IN FIELD AND WOOD 



vines, I heard a bird scream, and, looking in the di- 

 rection, saw that a robin was being hotly pursued by a 

 shrike. The robin was darting in and about a spruce- 

 tree, screaming his protest and leaving a trail of 

 feathers behind where the shrike struck him. Pres- 

 ently, still shouting his protests, he left the shelter 

 of the spruces and disappeared over the hill, closely 

 pursued by the shrike. What the final issue was no 

 one knows. I had not supposed that the shrike ever 

 attacked so large a bird as the robin. He certainly 

 could not carry away a bird of more than his own 

 weight, though he might kill it by a blow upon its 

 head, as he probably did in this case. 



The wild life about us is full of tragedies, both 

 winter and summer. Many of the records upon the 

 snow tell a story of only fear or pain. 



THE END 



