84 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 
there, under the boughs, corn is kept for them 
on barrels and boxes. On the other side of the 
house, in front of the dining-room window, is a 
similar store for the blue jays and gray squirrels ; 
and as they sometimes visit the partridges’ table, 
the latter often fly around the house to see if the 
squirrels’ corn tastes any better than theirs. 
The first snowy morning they appear we have 
to peek through the shutters very cautiously, for 
they are painfully shy, crouching in the snow, lis- 
tening tremulously to the least sound from the 
house, looking about every time they pick up a 
kernel of corn, and whirring off back to their 
evergreens if a window or blind chances to be 
thrown open. But they soon lose their fears, and 
some mornings we find their pretty footprints in 
the snow on the piazza. 
One winter they seemed to show a fondness for 
music, often coming close to the house as I was 
playing the piano. Indeed they and the squirrels 
must both have followed the Pied Piper of Hame- 
lin — the squirrels not only nibble their corn with 
complacent satisfaction when the music box is 
wound for them, but have even let themselves be 
stroked when a peculiarly pathetic air was whis- 
tled! Who dare say what forest concerts the 
pretty creatures may get up on the long winter 
evenings when they are tired frolicking on the 
moonlit snow! 
Still the partridges seem to like the bright red 
