370 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



may almost be called the ever-reds. Their leaves, which 

 are falling all winter long, serve as a shelter to rabbits 

 and partridges and other winter quadrupeds and birds. 

 Even the little chickadees love to skulk amid them and 

 peep out from behind them. I hear their faint, silvery, 

 lisping notes, like tinkling glass, and occasionally a 

 sprightly day-day-day ^ as they inquisitively hop nearer 

 and nearer to me. They are our most honest and inno- 

 cent little bird, drawing yet nearer to us as the winter 

 advances, and deserve best of any of the walker. 



Feb. 9, 1854. I do not hear Therien's* axe far of late. 

 The moment I came on his chopping-ground, the chick- 

 adees flew to me, as if glad to see me. They are a pecul- 

 iarly honest and sociable little bird. I saw them go to 

 his pail repeatedly and peck his bread and butter. They 

 came and went a dozen times while I stood there. He 

 said that a great flock of them came round him the other 

 day while he was eating his dinner and lit on his clothes 

 "just like flies." One roosted on his finger, and another 

 pecked a piece of bread in his hand. They are consid- 

 erable company for the woodchopper. I heard one wiry 

 phe-he. They love to hop about wood freshly split. Ap- 

 parently they do not leave his clearing all day. They 

 were not scared when he threw down wood within a few 

 feet of them. When I looked to see how much of his 

 bread and butter they had eaten, I did not perceive that 

 any was gone. He could afford to dine a hundred. 



Jan. 7, 1855. Here comes a little flock of titmice, 

 plainly to keep me company, with their black caps and 



^ [Aleck Therien, the French-Canadian ■woodchopper celebrated in 



Walden.] 



