FIELD AND STUDY 



ferently in all directions. Its soft nasal call in the 

 spring woods is one of the most welcome of sounds. 

 It is like the voice of children, plaintive but con- 

 tented, a soft interrogation in the ear of the sylvan 

 gods. What a contrast to the sharp, steely note of 

 the woodpeckers — the hairy's like the metallic 

 sounds of the tinsmith and Downy's a minor key 

 of the same! 



But the woodpeckers have their drums which 

 make the dry limbs vocal, and hint the universal 

 spring awakening in a very agreeable manner. The 

 two sounds together, the childish "Yank, yank," 

 of the nuthatch, and the resonant "Bat-tat-tat" 

 of Downy, are coincident with the stirring sap in 

 the maple trees. The robin, the bluebird, the song 

 sparrow, and the phcebe have already loosened the 

 fetters of winter in the open. It is interesting to note 

 how differently the woodpeckers and the nuthatches 

 use their beaks in procuring their food. Downy's 

 head is a trip-hammer, and he drives his beak into 

 the wood by short, sharp blows, making the chips 

 fly, while the nuthatch strikes more softly, using his 

 whole body in the movement. He deb vers a kind of 

 feathered blow on the fragment of nut which he has 

 placed in the vise of the tree's bark. My little red- 

 breast, previously referred to, caine down on a nut 

 in the same way, with a pretty extra touch of the 

 flash of his wings at each stroke, as the wood- 

 chopper says "Hah!" when sending his axe home. 

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