470 ANNUAL. REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1918. 



All through the long winter this charming thrush, with his two neighbors, 

 delighted the house with his peculiar and matchless music, and endeared him- 

 self by his gentle and lovely disposition. No harsh sound was ever heard from 

 him; there was no intrusion upon the rights of others, and no vulgar quar- 

 rels disturbed his serene soul. (In Nesting Time, pp. 168-169.) 



The voice of the crow is as vigorous in January as in June, and 

 while I write these lines, in February, a blue jay is screaming from 

 a tree in a neighbor's yard as though April had come. The chicadee 

 sends out his cheery song the coldest day in winter with almost as 

 much vim as he does in the nesting time. The metallic notes of the 

 flicker ring over the hillside through the coldest months with a vigor 

 becoming the hardy bird. Indeed, the man who goes forth into the 

 New England hills in winter, especially if the sun happens to be 

 shining brightly, must be impressed by the number of bird notes he 

 will hear during the day. I went forth one day in January when 

 the earth was encased in ice, over which was a thin layer of fluffy 

 snow. A strong wind was blowing, whipping the bare branches of 

 the trees. The thermometer was low and the air stinging, surely as 

 unfavorable a day as one could find for birds. What was my de- 

 light to find a large flock of robins and another of goldfinches. 

 The latter were as active and cheerful as though it had been a day 

 in May. Defying the wind, they were in the tree tops,. swinging on 

 the tips of branches, sometimes hanging upside down, hunting* 

 eagerly for food. And from the tops of the trees their sweet, unob- 

 trusive notes dropped down like bubbles of melody floating leisurely 

 through the air. They were such a friendly company, no one show- 

 ing jealousy because another had been more fortunate in finding 

 food. Their concert of song was a free expression of their genial 

 disposition, some birds uttering only single notes while others rolled 

 out three or four syllables. I never heard a more hearty goldfinch 

 chorus in the spring than they uttered on this cold January day, ex- 

 cept it was not quite so loud as in April. The robins showed more 

 effect of the cold weather sitting on a branch with their feathers 

 fluffed out, as though to increase the size of their feather coat, but 

 with all their discomfort they too indulged in song. Most of them 

 gave the single robin note, but occasionally a more ambitious bird 

 would roll out a longer phrase, one bird answering another that 

 called from a distant tree. Then the entire flock would rise on 

 wing, chirping as they flew, as though glad they were living and 

 could not withhold an expression of their joy. From the top of the 

 pines the crows cawed at each other, tipping their bodies as they 

 called in a tilting motion, and protruding their necks and heads 

 with each note. 



The fact that is too seldom taken into consideration is that while 

 the bird usually sings his most vigorous song and indulges in his 

 most frantic efforts around the nesting season, he does use his 



