52 IN BIRD LAND. 
socks —this is an honest confession — and a pair 
of warm rubber boots. More than that, they thrust 
their beaks into the snow and ate of it quite greedily. 
What wonderful reserves of caloric must be wrapped 
up in their small bodies to enable them to keep 
themselves comfortable in winter with never a 
mouthful of warm victuals or drink! That the birds 
should thrive and be happy in the spring and 
summer is no matter of surprise ; but it remains for 
the lover of out-door life in the winter to prove that 
many of them are just as cheerful and content when 
the mercury has taken a jaunt to some point far 
below zero. 
The student of Nature cannot always be in the 
same mood. Indeed, Nature herself is, at times, as 
whimsical, apparently, as the human heart. ‘There 
are times when she seems quite stolid, keeping her 
precious secrets all to herself, as if her lips had 
been hermetically sealed. With all your coaxing and 
hoaxing and flattery, you cannot win from her a re- 
sponse. Emerson, inone of his poems, speaks about 
the forms of Nature dulling the edge of the mind 
with their monotony; and this sometimes seems to 
be the case.’ Yet I must protest atvonce that atas 
not generally true. There are days when Nature 
fairly bubbles over with good cheer, and grows talk- 
ative and even confidential, responding to every 
touch of the rambler as a well-strung harp responds 
to the touch of a skilful player. It is difficult to 
account for her changeable moods, but obviously 
they are not always to be traced only to the mind 
of the observer. 
