and shouts a defiance ; but he is not 

 averse to coming for crumbs when the 

 snow Hes deep on the ground. I always 

 number him among the visitors at the 

 crumb board. How handsome that blue 

 coat looks snowy mornings — bright 

 blue, clear white and some deep purple ! 

 It always gives me renewed courage 

 to see his bold, fearless manner. He 

 gives a tinge of color to the white, silent 

 world. 



In contrast to him is the cardinal 

 grosbeak or red bird as he is most 

 generally known. In his colorings the 

 blue and white are changed to red and 

 black. He gives color to the wintry 

 scene also, but in a quieter way. There 

 is more of grace and dignity in his 

 movements, more silence and reserve. 

 The woods and shrubbery are his haunts 

 and I see him about the house but little, 

 only occasionally, but I am almost certain 

 to meet him if I take my ramble along 

 the foot of the sandridge. Not much 

 needs to be said, for every city, as well 

 as country boy knows that whistle. He 

 is a vigorous and pleasing factor in our 

 woods. 



Pleasant the neighborhood in which 

 quail are abundant. It never lacks for 

 a hearty, buoyant citizen that calls 

 cheerily on the most disagreeable morn- 

 ings. He likes a farmer who leaves a 

 few shocks of corn unhusked where he 

 may find both food and lodging.. In the 

 morning, after a newly fallen snow, in- 

 numerable tracks will be about it show- 

 ing where the covey worked to get a 

 breakfast. Sometimes when other sup- 

 plies fail, he will bring the family to the 

 barnyard. An entire flock wintered .un- 

 der our barn several years ago. It was 

 very pleasant to have such neighbors in 

 mid-winter. 



Much might be written about the 

 sparrows that live here. The most com- 

 mon are the tree, the bush and the song 

 sparrow. These three may be found in 

 considerable numbers at any season of 

 the year. Up along the ditch bank I am 

 always certain of finding a flock. Here 

 grow a great many flowers, golden-rod, 

 aster, wild-sunflower, elecampane, and 

 many different weeds. As the ground 

 about here is not pastured much, the 



flowers and weeds mature their seeds, 

 and it forms a favorite feeding-ground 

 in winter. It is curious to note the number 

 of tracks under a tall weed, off from 

 which the seeds have been shattered. 

 Very frequently the first bird voice of 

 spring will be the song sparrow's. Some- 

 times I hear one some warm day in mid- 

 winter but never in late fall or Decem- 

 ber. It is interesting to notice which will 

 come first, the blue bird from his south- 

 ern home, or the song sparrow from the 

 thicket. I think there are few sounds 

 sweeter than the first piping strains of 

 the song sparrow some crisp spring-like 

 morning in late February. 



Summer and winter are much alike 

 to the gold-finch. He dons a dress suit 

 of black and gold and sings again in 

 a voice of sprightly sweetness. He bil- 

 lows gracefully from mul ein to thistle, 

 and from alder to willow. He is not so 

 easy to distinguish from other finches in 

 winter as in summer ; but a sudden 

 dash of wings, a sw-e-e-t, as a plain spar- 

 rowy looking bird flits from one weed 

 to another, tells of the gold-finch. 



While writing of the ground birds I 

 must not forget that fast friend of mine 

 the shore-lark. I have seen him the 

 loveliest days in June when the red clo- 

 ver blushes at the sun's smiles, and again 

 in January along the public road when 

 the wind made me almost gasp for 

 breath and the mercury hovered at zero; 

 yet he was just the same. Trim yet 

 plump, with an independent but digni- 

 fied mien as if he had the same right to 

 be here as I had. He is one of the birds 

 you can easily distinguish though his 

 coat is inconspicuous, by the alert man- 

 ner, habit of feeding along the road, and 

 the two tufts of feathers which have 

 gained for him the appellation horned 

 lark. 



The turtle or mourning dove, as it has 

 properly been termed, is associated in 

 my mind with warm weather, generally 

 a still afternoon when the birds have 

 become quiet and that sweet mournful 

 '*coo-coo" drifts off in the languid 

 air, It always suggests pensive quiet 

 when a person can drift on the subtle 

 sea of imagination where the ordinary 

 humdrum of existence is exchanged for 



