130 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



balled the trees. A perfect shower of little fellows 

 flitted into space, and each scolded vehemently at such 

 thoughtless disturbance, but their protests were of no 

 avail. I continued throwing soft balls, until finally a 

 large bird appeared and flew to the fence near by. 

 This it was that had uttered the loud, harsh chirp: 

 it was a pine grosbeak. Its tameness was remarkable. 

 I stood within six paces of it and fully exposed to view ; 

 yet it sat on the fence, looking towards me, wholly un- 

 concerned. I threw a handful of loose snow at it and 

 sent it reeling to the ground, and before it could re- 

 cover from its astonishment, I had my hat over it. 

 With a little care I got a safe hold upon it, and 

 brought it to light. It became quiet in a moment, 

 and seemed perfectly contented. There was no ex- 

 ternal evidence that the bird was injured, and in a few 

 minutes I tossed it into the air, supposing, of course, it 

 would fly to some near tree. What was my surprise to 

 hear it utter a shrill chirp, several times repeated, when 

 out from the cedar came four others, which, joining it, 

 all rose to a considerable elevation, and taking a north- 

 ern course, flew off. I trust they were not disgusted 

 with my rude treatment, and did not report ill of me in 

 their Northern home. If they will come back, I prom- 

 ise to snowball them no more. 



In December, '76, all Northern birds were unusually 

 abundant, and several flocks of pine grosbeaks were 

 seen in the streets of a certain town. Their presence 

 was explained by the statement that a ship had been 

 wrecked upon the coast, the cargo of which was made 

 np, in part, of a large number of Brazilian birds and 



