Caught in a Springtime Blizzard 



By MARGARET A. BARTLETT, Boulder, Colo. 



A BLIZZARD occurring in the midst of spring, after weeks of warm, 

 mild weather, when the grass has grown green, the crocuses and daf- 

 fodils have blossomed and passed by, and the leaf-buds on the trees 

 and bushes have swelled and partly burst from their wrappings, is hard enough 

 on human beings who have emerged from their winter's shell, only to be 

 driven back, but to the birds who have arrived from the Southland, such 

 a storm spells suffering and disaster. Yet just such a storm occurred in the 

 mountain states of the West the latter part of April, 1920. Larks, Robins, 

 Killdeers, Bluebirds, House Finches, all had been with us for more than a 

 month. Morning after morning we had been awakened by their songs. The 

 House Finches, merry little carollers, had even begun the construction of a 

 nest in a pocket formed by the close-clinging limbs of a poplar tree. "Summer 

 is coming, and springtime is here!" was the thought continually with us. 



And then came a sudden drop in temperature, a cold wind, and snow. For 

 two nights and a day it snowed without ceasing, and for still another twenty- 

 four hours the wind blew relentlessly, piling the snow in huge drifts such as 

 we had not seen before during the winter. Around our house the wind had 

 swept almost a clean path. Only a half -inch or so covered it at any time, and 

 this quickly melted as soon as even the faintest of the sun's rays struck it. 

 The pasture across the road, flat and treeless as the top of a table, showed not 

 one inch of bare ground; neither did the fields at the sides and back of the 

 house. The only possible feeding-ground for the birds, therefore, was the 

 broken circle in our yard. 



There it was they came in flocks. There were, of course, the Juncos who 

 seemed to enjoy the winter weather, and then there came the Robins. Poor 

 birds! It was pitiful to see them run along on the snow, cocking their heads 

 from side to side as if listening for worms, when you knew they were a foot 

 or a foot and a half from the ground and the home of angle worms! Yet 

 habit was so strong in them that even when they were picking up the grain 

 and crumbs that I had thrown out, they assumed the listening attitude as 

 they ran over the ground. When they struck the open space, however, their 

 listening was not in vain. There were worms, many of them, drawn to the 

 surface by the moisture from the melting snow, and the hungry Robins were 

 quick to detect their presence and after a struggle pull them out from their 

 hiding-places. Not just two or three Robins came around, but a dozen and 

 more could be seen at almost any time of the day, listening for worms. The 

 fights that ensued were many, for the Robins proved themselves very quarrel- 

 some birds. 



Once I witnessed a spirited engagement between a Robin and a Meadow- 



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