igS Bird-Lore 



the Grouse family, however, the only species really plentiful is the Ptarmi- 

 gan. Upon the bald, wind-swept tops of the highest hills alone they are 

 found (never, as I am aware, in the sheltered valleys) in flocks of thirty or 

 more, feeding upon a small red berry with which the ground is covered. In 

 winter their tracks, like those of chickens in a barn-yard, may be seen run- 

 ning hither and thither over the snow. Their pure white color at this sea- 

 son makes them inconspicuous objects, a fact which they seem to realize, 

 as they often permit an approach to within a few yards. 



Seasons change rapidly in the far north, and at the approach of March 

 (the pleasantest month of the year) the earth springs suddenly into life. 

 The snow fades from the southern hillsides at the magic touch of the sun. 

 The snow falls from the trees. Day by day the stream of water on the 

 frozen watercourses grows in volume, and the ground is bare in many places 

 in the woods. By the loth of April, Crossbills are mated, and their sweet, 

 melodious love songs are heard from the upper twigs of the young spruces. 

 Every tree along the wooded bottoms seems to pour forth some sound of 

 gladness. The Redpolls, still in large flocks, sing as they work among the 

 birch buds a song that resembles that of the American Goldfinch. Snow- 

 buntings from southward are seen scurrying over the snow in the opens. 

 By the first of May the creeks are torrents, the rivers ready to burst their 

 bonds of ice, and Ducks and Geese are seen on their bosom. The first 

 week in May, the migration is on. In the woods now about my camp 

 what a medley of sound! No birdshop, no spot in Central Park at the 

 height of migration shows more bird -life and sound than this bit of woods of 

 a warm spring morning. Overhead the ubiquitous Raven. The familiar 

 ' tsill-up' of the Red - shafted Flicker resounds from afar. The cheery, 

 cheery, cheer-up of the Robin, the murmuring tremulous note of the rare 

 Bohemian Waxwing, resembling so much our well - known Cedarbird in 

 both appearance and notes as to mislead the unwary; the jangling notes of 

 scores of handsome Rusty Grackles walking along the margins of the water. 

 From the undergrowth the chipper of White -crowned Sparrows and Jun- 

 cos; the lisping tsip of Yellow-rumped Warblers; the slender wiry notes of 

 an unknown Thrush — all these mingled with the melody of Crossbills and 

 Linnets in one grand chorus! 



