WINTER NEIGHBORS 139 



seemed to change his mind; the work stopped, 

 and I concluded the bird had wisely abandoned the 

 tree. Passing there one cold, rainy November day, 

 I thrust in my two fingers and was surprised to feel 

 something soft and warm: as I drew away my hand 

 the bird 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 discovered 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 yel- 

 low 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 



