THE DRAWBRIDGE. 293 



py are we in the presence of the acknowledged leader 

 of the winter's choir, the brave and brilliant cardinal. 



But let me give my country all her due ; for there are 

 yet other winter birds. The cow-bird, strange creature, 

 with its gurgling rattle, can in nowise be omitted ; and 

 then the tuneful meadow-lark, that hidden aloft whistles 

 half a day, yet is seen by no one. The purple grakle 

 comes and goes, ever hoarse with overmuch chattering, 

 and the only one of all I have mentioned meriting the 

 charge of being tiresome. On the other hand, those 

 equally noisy birds of the marshes, the red-winged black- 

 birds, are always welcome, the more so when their pleas- 

 ant notes come floating over acres of dreary, ice-bound 

 meadows. 



Less musical than even a jay is our screaming, harsh- 

 tongued kingfisher, and he, also, is no stranger in the 

 land, even at Christmas, and at such a time his coarse 

 rattling accords fairly well with the noise of chafing, icy 

 branches stirred by the wintry winds. 



Well the kingfisher knows the treacherous spring- 

 holes in the meadows where frost fails in its handiwork 

 and hosts of minnows linger until " April unlocks the 

 icy rill." 



It is ours, too, to boast of five or six woodpeckers, all 

 of which, while having next to nothing to say, are so 

 noisy at their work of tapping trees that we hear them 

 often when they elude our search. 



Lastly, in steps the chattering jay, quick-witted cousin 

 of the cunning crow, and what he lacks in musical talent 

 he endeavors to compensate the rambler for in vigorous 

 declamation. 



