BIRDS AT YULE-TIDE. 241 



under one. Their tails, too, were noticeable, 

 being plainly and quite deeply forked. 



Advancing step by step, I came at last so 

 near these confiding birds that, had they been 

 domestic fowls, they would have avoided me. 

 The one on the ground flew into the ash-tree, 

 and both moved a little higher among the 

 branches as I walked directly beneath them. 

 Of nervous fear they gave no sign, although 

 both uttered short musical notes in a querulous 

 tone. This trustfulness is characteristic of many 

 of the migrants from the far north which sud- 

 denly, and for causes not yet fully understood, 

 sweep over fields and forest, in midwinter. 

 Many a time I have stood beneath a slender 

 white birch in whose branches dozens of pine 

 siskins were resting, or redpoll linnets feeding. 

 I have leaned over the upper rail of a fence and 

 looked down upon red crossbills eating salt and 

 grain from a cattle trough on the ground on the 

 other side of the fence, while they watched me 

 with their bright eyes, yet did not fly. Chick- 

 adees and Hudson Bay titmice have chided me 

 while they perched upon twigs, only a foot or 

 two from my head; and nuthatches, kinglets, 

 purple finches, goldfinches, and snow buntings 

 have in a less noticeable way shown far less fear 

 of me than any summer migrant or resident bird 

 would display. 



