54 



IN BIRD LAND. 



weeds, and making many a graceful curve, loop, angle, 

 and labyrinth. By following these little paths, as has 

 been said before, you may trace the thoughts of a 

 bird, — that is, you may for the time become a bird 

 niind-reader, interpreting every impulse that seized 

 the throbbing little brain and breast. 



While watching these birds in the woods, I ob- 

 served a new freak of bird deportment. The juncos 

 would fly up into the dogwood-trees, pick off a berry, 

 nibble it greedily a moment with their little white 

 mandibles, and then fling it to the ground. My eye 

 was especially fixed on one Uttle epicure. Presently 

 he found a berry that was juicy and quite to his 

 taste, and what did he do but seize it in his beak 

 and dash down into the snow, where he stood leg- 

 deep in the icy crystals until he had eaten his blood- 

 red tidbit ! He was in no hurry, but slowly picked 

 the berry to pieces, flinging it again and again into 

 the snow, devouring the soft red pulp and throw- 

 ing the rind and seed away. He must have stood 

 for fully five minutes in the same tracks ; at all events, 

 it seemed a long while to me, standing stock-still in 

 the snow, watching him eat his cold luncheon, while 

 my feet were becoming chilled. I should have pitied 

 his little feet had he not seemed so utterly indifferent 

 to the cold. Afterward I saw a number of juncos, 

 as well as tree-sparrows, taking their dinner in a simi- 

 lar way, — that is, on the snow, which seemed to serve 

 them for a table-cloth. Having eaten the pulp of 

 the berries, they left the pits and scarlet rinds lying 

 on top of the snow. Crumbs they were, scattered 



