BIRD PARADISE 219 



ting from place to place. I said a real bird 

 good-morning and followed it with my best greet- 

 ing, cherishing the idea that somehow the birds 

 knew what I meant. 



I am quite sure that two or three families of fox 

 parishioners reside in my large parish. I see the 

 tracks they leave in the snow and occasionally I 

 see one out for the daily walk. In the White 

 Creek ravine west of the village is one of their 

 favorite haunts. Another is located in the gorge 

 at Bird Paradise, and still another in the Smith 

 woods on the Utica road. I think they rather 

 enjoy locating their dwelling place in or near a 

 stone quarry. Someway they seem to know that 

 such a place is a retreat for them where they are 

 practically safe from harm. Just now with the 

 thick blanket of snow I have a notion that with 

 all the fellow's resources he carries about with him 

 a feeling of hunger most of the time. When he 

 does get out on one of his strolls he frequently 

 passes along the slope of Simmons' Hill. His 

 movements are free and easy, showing a native 

 grace that is the very poetry of motion. His 

 steady warfare upon many kinds of vermin makes 

 him a valuable scavenger, but his forays on the 



