4 OUR WINTER BIRDS 



foraging in the afternoon they must go to bed hun- 

 gry- 



When we draw the shades in summer there is 

 warmth outside as well as in. The leaves seem to 

 rustle contentedly in the night breeze. A Robin is 

 singing his slumber song. Soon a Whip-poor-will 

 will begin his chant. 



All's well now with the birds. We envy them 

 their sleep beneath the stars, the awakening in the 

 dawn; their freedom. to wander at will and choose 

 from Nature's bountiful stores. Who would not be 

 a bird in summer? 



But a winter night in the open seems chill and 

 dreary. We pity the homeless and wish we could 

 give them firesides like our own. So in the winter 

 the birds seem to need our care and to be in some 

 way dependent upon us. For this reason they oc- 

 cupy a much warmer place in our affections than do 

 the birds of summer. Our relations with them seem 

 more intimate. 



The twittering Juncos at our doorstep, the Nut- 

 hatches and Woodpeckers at our suet-baskets, the 

 Chickadees that take food from our hands, are not 

 only our welcome guests but our personal friends. 



It is not only what we give them, but what they 

 give us, that should make us thankful for birds in 

 winter. I look from my window over the white ex- 



