8 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



seek cheerfully for the seeds which nature has 

 provided for them. Then a thaw comes, and they 

 disappear as silently and mysteriously as if they 

 had melted with the flakes ; but doubtless they are 

 far to the northward, hanging on the outskirts of 

 the Arctic storms, and giving way only when every 

 particle of food is frozen tight, the ground cov- 

 ered deep with snow, and the panicled seed clus- 

 ters locked in crystal frames of ice. 



The feathers of these Arctic wanderers are 

 perfect non-conductors of heat and of cold, and 

 never a chill reaches their little frames until 

 hunger presses. Then they must find food and 

 quickly, or they die. When these snowflakes first 

 come to us they are tinged with gray and brown, 

 but gradually through the winter their colours 

 become more clear-cut and brilliant, until, when 

 spring comes, they are garbed in contrasting 

 black and white. With all this change, however, 

 they leave never a feather with us, but only the 

 minute brown tips of the feather vanes, which, by 

 wearing away, leave exposed the clean new 

 colours beneath. 



Thus we find that there are problems innumer- 

 able to verify and to solve, even when the tide of 

 the year's life is at its lowest ebb. 



From out the white and pulsing storm 



I hear the snowbirds calling; 

 The sheeted winds stalk o'er the hills, 



And fast the snow is falling. 



