WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



equipoise ; swiftly when the first blast of November 

 sends them skurrying onward with the deadened 

 leaves than their places are taken by the brave 

 little fellows whose fame I celebrate. 



Taking my way to the woods some bright, still 

 morning in January, when the snow is crisp and 

 the ice in the swamps firm, I shall find the sombre 

 fields full of a life of their own well worth my while 

 to see, even if the exhilaration of the walk does 

 not prove reward enough. Here on this fence- 

 rail is the track of a squirrel, and in the corner 

 of the rail and rider is the half-eaten body of a 

 chickadee which some butcher-bird has hung up. 

 How the dry wood creaks as I climb over, and 

 how resonant is that dead ash under the vigorous 

 hammer of the little woodpecker whose red crest 

 glows like a spark of fire against the white limb! 

 Around this spice-bush the mice have been at work, 

 nibbling the bark off up to the surface of the snow, 

 and I can see the entrance to their tunnel. This 

 path, trod bare by the cows, leads to the hilly brush- 

 pasture where the southern sun shines all the 

 afternoon, and thither let me follow. 



Sunny hill-sides, the wooded banks of creeks, 

 the hedgerows and brier-grown fences along the 

 country roads, are all favorite places for the winter 

 4 49 



