86 IN WINTER. 



birds are somewhere, and these, of both sexes, 

 can not keep quiet long. Of our winter birds, it 

 can be said that they are essentially noisy, and 

 chirp more, if they sing less, than birds in summer; 

 and in the anomalous condition of the outdoor 

 world, at present it was a relief to reach a hedge 

 with its complement of birds. Their listless 

 chirping now recalled days with the mercury 

 near zero, when, defying the keen wind from the 

 north, they sang a hearty welcome to the season 

 and hailed every snow-squall as a gift from the 

 gods. Nowhere else, however, and I walked sev- 

 eral miles, were birds to be found, save here and 

 there a solitary crow, and the conclusion is, that 

 such a season drives off rather than attracts cer- 

 tain species, while others having no incentive to 

 migrate, have not wandered this far south. I do 

 not know what the result of observation in gen- 

 eral has been, but certainly over my own ram- 

 bling ground birds have been noticeably scarce. 

 Flowers out of season are no compensation for 

 the losses that a thoroughly open winter brings 

 upon us ; the more so, if an open winter lessens 

 the number of our birds. 



As the sun rose to-day, the thought "what 

 splendid weather ! " was uppermost, and, impelled 

 by it, I struck across lots for the uncultivated 

 nooks that are so pitifully few near by. The 

 result has been given not a single satisfactory 



