WINTER NEIGHBORS. 153 



soft and warm : as I drew away my hand the hird 

 came out, apparently no more surprised than I was. 

 It had decided, then, to make its home in the old 

 limb ; a decision it had occasion to regret, for not 

 long after, on a stormy night, the branch gave way 

 and fell to the ground. 



" When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, 

 And down will come baby, cradle and all." 



Such a cavity makes a snug, warm home, and when 

 the entrance is on the under side of the limb, as is 

 usual, the wind and snow cannot reach the occupant. 

 Late in December, while crossing a high, wooded 

 mountain, lured by the music of fox-hounds, I dis- 

 covered fresh yellow chips strewing the new-fallen 

 snow, and at once thought of my woodpeckers. On 

 looking around I saw where one had been at work 

 excavating a lodge in a small yellow birch. The 

 orifice was about fifteen feet from the ground, and 

 appeared as round as if struck with a compass. It 

 was on the east side of the tree, so as to avoid the 

 prevailing west and northwest winds. As it was 

 nearly two inches in diameter, it could not have been 

 the work of the downy, but must* have been that of 

 the hairy, or else the yellow-bellied woodpecker. His 

 home had probably been wrecked by some violent 

 wind, and he was thus providing himself another. In 

 digging out these retreats the woodpeckers prefer a 

 dry, brittle trunk, not too soft. They go in hori- 

 zontally to the centre and then turn downward, en- 



