86 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



no more. Then Trottie put him back in the deserted 

 nest and replaced the box-cover. 



The last adventure of all was on the way home. 

 We were walking along an abandoned railroad track, 

 when suddenly a flock of light grayish birds flew up 

 all together out of the dry grass and lighted in a 

 small elm tree nearby. As we watched them, they 

 turned and all flew down together. Instantly it was 

 as if a mass of peach-blossoms had been spilled on 

 the withered grass and white snow. Fully a third 

 of the flock had crimson crowns and rose-colored 

 breasts, while at the base of the streaked gray-and- 

 brown backs showed a tinge of pink. It was our first 

 flock of the lesser redpolls all the way down from the 

 Arctic Circle. They were restless but not shy, and 

 sometimes we were able to get within six feet of them. 

 They would continually fly back and forth from the 

 tree to the ground, keeping up a soft chattering 

 interspersed with little tinkling notes, somewhat 

 resembling the goldfinch or the siskin which we had 

 left behind us in the swamp. Always, when they 

 flew, they gave a little piping call, and their field- 

 mark was a black patch under the throat which 

 could be seen even farther than their red polls or their 

 rosy breasts. Their beaks were light and very point- 

 ed, and they had forked tails like the siskin. 



It was nearly twilight when we left them and at 

 last started home. As we followed a fox-trail in and 

 out through the thickets of Fern Valley, we caught 

 a glimpse of a large brown bird on the ground. At 

 first I thought that it was some belated fox sparrow; 



