36 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
no more. Then Trottie put him back in the deserted 
nest and replaced the box-cover. 
The last adventure of all was on the way home. 
We were walking along an abandoned railroad track, 
when suddenly a flock of light grayish birds flew up 
all together out of the dry grass and lighted in a 
small elm tree nearby. As we watched them, they 
turned and all flew down together. Instantly it was 
as if a mass of peach-blossoms had been spilled on 
the withered grass and white snow. Fully a third 
of the flock had crimson crowns and rose-colored 
breasts, while at the base of the streaked gray-and- 
brown backs showed a tinge of pink. It was our first 
flock of the lesser redpolls all the way down from the 
Arctic Circle. They were restless but not shy, and 
sometimes we were able to get within six feet of them. 
They would continually fly back and forth from the 
tree to the ground, keeping up a soft chattering 
interspersed with little tinkling notes, somewhat 
resembling the goldfinch or the siskin which we had 
left behind us in the swamp. Always, when they 
flew, they gave a little piping call, and their field- 
mark was a black patch under the throat which 
could be seen even farther than their red polls or their 
rosy breasts. Their beaks were light and very point- 
ed, and they had forked tails like the siskin. 
It was nearly twilight when we left them and at 
last started home. As we followed a fox-trail in and 
out through the thickets of Fern Valley, we caught 
a glimpse of a large brown bird on the ground. At 
first I thought that it was some belated fox sparrow; 
