i8 WOODLANDERS AND FIELD FOLK 



with my glass the snow-plumed pines in search of a 

 flock of interesting birds that do not appear. But in 

 such weather as this the crossbills always arrive. 

 In severe winters I have never looked in vain for 

 them in the pine- wood. . . . 



There they are! now on the upper, now on the 

 lower branches ; so tame that we may approach un- 

 heeded. The birds give out a constant twitter, and 

 ever repeat their not unmusical call-notes. Never 

 still, they are constantly changing their position, 

 fluttering from branch to branch, sending down 

 incessant showers of cones and scales, and hanging 

 to the twigs in every conceivable position. Nimbly 

 they go, parrot-like, along the under-sides of the 

 boughs, climbing and holding with bill and feet. 

 What a babble of self-satisfied, quiet chattering 

 comes from the feeding flock! What wonderful 

 adaption of means to an end in those crossed 

 mandibles! Every third cone comes to the ground, 

 but this fallen fruit is never followed by the birds. 

 When a cone is secured it is held wHh the foot upon 

 the centre of a bough, and the bill quickly invades 

 the hard material. The birds feed for an hour now, 

 and return again late in the afternoon. The severity 

 of the weather in no way affects them. Together 

 they roam the fir woods, feeding indiscriminately 

 upon the cones of fir, pine and larch. Full of life 

 and animation, their ever-changing movements are 



