FEBRUARY 



The scream of the jay is a true winter sound. 

 It is wholly without sentiment, and in harmony 

 with winter. I stole up within five or six rods of 

 a pitch pine behind which a downy woodpecker 

 was pecking. From time to time he hopped round 

 to the side towards me, and observed me without 

 fear. They are very confident birds, not easily 

 scared, but incline to keep the other side of the 

 bough from you, perhaps. 



THOEEAU: Winter. 



It is a maze of twistings and turnings, but it is 

 a tell-tale track nevertheless, for only the partridge 

 can set such an exquisite pattern. If you follow 

 it a bit, you will notice where it has disappeared 

 in the snow, leaving a sort of blur at the end of 

 this line so beautifully written. If the bird had 

 mounted into the air for a flight, the sentence 

 would have been cut short, but here is a bit of 

 punctuation that is not found in the books. The 

 partridge has started upon a burrowing expedi- 

 tion, a subterranean journey, as it were, under the 

 snow. 



SYLVESTER : Homestead Highways. 



