68 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
He was busily scratching on the ground; he is called 
a tree sparrow because never by any chance is he 
found in a tree. On the side of a white-oak tree a bit 
of bark seemed to move upward in a spiral, and I 
recognized the brown creeper, the last of the climbers. 
He went up the tree in a series of tiny hops and then, 
true to his training, flew down and started up again. 
As I turned the curve by Lower Mill, I saw in a 
thicket near the dam a number of white-throated 
sparrows, with their striped white heads and white 
throat-patches. Near them suddenly hopped a bird 
that ought to have been far south. It was reddish 
brown with a long tail, and I recognized the female 
chewink. She hopped around and scratched among 
the leaves like a little hen, in true chewink style, 
as if the month were April instead of January. 
I hurried around a bend in the road and heard over 
my head a series of loud pips, much like the note of 
an English sparrow. I looked up — and there was 
my great adventure. A little locust tree was filled 
with a flock of plump, large birds. At first I thought 
that they were cedar birds, but in a moment I caught 
sight of their coloring. Six of the males out of the 
flock of seventy-four were in full plumage. Their 
forked tails were velvet black. Their wings were the 
golden white of old ivory, with a broad black edge, 
their heads grayish black, and their breasts and 
backs a deep, rich gold; and, strangest of all, their 
thick beaks were of a greenish-white color. 
It was a great moment. For the first time in 
my life I had met the evening grosbeaks, and had 
