A PUZZLE IN BIRDS 



their appearance and in flocks were wandering around 

 the stubble fields, feeding on the seeds of the various 

 weeds. At a distance they look much like the Pine 

 Siskin, or even the Goldfinch in winter plumage. But 

 a closer view shows a pretty crimson patch on top of 

 the head, and now and then there is one, an adult male, 

 with a crimson wash over the breast. I remember 

 that I took a very great fancy to them and all that 

 winter I loved to watch the Redpolls. They are hardy 

 birds, breeding in Greenland and the lands nearest 

 the North Pole. 



But I was equally fond of the grosbeaks and cross- 

 bills. The occasion when I first saw these species 

 stands out in my memory among the great events of 

 my life. I was walking home one afternoon that same 

 bird-eventful winter, in December, along a street in 

 Jamaica Plain, a suburb of Boston, when I saw a flock 

 of a dozen birds, the size of Robins, eating the buds 

 of a maple tree in a garden, just over the sidewalk. 

 Hurrying on toward them, I saw that they were dark 

 gray in color, with yellow on the heads and backs, 

 except two, which were of a beautiful rosy hue. They 

 were Pine Grosbeaks, the rosy ones being adult males. 

 Though it seems that, on the whole, I never enjoyed 

 life more than I do now, at the same time I realize that 

 familiarity has probably made me incapable of ever 

 experiencing again the intense, overpowering excite- 

 ment and delight which I experienced in that first sight 

 of the Pine Grosbeak, hardy denizen of the North, 



159 



