4 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



willows, privet, and rose bushes gay with their 

 red hips, I heard a note which made me halt 

 and listen. Yes, a robin. The sides of the 

 ravine were clothed with savins, the ridges were 

 crowned by tall pines. Rose hips and sumac 

 seeds, barberries, privet and juniper berries 

 furnished food, and the sun is always warm 

 when it shines. A soft rain began to fall, and 

 it loosed the tongues of the birds. Chickadees 

 called from tree to hedge. Golden-crested king- 

 lets lisped to each other in the cedars. A dozen 

 crows circled over the high pines, cawing discon- 

 tentedly, and the robin's note sounded from 

 three or four quarters at once. I gained the top 

 of the ridge and looked across a pasture. In a 

 branching oak were several birds. As I drew 

 near, others flew in from neighboring savins and 

 bunches of barberry bushes. They were robins. 

 In all, thirty-six flew into the oak and then went 

 off in a noisy flock as I reached the tree. Their 

 plumage was much lighter than in summer. The 

 rain fell faster and I left the pasture, homeward 

 bound. The last I saw of the pasture hillside it 

 was sprinkled with robins running back and 

 forth on the snow, picking up privet berries. 

 They were as jolly as in cherry time. 



While recrossing pasture and field, swamp 

 and thicket, I noticed countless black specks 

 upon the snow. They moved. They were 



