30 IN BIRD LAND. 



an incident. One day I saw a nuthatch thrusting 

 his slender bill into a hole in the bark of a young 

 hickory-tree. Nuthatches often hunt for grubs in 

 that way, but something about this fellow's conduct 

 prompted me to watch him closely for some minutes. 

 He bent over the hole with a lingering movement, 

 as if sipping something. Presently I slowly ap- 

 proached the tree, keeping my eye intent on the 

 bird. 



Of course, he flew away on my approach, but 

 my eye was never taken from the spot to which he 

 had been clinging. Being forced to climb the trunk 

 of the tree a few feet, what discovery do you sup- 

 pose awaited me ? There was a small hole pierced 

 through the bark from which the sap was flowing 

 down the crannies, and into that fount the little was- 

 sailer had been thrusting his bill, with a sort of lin- 

 gering motion, precisely as if he had been sipping 

 the sweet liquor. The evidence was sufficient to 

 convince me that he had been doing this very un- 

 orthodox thing. The real sap-suckers, no doubt, 

 had dug the well, for there were a number of them 

 in the woods, and the nuthatch had been stealing 

 the nectar. Perhaps, however, I wrong him ; he 

 may have asked permission of the owner to drink 

 from the saccharine fountain. 



The next autumn I took occasion to pry into the 

 affairs of my beloved intimates of the woods, and had 

 more than one surprise. Some species of birds, like 

 some other animals, lay by a supply of food for 

 winter, proving that they do take some thought for 



