Farther up on the slope of the hill I find 

 them in plenty running in and out of the 

 blackberries ; no doubt they find it easier 

 work to hunt a breakfast under the 

 briars than to go to the trouble of dig- 

 ging the seeds out from under the snow. 



In the tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipi- 

 fera) cardinals, nuthatches, and the two 

 species of titmice are holding high carn- 

 ival among the seeds which still adhere. 

 The cardinal seems a little awkward at 

 the business, but after a while he gets 

 what he is after, a true Yankee if he 

 does wear a coat of flaming red. The 

 nuthatch and the titmice are each quite 

 particular to follow one method of ex- 

 traction ; the former hammers his seed 

 into a crevice and proceeds to enjoy its 

 goodness at his leisure, while the titmice 

 clamp their booty down to a convenient 

 limb with one foot and split the cover 

 off with their sharp beaks. They say 

 that a man's table manners when he is 

 off his guard fix his place in the scale of 

 culture and refinement. I wonder if 

 birds should be judged by similar stand- 

 ards, and if so which is the more polite, 

 to eat with one's fork or to hold one's 

 beefsteak down with one hand while we 

 eat? 



DECEMBER. 



One week later. This week has been 

 very cold for Eastern Kentucky ; the 

 snow that fell ten days ago is still on 

 the ground everywhere except on the 

 south slopes where the sun has had a 

 good whack at it. The woods seem 

 strangely silent as I turn toward the old 

 stamping ground along the creek ; some- 

 where off in the distance I| hear the 

 hammering of a woodpecker, a downy, 

 most likely. Yes, hammering is the 

 word, not drumming or roll or call, for 

 'he is engaged in the very prosaic busi- 

 ness of digging out grubs from a stub, 

 not. telling his chosen how much he loves 

 her. 



It is no trouble to-day to find a good 

 place to cross the stream; the ice is 

 thick and supports one almost any- 

 where. In the weed patch that fur- 

 nished so many short orders for Mr. 

 Junco and his family I find a colony of 

 tree sparrows. They fly in and out of 

 the rag-weeds, stopping now and then 

 to pick out a good plump seed ; I whis- 



tle, one chap h-eeds and sits bolt upright 

 on the top of a weed; the sooty black 

 spot on the breast, the label of the spe- 

 cies, shows plainly now. Tree Sparrow 

 is a very good looking bird ; his back is 

 a fine demonstration of the harmony and 

 the beauty that lies in simple greys and 

 browns tastefully placed ; moreover, his 

 color scheme is modest and inconspicu- 

 ous, well suited to an industrious fellow 

 who has to work for his living, rain or 

 shine. 



The junco has but the shadow of a 

 title to the name *'snow bird" compared 

 with Spizella monticola, he enjoys life 

 far better on the sunny side of a Missis- 

 sippi brake than in any nook of a hedge 

 or weed patch north of the Ohio, while 

 the tree sparrow seems to rejoice at the 

 coming of the ''beautiful," and is so 

 sorry to see it go that he leaves with it. 

 Let us keep the title for the one who has 

 earned it and call the other simply by 

 his name "junco." 



Under a tulip tree I found the snow 

 literally covered with the hulls of the 

 rifled seeds; it was quite evident that 

 black cap and tufted titmouse had been 

 here for breakfast. In a second tulip 

 hard by I found the two and heard them 

 call : Black cap's call rings clear and 

 sharp, ''Chickadee, dee, dee" ; his cousin 

 lisps a little, for he says, "Thickadee, 

 dee, dee." They are an interesting pair, 

 indeed, I know that these Kentucky 

 woods would be lonely enough at this 

 season without the cheer of their voices 

 and presence. 



There is vim and snap in the air to 

 day ; it stirs the blood and makes one 

 want to do things; there is always a 

 good view from the top of the mountain 

 so up I go, if the snow does yield and 

 slip under my feet, till it seems that I 

 have climbed three such hills by the time 

 I reach the top. As far as the eye can 

 see there is one succession of ridges, ris- 

 ing here and there to the dignity of 

 ranges but constantly falling back into 

 common every-day hills. There is 

 scarcely a vestige of snow on the south 

 slopes, but the north ones have appar- 

 ently lost not an iota of the snowfall so 

 far this season. 



As I stand on the ridge and fill my 

 lunges with this tonic air there is a rustle 



