WINTER PLAY OF BIRDS 



A GREAT silence holds the heart of the wood. The 

 flight of a startled pigeon breaks in upon it with, 

 by contrast, the effect of a clap of thunder, and you 

 feel as if the noise must be audible a mile away. 

 But you may dwell there for half a day and not 

 see or hear another bird, unless some pheasant 

 which escaped the shooters has strayed into the 

 depths. Then all of a sudden the trees around 

 you are alive with a merry company of noisy 

 chitterers, and the brooding silence gives way to 

 a bustling commotion of gay life. Five minutes 

 more and the merry company is gone and silence 

 reigns again. 



What has happened is, that a composite flock 

 of woodland birds, on business and pleasure bent, 

 has gone careering through the wood, pausing 

 for a few moments here and a few moments there, 

 but lingering nowhere long. Are they down- 

 hearted? They do not look like it. The tem- 

 perature may be many degrees below freezing- 

 point, and the ground may be covered deep with 

 snow, but these wood-flocks always seem to have 

 plenty of spirits for a running game. And a 

 very curious assortment they make. Great tits are 

 not the most numerous, but the most powerful 



