My Boyhood and Youth 



spring, roosting on the ground in a close bunch, 

 heads out ready to scatter and fly. These fine 

 birds were seldom seen when we first arrived 

 in the wilderness, but when wheat-fields sup- 

 plied abundance of food they multiplied very 

 fast, although oftentimes sore pressed during 

 hard winters when the snow reached a depth of 

 two or three feet, covering their food, while the 

 mercury fell to twenty or thirty degrees below 

 zero. Occasionally, although shy on account of 

 being persistently hunted, under pressure of 

 extreme hunger in the very coldest weather 

 when the snow was deepest they ventured into 

 barnyards and even approached the doorsteps 

 of houses, searching for any sort of scraps and 

 crumbs, as if piteously begging for food. One 

 of our neighbors saw a flock come creeping up 

 through the snow, unable to fly, hardly able to 

 walk, and while approaching the door several 

 of them actually fell down and died; showing 

 that birds, usually so vigorous and apparently 

 independent of fortune, suffer and lose their 

 lives in extreme weather like the rest of us, 

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