OLD FRIENDS IN NEW PLACES 
on every one of them. Rarely is a single hair out of 
place. 
How wise the white-throats are about cracked 
corn, taking nothing above a certain size! They 
pick up the larger pieces and test them with their 
beaks and drop them, then pick them up and feel 
them again to be quite sure they have made no mis- 
take. Their little gizzards cannot grind the flinty 
corn except when taken in very small bits. The 
fruit- and insect-eating birds that sometimes come 
about your door in winter or spring with the white- 
throats will examine the seeds and bits of corn, but 
will not eat them. One February a flock of white- 
throats and juncoes came daily to the dooryard of a 
friend of mine near New York City. She sprinkled 
the ground with rolled oats and hominy grits and 
her visitors made the most of her bounty. One 
morning there was a newcomer — a thrush evi- 
dently hard put for food. He hopped about amid the 
feeding sparrows with drooping wings, picking up 
the seeds and grains and dropping them again, ap- 
parently wondering what the others found that was 
so appetizing. The bird was in desperate straits; he 
ate the snow, but I fancy it only aggravated his 
hunger. 
The newcomer turned out to be a hermit thrush. 
I told my friend to take any dried fruit she happened 
to have — raisins, dried currants, dried cherries, or 
dried berries, and cut them up and sprinkle them 
93 
