WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



one fool of a robin (robins are mostly fools) hunched 

 up, shivering and disconsolate, on an exposed 

 twig where he could hardly keep his balance, as 

 though he didn't care whether he lived or died; 

 but all the others had stowed themselves away in 

 snug crannies under the overhanging crest of the 

 bank, or were wading in a little runlet at its foot, 

 seeking food, or roosting comfortably beneath the 

 thatch of dense cedar-bushes, and they scolded 

 vigorously when I dislodged them in my attempt 

 to learn where they were and what they were about. 



Finches abounded, too, searching the bark of 

 tree-trunks for hiding beetles or for insects' eggs, 

 plucking at old flower-heads for seeds, nibbling 

 the dried purple fruit of the brier, chirping and 

 chatting cheerily, but never singing — except one 

 sort, which kept high up in the tree-tops. It sang 

 a bright, sweet, warbler-like lay, not often repeated, 

 but breathing the spirit of sunshine and summer 

 and green leaves in a way wonderfully inspiriting 

 in this whirl of cold and snow. The delicate notes 

 fairly sparkled as they eddied away with the flakes, 

 and probably were those of the Canada sparrow. 



During March the buds swell with sap and new 

 energy; many forest trees begin to flower, to the 

 delight of the kinglets and white-throated sparrows, 



87 



