alto and air go out 

 serenading by themselves, and who knows 

 what gossip they indulge in about the grave 

 magicians' day dreams, or how gaily they 

 swear to stand by each other and never be 

 put down by these drums ! They are old 

 chums, and work together as happily as Mr, 



* Thoreau's "Winter," p. 141-142. 



