bird nestling close beneath a snow-laden bush in 

 a- broad meadow, or clinging fast to a limb in 

 the swaying top of some tall tree, rocked in its 

 great arms through the night by a winter gale. 

 All trees, even the pines and cedars, are fearfully 

 exposed sleeping-places, and death from cold is 

 not infrequent among the birds that take beds 

 in them. 



The pine barrens, and especially certain pine 

 clumps along Cohansey Creek and at the head 

 of Cubby Hollow, used to be famous crow- roosts. 

 Thousands of the birds, a few years ago, fre- 

 quented these pieces of wood in the winter. 

 About the middle of the afternoon, during the 

 severest weather, they begin to fly over to the 

 roost at the head of the Hollow, coming in from 

 the surrounding fields, some of them from miles 

 away, where they have been foraging all day 

 for food. You can tell the character of the 

 weather by the manner of their flight. In the 

 fall and spring they went over cawing, chasing 

 each other and performing in the air ; they were 

 happy, and life was as abundant as the spring 

 promise or the autumn fullness everywhere. But 

 in January the land is bare and hard, and life 



[9] 



