12 /A T WINTER. 



sings as he passes by. Toward sunset they re- 

 turn to the cedar and pine woods across the 

 river, and then, too, they may be heard. Their 

 movements are as regular as those of the crows 

 that roost somewhere in the same neighborhood. 

 I have often failed to see them, they flew at so 

 great an elevation, but their song is not to be 

 confounded with that of any other bird ; nor are 

 they like the chats ventriloquists. Somewhere 

 in the upper regions they were floating along, 

 and their music, drifting earthward, brightens the 

 winter landscape until we think of early spring. 

 But the bluebirds are not always so unsociable, 

 There is a rick of cornstalks not far away, about 

 which I find a pair almost daily, and did not the 

 pestiferous house-sparrows worry them so much, 

 I am sure they would sing more frequently. 

 They appear to realize that their songs may be 

 heard, and so bring down upon them an attack ; 

 so, if they warble at all, it is very softly, as 

 though not quite discouraged, and hopeful of 

 better times. They have held their little fort, 

 however, since early autumn, and I am in hopes 

 will outwit their enemies when nesting time ar- 

 rives. 



No, it is not true that the country is desolate, 

 even in midwinter. I heard a bluebird sing dur- 

 ing the great storm of March, 1888, and since 

 then have been hopeful, although for more than 



