16 WINTER SUNSHINE 



the east and was visible a mile ahead. Its friction 

 brought up the temperature amazingly and spurred 

 the pedestrians into their best time. As I trudged 

 along, Thoreau's lines came naturally to mind: — 



" When the spring stirs my blood 

 With the instinct of travel, 

 I can get enough gravel 

 On the old Marlborough road." 



Cold as the day was (many degrees below freez- 

 ing), I heard and saw bluebirds, and as we passed 

 along every sheltered tangle and overgrown field or 

 lane swarmed with snowbirds and sparrows, — the 

 latter mainly Canada or tree sparrows, with a sprink- 

 ling of the song, and, maybe, one or two other 

 varieties. The birds are all social and gregarious 

 in winter, and seem drawn together by common in- 

 stinct. Where you find one, you will not only find 

 others of the same kind, but also several different 

 kinds. The regular winter residents go in little 

 bands, like a well-organized pioneer corps, — the 

 jays and woodpeckers in advance, doing the heavier 

 work; the nuthatches next, more lightly armed; 

 and the creepers and kinglets, with their slender 

 beaks and microscopic eyes, last of all.' 



Now and then, among the gray and brown tints, 

 there was a dash of scarlet, — the cardinal grosbeak, 

 whose presence was suflficient to enliven any scene. 

 In the leafless trees, as a ray of sunshine fell upon 

 iim. he was visible a long way off, glowing like a 



1 It seems to me this is a borrowed observation, but I do no» 

 (mow whom to credit it to. 



