Three Feathered Mites 
twigs are frozen hard and stiff and cold, 
or covered with a feathery coating of 
snow, you may still hear the shrill cries, 
‘ Follow me, keep together, all together’, 
while the active, restless movements of 
the birds are accompanied by the patter 
of the snow, or the particles of frozen 
mist, dislodged even by their fairy weight, 
on the delicate twigs and branches, in 
their ceaseless hunt for food. Sometimes 
I have seen in their company some of 
the other tits—blue tits, or marsh tits, or 
cole tits, and sometimes gold-crests, all 
playing the same game together and 
following one another from twig to twig, 
and from bush to bush and tree to tree. 
The gold-crests have, too, the same 
shrill note as they follow one another 
about through the trees and_ bushes. 
‘They are even smaller than the tits and 
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