30 IN BIRD LAND. 
an incident. One day I saw a nuthatch thrusting 
his slender bill into a hole in the bark of a young 
hickory-tree. Nuthatches often hunt for grubs in 
that way, but something about this fellow’s conduct 
prompted me to watch him closely for some minutes. 
He bent over the hole with a lingering movement, 
as if sipping something. Presently I slowly ap- 
proached the tree, keeping my eye intent on the 
bird. 
Of course, he flew away on my approach, but 
my eye was never taken from the spot to which he 
had been clinging. Being forced to climb the trunk 
of the tree a few feet, what discovery do you sup- 
pose awaited me? ‘There was a small hole pierced 
through the bark from which the sap was flowing 
down the crannies, and into that fount the little was- 
sailer had been thrusting his bill, with a sort of lin- 
gering motion, precisely as if he had been sipping 
the sweet liquor. The evidence was sufficient to 
convince me that he had been doing this very un- 
orthodox thing. ‘The real sap-suckers, no doubt, 
had dug the well, for there were a number of them 
in the woods, and the nuthatch had been stealing 
the nectar. Perhaps, however, I wrong him; he 
may have asked permission of the owner to drink 
from the saccharine fountain. 
The next autumn I took occasion to pry into the 
affairs of my beloved intimates of the woods, and had 
more than one surprise. Some species of birds, like 
some other animals, lay by a supply of food for 
winter, proving that they do take some thought for 
