WINTER GRIST FOR THE BIRDS 



on the snow at the foot of the steep, white, weedy slope. 

 It is well worth our while to study it closely. Each 

 handful of the powder swept up at random will have a 

 surprise in store for us. Darwin it was, I believe, who 

 coaxed quite a number of foreign plants from the dirt 

 scraped from the foot of a migrating wild- 

 duck. What a garden might we not get 

 next year from a pinch of this meadow 

 snuff, or from a ball of mud rolled in it for 

 only a moment ! Not a foreign garden, it 

 is true, but perhaps a beautiful one, never- 

 theless. 



Let us see what we might expect, for we 

 can tell pretty nearly what it would be, 

 though we may be sure that it would in- 

 clude a fair number of plants which only the 

 birds care anything about. I have shown 

 a few of these crumbs which the windrow 

 would give us some of them only occa- 

 sionally, and others in great quantity. I am 

 sure that few of my younger readers 

 will remember ever having seen such 

 queer-looking things on the snow or 

 anywhere else, but I can assure them 

 that these are but a few of the pre- 

 cious packages which may be found 

 in the winter fields, and each one of 

 them is as good as a whole plant to 

 the eye of a botanist. There is no 

 mistaking where they come from. 



Let us turn our powerful magnifying-glass upon each 

 in turn as it may be necessary. Here is No. I, a turtle- 

 shaped seed beset with bristles. This is from the wild 





