16 WINTER SUNSHINE 



the east and was visible a mile ahead. Its friction 

 brought up the temperature amazingly and spurred 

 the pedestrians into their best time. As I trudged 

 along, Thoreau's lines came naturally to mind: r 



" When the spring stirs my blood 



With the instinct of travel, 

 I can get enough gravel 

 On the old Marlborough road." 



Cold as the day was (many degrees below freez 

 ing), I heard and saw bluebirds, and as we passed 

 along every sheltered tangle and overgrown field or 

 lane swarmed with snowbirds and sparrows, the 

 latter mainly Canada or tree sparrows, with a sprink 

 ling of the song, and, maybe, one or two other 

 varieties. The birds are all social and gregarious 

 in winter, and seem drawn together by common in 

 stinct. Where you find one, you will not only find 

 others of the same kind, but also several different 

 kinds. The regular winter residents go in little 

 bands, like a well-organized pioneer corps, the 

 jays and woodpeckers in advance, doing the heavier 

 work; the nuthatches next, more lightly armed; 

 and the creepers and kinglets, with their slender 

 beaks and microscopic eyes, last of all. 1 



Now and then, among the gray and brown tints, 

 there was a dash of scarlet, the cardinal grosbeak, 

 whose presence was sufficient to enliven any scene. 

 In the leafless trees, as a ray of sunshine fell upon 

 him, he was visible a long way off, glowing like a 



1 It seems to me this is a borrowed observation, but I do not 

 know whom to credit it to. 



