Happenings by the Way 117 



in the exposed place where I could see them so plainly, 

 and so, while I was looking elsewhere, had persuaded 

 them to shift their position. Now they were partly 

 screened by the intervening leaves, and she felt that 

 they were secure. 



There can be no doubt that birds have a language 

 which the youngsters soon come to understand, how- 

 ever simple and inarticulated it may be. In a shady 

 hollow, one day of early spring, a pair of tufted titmice 

 were supplying the wants of a family of famishing chil- 

 dren, and I invited myself to the family reunion. The 

 young birds had left the nest and were perched in a 

 leafy tree. Most of the time they kept up a great clamor 

 for food or, perhaps, they shrieked merely from force 

 of habit ; but every, few minutes one of the parent birds 

 would utter a shrill, commanding cry, at which all the 

 noisy clamorings of the youthful family would suddenly 

 cease, and for a few moments perfect quiet would reign 

 in titmouse town; then the hubbub would begin again, 

 and continue until another order for perfect silence was 

 given. So far as I could see, there was no danger from 

 raptorial foes at hand, but the little family seemed to be 

 in training against the approach of a marauder. 



It may be a far cry, but from green-robed spring fancy 

 yourself suddenly flung into the lap of snow-bound 

 winter, to look upon scenes quite different from the fore- 

 going. The Frost King had been playing a good many 

 pranks for a week or two, and once, in a spasm of frigid 

 ill humor, had jammed the mercury in our thermometers 



