2 12 Cox on Rare New Brunswick Birds. [ July 



pounce upon some insect. O yes, there can be no mistake 

 about the birds' identity, those bright blue backs, wings, and 

 tails, the reddish-brown breasts, the quiet demeanor, the feed- 

 ing habits, all belong to but one, the Blue Bird ; but will not 

 the identification be discredited by professional ornithologists, 

 since it was the work of an amateur? As far as I knew 

 the species had never been reported farther north than the vicin- 

 ity of St. John, and but rarely from there; Newcastle, however, 

 was 150 miles from St. John, and almost directly north. These 

 seemed to me strong reasons for taking one, but alas ; I had no 

 gun. 



By this time the sun had set. The air began to grow chilly ; 

 mv interesting companions ceased feeding, and commenced 

 chirping to one another, as if discussing, what next? Presently 

 a decision was reached : for the three rose on the wing, anil 

 were soon lost in the gathering shades of the dark pine forest. 



The gray dawn of the morrow found me, gun in hand, hasten- 

 ing over the strong crust field, across which even a Goliath could 

 have strode in safety. Everywhere silence reigned, disturbed 

 only by the hard snow crunching under my feet, and echoing from 

 the nearest pine clad hills. 



The dark green of the woods had. during night, given place to 

 a silvery covering of frost which transformed the whole forest 

 into a mass resembling a great white cloud, thrown against the 

 horizon of a blue sky. From the early chimney tops, columns 

 of pale smoke were rising into the still morning air, so tall and 

 graceful and white as to seem like delicate marble pillars support- 

 ing the arched dome overhead. But that which claimed most of 

 mv attention, and tilled me with alternate hope and fear, was, 

 shall I see again rfty feathered visitors of the evening before? 

 When I reached their feeding gi'otirid nothing was to be seen. 

 I waited long and anxiously. Presently the sun rose large and 

 red, and shook his brilliant rays in profusion over the snowy 

 landscape. Soon the whole forest was aglow-, flashing and 

 sparkling as if set with a million gems. but. like some fond dream 

 or hope of the young heart, it soon vanished, leaving nothing 

 except the dull reality; In a few minutes the hardy Crossbills 

 ventured forth from their night retreat, and with sharpened appe- 

 tites, began breakfasting on the cones, whispering to one another 

 all the time. A Pine Grosbeak and Purple Finch, a solitary 



