IN THE ICE-CLAD WOODS. 157 



if lie can find it among the dead leaves, either 

 on the trees or on the ground, and a great tinie 

 he often has breaking open the tough shell in 

 which the worm has encased itself. Nor does 

 he disdain to eat weed seeds when hunger 

 drives him to use them for diet. The kernels 

 of hickory nuts and walnuts, if he can man- 

 age to get them, are also a favorite dish with 

 our hungry little titmouse. 



As I continued my walk farther on in the 

 woods, I was saluted by the crested chicka- 

 dee's dainty cousin, the black-capped titmouse 

 or tomtit, a rare little beau which enlivens 

 my neighborhood all winter, no matter how 

 severe the weather. He and his fellows were 

 scurrying about on the snowy ground, hunt- 

 ing for seeds, forgetting, it seemed, that their 

 feet were bare and their carpet icy cold. If 

 one only knew how one could make a pair of 

 tiny socks for his feet, and could induce him 

 to wear them ! But I suppose he would de- 

 cline them with scorn, declaring that he was 

 no tenderfoot, and that the hose manufacturers 

 might become bankrupt for all he cared. 



The tomtits flitted about among the ice- 

 clad twigs, twining their claws around them 

 without fear of chilblains. Occasionally they 

 would slip a little, but by the aid of their wings 



