WINTER BIRDS ABOUT BOSTON. 195 
perience, the snow buntings awaken no such 
emotions. Arctic explorers by instinct, they 
come to us only with real arctic weather, and 
almost seem to be themselves a part of the 
snow-storm with which they arrive. No matter 
what they are doing: running along the street 
before an approaching sleigh; standing on a 
wayside fence ; jumping up from the ground to 
snatch the stem of a weed, and then setting at 
work hurriedly to gather the seeds they have 
shaken down; or, best of all, skimming over 
the snow in close order, their white breasts 
catching the sun as they veer this way or that, 
— whatever they may be doing, they are the 
most picturesque of all our cold-weather birds. 
In point of suspiciousness their behavior is very 
different at different times, as, for that matter, 
is true of birds generally. Seeing the flock 
alight in a low roadside lot, you steal silently 
to the edge of the sidewalk to look over upon 
them. There they are, sure enough, walking 
and running about, only a few rods distant. 
What lovely creatures, and how prettily they 
walk! But just as you are wishing, perhaps, 
that they were a little nearer, they begin to fly 
from right under your feet. You search the 
ground eagerly, right and left, but not a bird 
can you discover; and still they continue to 
start up, now here, now there, till you are 
