On the Trail of Pokagon 65 



body thereabouts called them. The birds were Canadian or 

 tree sparrows. I will give the good Michigan folk credit for 

 better judgment in the naming of this bird than had the 

 people who were responsible for dubbing the junco, snowbird. 

 The tree sparrow is much more of a snowbird than is the 

 junco. As a matter of fact nearly all the juncoes leave us 

 at the first sight of a snowflake while tree sparrows stay with 

 us and maintain their cheerfulness no matter how loud the 

 wind howls nor how deep the snow lies. Not infrequently 

 juncoes and tree sparrows are found together but this is dur- 

 ing the migrations or at the extreme southern limit of the 

 tree sparrow's winter journeyings. Certain it is that no 

 juncoes had the hardihood to stay with those Michigan tree 

 sparrows during that February month. Before the day was 

 over I had seen four great flocks of the sparrows at close 

 range, and not a junco feather did I see. 



Upon a dead tree in a field, with its shapely form silhou- 

 etted against the sky, sat a sharp-shinned hawk. A flock of 

 the tree sparrows was flitting about the tops of the snow 

 banks not many yards beyond his perch. I had not the 

 slightest doubt that the villian's maw already contained 

 several of the birds. At any rate his hunger must have been 

 pretty well satisfied for in the midst of plenty he made no 

 attempt to secure food. I have confessed elsewhere to a sort 

 of liking for the hawk; but the hawk is one thing and the 

 sharp-shinned hawk is another. The scientists of Uncle 

 Sam's agricultural department tell us that the sharp-shinned 

 hawk is a double-dyed rascal, and they prove their point to 

 my satisfaction. The Cooper's hawk is another villain and 

 with his sharp-shinned friend has an inordinate appetite for 

 song birds and small chickens. We may make friends of the 



