10 Massachusetts Audubon Society 



murmuring was in the trees, and it seemed as though one could almost hear 

 the opening of their delicate green leaves, among which played scintillating 

 lights from the brilliant stars. The air was perfumed with the sweet breath 

 of opening flowers, and the soft breeze laden with ozone from the pines and 

 spruces. 



Many sounds could be heard — as different, though not as abundant as 

 those of the day. The weird — almost startling — ^hoot of a barred owl 

 sounded across the valley from its haunts among the distant pines; the vary- 

 ing trills of frogs and toads, rising from the swamps and little ponds, made 

 pleasing music and seemed eminently fitting to our mystic surroundings; 

 out of the deep blue dome over our heads a thousand eyes looked down upon 

 this furtive life about us. At the Moose Hill Bird Sanctuary the night-folk 

 reigned supreme. 



FEEDING THE HAVERHILL BIRDS 

 By J. D. Curtis 



My wife and I have both been bird students for a number of years, ever 

 since we moved into the outskirts of the city, and while we have had many 

 very delightful experiences in feeding and attracting them about our home, 

 we have never reached the height of our ambition, viz., to have a wild bird 

 feed from our hands, until this winter. Not far from our home is a tract 

 of woodland inhabited by many kinds of birds and small animals, and it 

 has been our custom for some years in severe weather to take food there 

 and scatter it where they could easily find it, mostly around stumps and 

 at the foot of large pine trees, on the southerly side where the snow did not 

 cover the ground, and we have had much pleasure in doing this, for 

 the woods are always beautiful after a snow or ice storm, and it is most 

 interesting to go back again in a day or two and see the many kinds of 

 tracks in the snow, showing just how much our efforts were appreciated. 



In some places the tracks would show that a real party of wood folk 

 must have taken place. On our first trip to these woods this winter some 

 chickadees met us, and we tried to induce them to perch upon a beef bone 

 held in our hands. They would come quite near, but not upon it, but as 

 soon as we tied it to a branch they immediately lit upon it. 



The next time we went, a friend was with us, and, as we told him 

 about the chickadees, one came on a piece of suet which my wife held in 

 her hand. We made our usual circuit and were coming out empty-handed, 

 when up came Mr. Chickadee, and I held out my hand. Much to my 

 surprise, he lit on the under side of my coat-sleeve upside down, and in 

 the cutest manner tipped his head on one side and peeped up my sleeve, 

 chirped a few times and flew away. "0 for a camera and more suet!" we 

 cried. So we planned to come back again, which we did in a few days, 

 with two cameras and a plentiful supply of suet, nuts, grain, etc. We had 

 not gone very far into the woods, when our little friends arrived, and, in 

 answer to our invitation to dine upon the suet we held, came freely to 

 each one of us, time and time again; they showed absolutely no fear and 

 followed us wherever we went, and when they had eaten enough, they 

 flew with bits of the suet to the trees and hid it behind the bark and came 

 back for more. Once Mrs. C. held out a tempting nut in one hand, hiding 

 the suet behind her, the little fellow came, peeped at the nut, and then 



