A RUNAWAY DAY 67 
It grew colder and colder, and the little cabin 
snapped and cracked with the frost. Banking up 
the fireplace with logs, I pulled my bed up into the 
circle of heat, and fell asleep to the flickering of the 
fire and the croon of the wind among the pine trees 
outside. Through the window I could see the winter 
sky ablaze with stars, while the late moon shone like 
a bowl of frozen gold through the black tree-trunks. 
The next morning I had to leave on the nine- 
o’clock train; and so I rose early and after breakfast 
took a last walk down to Lower Mill and back, to 
see if I could add any more winter birds to my list. 
It was a cold, clear, snapping winter morning, and 
as the sun came up through the pine trees I met 
first one and then another of the bird-folk abroad 
after their breakfasts. First I heard the “Pip, pip!”’ 
of the downy woodpecker, all black and white, with 
a bloodstain at the back of his head. He is a tree- 
climber who can go up a tree head-foremost, but 
must always back down. The nuthatches, with their 
white cheeks and grunting notes, can go up and 
down a tree either head-first or tail-first and the last 
of the tree-climbers, the brown creeper, climbs up in 
a spiral, but has to fly down. 
Farther on, I heard the call of the big hairy wood- 
pecker, which looks almost like the downy except 
that he is nearly twice as large. He was drilling a 
hole in the under side of a branch and sucking out 
hibernating ants with his long, sticky trident tongue. 
Next came a tree sparrow, with his white wing-bar 
and brown-red patch on the crown of his head. 
