ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



we feel we are intruding and wisli to walk 

 bareheaded into Nature's sanctum — win- 

 ter woods. 



Let us first greet our resident friends 

 and then the visitors — though perhaps 

 it would be more po- 

 lite to welcome the 

 weary travellers first. 

 We have ploughed 

 our way scarcely a 

 dozen yards when 

 from among the sere 

 weeds we catch the 

 sweet notes of a flock 

 of goldfinches. They 

 have donned their 

 winter garments too 

 and are gleaning a morning meal in truly 

 boreal style. A flock of crows flap slowly 

 by, their dark shadows on the snow be- 

 traying them. They are wanderers now 

 and must depend for their livelihood on 

 the beach where the kind ocean leaves its 

 bounty or on orchard or field where un- 

 gathered apples, corn and vegetables can 

 be mined in the snow. 



We have reached a thicket of cat brier 

 with alders bordering it, and hear 



