Slate-colored Junco 253 



As they feed they continually utter quiet little notes of contentment, which, 

 upon being alarmed, change to sharp hissing sounds that I have known people 

 to think were caused by the bird snapping its bill. 



Like all birds that spend the winter where snows fall, there come times when 

 these Juncos are hard pressed for food, and probably never a winter passes 

 without many of them dying from exposure and lack of food. Thus one may see 

 very good reason exists why people should put food where they can readily 

 find it. These birds will often eat bread-crumbs, but small seeds are what they 

 prefer. The kind of bird seed one may buy at a store is good for hungry Juncos, 

 but seeds raised in the garden will answer the purpose just as well. I will name 

 sorhe of them: sunflower seeds, poppy seeds, millet, oats, cracked wheat, and 

 cracked corn will readily be taken by them. A little trouble and a very little 

 expense is all that is necessary to tide the Juncos through a time of famine and 

 keep them alive and well until better times arrive. 



It should be borne in mind that all small birds are in constant danger of be- 

 ing captured and killed by Hawks, Owls, cats, and other creatures that prey 

 upon them. When weak from lack of food, the little Junco is in poor condition 

 to escape its enemies. I recall one February when snow fell heavily for two or 

 three days and was followed by a sleet that left a crust over the top of the snow; 

 also it broke down and buried the weed-stalks which still held their store of 

 seeds. Throughout the whole country there was practically no food for the 

 Junco. 



One evening, upon returning late to the house, I caught sight of a small bird 

 that flew up to roost on the top of one of the pillars supporting the wide veranda 

 of my home. On the little projection, perhaps three inches wide and protected 

 from the wind, it crouched down to spend the night. An hour later I came 

 out with a light and approached close enough to see that my little visitor was a 

 Junco, I put some cracked wheat on the wide veranda railing close by and 

 hoped the bird would find it when it awoke in the morning, but the wind in- 

 creased in violence and more sleet fell during the night, so I am sure not a grain 

 of it was left for our Httle visitor when he opened his eyes at daylight. 



It so chanced that the next evening, just as I came up the steps, the Junco 

 alighted on the veranda railing and attempted to fly up to the top of the pillar, 

 but it was now so weak that it was unable to gain its perch, and fell to the floor. 

 Cautiously I advanced, thinking to secure the bird and feed it in the house. 

 It flew out in the yard, however, and was soon lost in some low shrubbery. The 

 next morning its feathers were scattered over the veranda. A cat had caught it 

 and brought it there to eat. 



John James Audubon, writing of the Junco as he knew it in Louisiana, said : 



"Although the Snow-birds live in little families consisting of twenty, thirty, 

 or more individuals, they seem always inclined to keep up a certain degree of 

 etiquette among themselves, and will not suffer one of their kind, or indeed any 

 other bird, to come into immediate contact with them. To prevent intrusions 



