WILDWOOD WAYS 



winged bird and I have always been will- 

 ing to think that at such times he simply 

 whirled aloft on the northerly gale and 

 never lighted till he was a few hundred 

 miles to the south. He could do it easily 

 enough. He would find bare ground and 

 good feeding in the tidewater country of 

 Virginia when New England is three 

 feet under snow and the zero gales are 

 drifting it deeper and freezing the heart 

 out of the very trees in the wood. 



The other day, though, I caught one 

 of them sitting in the hollow of an an- 

 cient apple tree. There was an opening 

 of some size facing the south into which 

 the midday sun shone with refreshing 

 warmth. Here, sheltered from the bite 

 of the north wind the flicker had tucked 

 himself away and was enjoying his sunny 

 nook much as pigeons do in just the 

 right angle of the city cornices. But he 

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