FIRST WEEK] January 5 



birds which are called permanent residents, which do not 

 leave us throughout the entire year; and, in addition, 

 the winter visitors which have come to us from the far 

 north. 



In the uplands we may flush ruffed grouse from their 

 snug retreats in the snow; while in the weedy fields, many 

 a fairy trail shows where bob-white has passed, and often 

 he will announce his own name from the top of a rail 

 fence. The grouse at this season have a curious outgrowth 

 of horny scales along each side of the toes, which, acting 

 as a tiny snowshoe, enables them to walk on soft snow 

 with little danger of sinking through. 



Few of our winter birds can boast of bright colours; 

 their garbs are chiefly grays and browns, but all have 

 some mark or habit or note by which they can be at once 

 named. For example, if you see a mouse hitching spirally 

 up a tree-trunk, a closer look will show that it is a brown 

 creeper, seeking tiny insects and their eggs in the crevices 

 of the trunk. He looks like a small piece of the roughened 

 bark which has suddenly become animated. His long tail 

 props him up and his tiny feet never fail to find a foothold. 

 Our winter birds go in flocks, and where we see a brown 

 creeper we are almost sure to find other birds. 



Nuthatches are those blue-backed, white or rufous 

 breasted little climbers who spend their lives defying the 

 law of gravity. They need no supporting tail, and have 

 only the usual number of eight toes, but they traverse the 

 bark, up or down, head often pointing toward the ground, 

 as if their feet were small vacuum cups. Their note is an 

 odd nasal nyeh! nyeh! 



