216 A BIRD-LOVER’S APRIL. 
er 
these ‘‘ pensioners upon the traveler’s track” 
scurry past the window in advance of them. 
It is pleasant to observe how naturally birds 
flock together in hard times, — precisely as men 
do, and doubtless for similar reasons. ‘The edge 
of the wood, just mentioned, was populous with 
them: robins, bluebirds, chickadees, fox spar- 
rows, snow-birds, song sparrows, tree sparrows, 
pheebes, a golden-winged woodpecker, and a 
rusty blackbird. The last, noticeable for his 
conspicuous light-colored eye-ring, had some- 
how become separated from his fellows, and re- 
mained for several days about this spot entirely 
alone. I liked to watch his aquatic perform- 
ances; they might almost have been those of 
the American dipper himself, I thought. He 
made nothing of putting his head and neck 
clean under water, like a duck, and sometimes 
waded the brook when the current was so 
strong that he was compelled every now and 
then to stop and brace himself against it, lest 
he should be carried off his feet. 
It is clear that birds, sharing the frailty of 
some who are better than many sparrows, are 
often wanting in patience. As spring draws 
near they cannot wait for its coming. What 
it has been the fashion to call their unerring 
instinct is after all infallible only as a certain 
great public functionary is,— in theory; and 
