JANUARY. 33 



ing ; but no, his exposure to the cold was becoming too 

 much for his endurance, and in a most pathetic way he 

 rose upon all fours and commenced walking, as if deter- 

 mined at least to protect his precious stomach to the last. 

 A more ludicrously awkward gait is inconceivable. I can 

 liken it only to the hopeless sprawling of the patent 

 jointed tripod that came with my camera. I laughed 

 long and heartily at the plucky creature, but offered no 

 aid, when, it must be admitted, I should have pitied him. 

 As he was all the while approaching the spring, however, 

 I so far atoned for my cruelty by not again molesting him, 

 and really rejoiced when, with his remaining strength, he 

 plunged into the sparkling waters that are still his home. 



The sunshine to-day was unremitting, and every bird 

 that loved a clear sky was finally astir during the after- 

 noon. I could hear them everywhere, yet saw distinctly 

 but very few. Every distant object was to be seen but 

 dimly through the glimmering air sound alone meeting 

 with no obstruction ; and as the notes were sifted through 

 the snow-bound twigs, the familiar song of many a favor- 

 ite reached my ear. v 



But there is another phase of winter sunshine worthy 

 of notice. It is when dense, dull gray clouds obscure the 

 sun, except for the briefest intervals. Such times affect 

 our birds in a curious manner. Passing the long smilax 

 thickets, where I expect to see and hear the tree-sparrows 

 at least, there is absolute silence. Even if I force my way 

 into the little openings in the tangle, or throw stones into 

 it, or, standing near, shout long and loudly, it all matters 

 not. There is not a chirp to be heard ; no, nor the rus- 

 tling of a dead leaf ; but, waiting until the sunshine breaks 

 through some rift in the clouds, and immediately a score 

 or perhaps a hundred birds mount to the upper branches 

 of the shrubs or mazy tangle of the brier, and music forth- 

 with floats along the hill. 



