THE DRAWBRIDGE. 285 



Then there are the two kinglets, wren-like in all their 

 ways ; wee bits of impatience, wrapped in light-brown 

 feathers. They climb and twitter among the tall trees, 

 and at times dip down to the very ground to snap their 

 little beaks in the cat's-ears ; then, clutching a twig, will 

 sometimes warble a bar or two of some half-forgotten 

 summer song before mounting to the tall tree's very 

 top and launching into dreary space, regardless alike of 

 wind or rain, of sleet or snow. 



Two titmice — cheerful birds the world would sadly 

 miss ; the lordly tomtit, with his jaunty crest ; the merry 

 chickadee — the former making the woods ring with his 

 earnest invitation to ramble therein : here — here — here ! 

 the latter ever wiusome as it chirps, in more subdued 

 tones, chich-a-dee-dee — dee-dee; winter no terror has for 

 me-^-for me. 



Titmice will never allow you to be lonely if you walk 

 in the woods. They are honestly pleased with your 

 presence, and mean every chirp and twitter as a hearty 

 welcome. They will follow you at times, and when 

 they flit from bush to bush it is not to avoid you, but 

 lead you on — guide you to the pleasant places, to the 

 tallest trees, the warmest, cosiest corners. Evolution 

 did itself honor in producing such a bird. 



And we have two nuthatches — marked features of a 

 winter day. They are near cousins, creatures of like 

 tastes, and, happily, never at loggerheads. One has a 

 ruddy waistband — if a bird has a waist — the other is 

 clad beneath in white; by this you may know them. 

 All day long, and even far into the moonlight night, 

 these birds clatter over the crisp, frost-nipped bark of 



