A BIRDS' FREE LUNCH 



as I was unharnessing my horse near the old apple- 

 tree, the sharp, chiding note of a chickadee. On look- 

 ing for the bird I failed to see him. Suspecting the 

 true cause of his sudden disappearance, I took a pole 

 and touched a limb that had an opening in its end 

 where the wrens had the past season had a nest. As 

 I did so, out came the chickadee and scolded sharply. 

 The storm and the cold had driven him early to his 

 chamber. The snow buntings are said to plunge 

 into the snow-banks and pass the night there. We 

 know the ruffed grouse does this. 



