WINTER BIRDS II 



ing yellow-legs down to our decoys. 

 There is a chorus of plaintive whistles 

 from the heavens ; then with a " whir " a 

 flock of pine grosbeaks alight amid the 

 pines. Among the chrome yellow marked 

 young males and females we catch sight 

 of a few exquisite rosy adult males. They 

 have arrived, they are everywhere in the 

 elms, spruces and barberry bushes. The 

 incessant crackling of their bills as they 

 split bud after bud, or the chaft" on the 

 ground betrays their presence. You might 

 have tramped many a mile yesterday and 

 not have seen a bird, but they have come 

 in the night by hundreds, dropping out of 

 a clear sky. 



The sun is sinking slowly in the west, 

 the bleak March wind is driving song 

 sparrow and junco to cover and the great 

 oaks stand out against the tinted sky. 

 This last fierce battle of winter does not 

 suggest the awaking of spring on the 

 morrow but the next moon will shine on a 

 new world, 



"while, through the veins of the earth, riots the 

 ichor of Spring." 



