The Bay of the Band 
stopped under a big curious bunch of green, high up 
in one of the gums, and — made his first discovery. 
So the boy climbed up again this Christmas Day 
at the peril of his precious neck, and brought down 
a bit of that old romance. 
I followed the stream along through the swamp to 
the open meadows, and then on under the steep 
wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land of 
corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope 
the winter sun lay warm, and here in the sheltered 
briery border I came upon the Christmas birds. 
There was a great variety of them, feeding and 
preening and chirping in the vines. The tangle was 
a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. Such a medley 
of notes you could not hear at any other season out- 
side a city bird store. How far the different species 
understood one another I should like to know, and 
whether the hum of voices meant sociability to them, 
as it certainly meant to me. Doubtless the first cause 
of their flocking here was the sheltered warmth and : 
the great numbers of berry-laden bushes, for there 
was no lack either of abundance or variety on the 
Christmas table. 
In sight from where I stood hung bunches of with- 
28 
