230 THE JAY. 
ringdove. All these birds feed voraciously on the 
acorn ; and, with the exception of the two last men- 
tioned, they bury it in the ground, not in hoarded 
heaps, but separately, here and there, as fancy may 
direct them. 
When the snows of winter have fairly set in, and 
thus prevented the jay from finding a supply of 
acorns amongst the fallen leaves in the woods, it is 
then seen flitting from hedge to hedge in the vicinity 
of pea and bean stacks, where it may be observed 
clinging to the sides of these in quest of uncovered 
pods ; and thus it acquires part of its scanty pro- 
vender, “till the vernal suns and showers” have dis- 
solved the accumulated snow, and cleared its former 
haunts. To these it returns once more, and con- 
sumes myriads of insects in comparative safety. But 
when the fatal season of peas and ripe cherries 
arrives, scarcely any thing short of death can deter 
this unfortunate bird from participating in the prof- 
fered feast. The gardener, in discharging his gun 
at it, is sure to make bad worse by his officious in- 
terference; for, in his eagerness to kill the poor 
bird, he never once reflects that the contents of his 
piece do ten times more harm to the fruit and to 
the tender shoots of the cherry tree, than the 
dreaded presence of half a dozen jays, all with empty 
stomachs. 
Towards the end of April, when nature smiles 
around, and the woods begin to expand their open- 
ing bloom, he who loves to wander through them, 
in quest of ornithological adventures, will sometimes 
hear a profusion of imitative tones not far from the 
