178 BIRD-LAND ECHOES. 



stand still in the sunshine that revives our sluggish 

 senses. Even though no squirrel complain, no shrew 

 threaten ill luck by crossing our path ; ay, even if 

 no birds be there, it is well to linger in the leafless 

 woods. Trees are far better company than that 

 hypercritical townsman. But I have seldom found 

 myself alone in the woods ; I have only lacked com- 

 pany in town. The truth is, there is always a bird 

 at hand, though we are often too blind to see it. 

 All through my note-books occurs the expression a 

 "bird-less" day. I doubt if any such ever hap- 

 pened. Usually birds will follow you, but at times 

 you must search them out. Why ? That is another 

 matter. In the woods, at any time when one is 

 likely to take a walk, the little brown tree-creeper, 

 silent, it may be, as a frightened mouse, is some- 

 where hurrying about the wrinkled bark of birch or 

 oak or peering into the narrow cracks of the stately 

 beeches ; nuthatches, too, that fret in their progress 

 over the same route, as if the smaller creeper had 

 taken all their food ; or sparrows may come drifting 

 in from the fields and twitter their satisfaction at new 

 sights ; and down the foot-path way, where the oldest 

 trees bear the burden of many a withered branch, 

 woodpeckers will most likely be found. They ap- 

 pear to delight most, these wintry days, in the de- 

 caying remnants of old forests, and I am always 

 ready to follow at their call. The long roll of their 

 drum-like tapping has nothing forbidding in it to 

 those who are willing to accept nature's offerings in 

 the proper spirit It is something more than mere 



