WILDWOOD WAYS 



breath and the oak leaf castanets ceased, 

 and then for a second I would be sure of 

 it; an elfin tinkle so crepuscular, so gos- 

 samer fine that it was less a sound than a 

 thought, the ringing of snow crystal on 

 snow crystal as the feathery flakes 

 touched and separated in the frost-keen 

 air. It surely was there and the beech 

 trees heard it and stood breathless in 

 solemn joy at the sound. 



The chickadees were very happy that 

 day. Little groups of half a dozen 

 flipped gaily from tree to tree, bustling 

 awkwardly and jovially about picking up 

 food continually, though it is rarely pos- 

 sible to see what they get as they glean 

 from limb to limb. Winter is the time 

 for sociability, say the chickadees, and 

 they welcome to their number the red- 

 breasted nuthatches that have followed 

 the season down from the Maine woods. 



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