88 DAYS OUT OF BOORS. 



cies ; and many of these — like the crow, grakle, and king- 

 fisher, and, I may add, the bittern, which only gave us 

 two thirds of a " boom " — scarcely count as birds at all, so 

 hopelessly prosaic is their every utterance. But many, 

 although persistently silent, and several that timidly 

 broke the silence, were not without interest. Once, in a 

 sunny nook, among chestnut sprouts, my companion and 

 I found not only shelter from the icy wind, but birds 

 and blossoms in abundance. Snowy toothwort and bud- 

 ding mandrake — both notable growths — quite covered the 

 ground ; while ruby-crowned wrens thronged the adjoin- 

 ing thickets, active as ever, but warbling only in a half- 

 hearted way. Not once did they sing out with that wealth 

 of energy characteristic of them in their summer haunts, 

 and as they occasionally venture to do here in New Jer- 

 sey during mild winter days. From their golden-crested 

 cousins — that at this time largely outnumber them — ^they 

 can readily be recognized, even when not seen, by their 

 more varied song, " lively, animated strains of canary-like 

 sweetness and clearness." 



It has recently been denied that this bird winters in 

 New Jersey. Probably this impression arose from obser- 

 vations made in the northern hilly section of the State. 

 One might as well attempt to study the equator by camp- 

 ing on the shores of Baffin's Bay. 



Because those birds which we hoped to find were not 

 here, the days were not lost in sulking. There was always 

 sound if not music, and sound is always suggestive. As 

 we rested upon the soft cushions of well-matted leaves, 

 the bee-like Euryomia hummed about us — a beetle of 

 which I knew nothing, having, if I saw it at all, supposed 

 it to have come directly from the hives or a hollow tree. 

 At times the dead leaves rustled where song-sparrows and 

 chewinks scratched among them for food, and at once 



