DECEMBER 



Saw a shrike pecking to pieces a small bird, ap- 

 parently a snowbird. At length he took him up 

 in his bill, almost half as big as himself, and flew 

 slowly off with his prey dangling from his beak. 

 I find that I had not associated such actions with 

 my idea of birds. It was not bird-like. 



THOREAU: Winter. 



A flock of snow buntings pass high above us, 

 uttering their contented twitter, and their white 

 forms seen against the intense blue give the im- 

 pression of large snowflakes drifting across the 

 sky. 



BURROUGHS: Pepacton. 



The brook here is full of cat-tails, Typha latifo- 

 lia, reed-mace. I found on pulling open, or break- 

 ing in my hand, as one would break bread, the 

 still perfect spikes of this fine reed, that the flow- 

 ers were red or crimson at their base where united 

 to the stem. When I rubbed off what was at first 

 but a thimbleful of these dry flowerets, they sud- 

 denly took in air and flashed up like powder, ex- 

 panding like feathers or foam, filling and overflow- 

 ing my hand, to which they imparted a sensation 



of warmth quite remarkable. 



THOREAU: Winter. 



