pines are comparatively few. Here he may live, 

 for we have no cause to carry our war with him 

 into the barrens. 



There is a large clump of pines beyond Cubby 

 Hollow where I am always sure of a chickaree- 

 scolding. The moment I get within range one 

 of the little wretches will climb a tree and warn 

 me to keep out. He is instantly joined by 

 several others, and together they follow me over- 

 head, disputing every step with me, swaggering, 

 growling, and pouring forth a torrent of threat 

 and abuse until wheezy and winded. 



It is bluster, most of it ; they love to make a 

 noise. If I drop down at the foot of a low- 

 limbed pine, they gather round, anxious for a 

 look at me, close to. Once I remember that a 

 chipmunk joined them, and his daring lent them 

 courage. Then came an inquisitive little chick- 

 adee, behind whom one of the squirrels, now 

 only a bundle of curiosity, crept down within 

 reach of me, flattened himself to the trunk, and 

 began a running comment, a speculation as to 

 my character, in little broken snorts, sniffs, 

 coughs, and snickers, emphasizing it all with 

 jerky gesticulations of his tail. 

 [248] 



