WINTER NEIGHBORS. ft 



joining orchards, each of which has a like home and 

 leads a like solitary life. One of them has excavat I 

 a dry limb within easy reach of my hand, doing the 

 work also in September. But the choice of tree 

 not a good one ; the limb was too much de 

 one workman had made the cavity too large; :. chip 

 had come out, making a hole in the outer wall. 

 he went a few inches down the limb and began again* 

 and excavated a large, commodious chamber, but had 

 again come too near the surface : scarcely more than 

 the bark protected him in one place, and the limb \ 

 very much weakened. Then he made another attempt 

 still farther down the limb, and drilled in an inch 

 or two, but seemed, to change his mind; the work 

 stopped, and I concluded the bird had wisely aban- 

 doned the tree. Passing there one cold, rainy Novem- 

 ber day, I thrust in my two fingers and was surprised 

 to feel something soft and warm : as I drew away my 

 hand the bird came out, apparently no more surprised 

 than I was. It had decided, then, to make its home 

 in the old limb; a decision it had occasion to regret, 

 for not long after, on a stormy night, the branch gave 

 way and fell to the ground. 



" When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, 

 And down will conie baby, cradle and all." 



Such a cavity makes a snug, warm home, and H hen 



the entrance is on the under side of the limb, a& 

 usual, the wind and snow cannot reach the occupant 

 Late in December, while crossing a high, wood 

 nountain, lured by the music of fox-hounds. 1 « 

 covered fresh yellow chips strewing the new-fallen 

 snow, and at once though 1- , of my woodpeckers. 1 »:i 

 booking around I saw where one had been ai work 

 excavating a lodge in a small yellow birch. Die ori 



