50 OUR NATIVE BIRDS 
snow storm had covered it, I always went out early, just 
at dawn, and found that the tree sparrows, always the 
earliest risers, would know me almost immediately, and 
come up through the orchard. It was a beautiful sight 
as they flitted leisurely from tree to tree, nearer and 
nearer, with gentle call notes, dropping down one 
by one at first, then more and more rapidly, till the 
whole flock were close about my feet. This was the 
only time in the day when they fed quietly. The first 
edge of hunger off, and it was a panorama of flashing 
wings pursuing and pursued, and all the time their 
musical notes of protest and aggression filling the air, 
for they are birds who have no notes but those of music. 
In February, at sunrise, they would begin to sing softly ; 
by the middle of March the orchard was jubilant. 
“ As I write, a pair of nuthatches are at the window, 
softly talking to each other; chickadees come and go, 
carrying the hemp seeds to the apple boughs, where 
they deftly manipulate them with their toes while they 
quickly penetrate the husk and take out the living 
germ, much more quickly than I can write of it; the 
tree sparrows are rolling these same hemp seeds be- 
tween tongue and bill till the husk falls, opening by its 
suture; and a hairy woodpecker within four feet of 
me is striking vigorous blows at the suet near by. 
“And now for that vexed question of the English 
sparrow! As one lad put it, ‘What do you do, Mrs. 
Davenport, when the English sparrow gets mixed in?’ 
Let me preface my own experience with this intruder 
by an observation. This bird is especially addicted to 
