SNO W-BIRDS. 245 



so intent on seed-hunting that I can almost 

 reach it with my hand. It has always seemed to 

 me an autumn rather than a winter bird, and is 

 one of several that is loved because of association 

 rather than for any marked trait of its own. I 

 never see them but I recall my first experience 

 in trapping. One December day, forty years ago, 

 it was snowing, and I murmured that I must 

 remain indoors. As a recompense, I was allowed 

 to trap. A sieve was tilted up and rested upon 

 a stick, to which was tied a string reaching to 

 the kitchen door. A few crumbs were sprinkled 

 under the sieve. How I watched ! How quick- 

 ly the stormy morning passed ! The snow-birds 

 came and went, and at last, spying a crumb 

 that had not been covered, a bird hopped be- 

 neath the sieve. I pulled the string at the right 

 moment. For once there was a happy mortal 

 upon earth. How impetuously I rushed out to 

 the sieve and, raising it, saw the frightened snow- 

 bird fly away ! Oh, the bitterness of my grief ! 

 My bird had been fairly caught, but it would not 

 stay a captive. And I have had such advent- 

 ures since. Painfully often have I failed to make 

 good my captures. A deal of labor and empty 

 hands at last ! 



But let us back to our ornithology. October 

 20th was a perfect day. There were snow-birds 

 in the gardens and the old maiden-blush apple 



