146 Ways of Wood Folk. 



at the left, scurries along the rails and up and down the 

 posts. He goes like a little red whirlwind, though he 

 has nothing whatever to hurry about. Just opposite my 

 stump he stops his rush with marvelous suddenness ; 

 chatters, barks, scolds, tries to make me move ; then 

 goes on and out of sight at the same breakneck rush. 

 A jay stops a moment in a young hickory above the 

 fence to whistle his curiosity, just as if he had not 

 seen it fifty times before. A curiosity to him never 

 grows old. He does not scream now ; it is his nest- 

 ing time. — And so on through the afternoon. The 

 old fence is becoming a part of the woods ; and every 

 wild thing that passes by stops to get acquainted. 



I was weaving an idle history of the old fence, 

 when a chickadee twittered in the pine behind me. 

 As I turned, he flew over me and lit on the fence 

 in front. He had something in his beak ; so I 

 watched to find his nest ; for I wanted very much 

 to see him at work. Chickadee had never seemed 

 afraid of me, and I thought he would trust me now. 

 But he did n't. He would not go near his nest. 

 Instead he began hopping about the old rail, and 

 pretended to be very busy hunting for insects. 



Presently his mate appeared, and with a sharp note 

 he called her down beside him. Then both birds 

 hopped and twittered about the rail, with apparently 

 never a care in the world. The male especially 



