242 CROSS-CUT VIEWS OF WINTER, 



little climber, and so much the color of tlie tree. 

 In certain favorable positions I see tbe gleam of 

 his pure white breast — as though Nature thought 

 it not worth her trouble to paint the underparts a 

 protective hue, his legs are so short — and his body 

 pressed closely to the bole. When he moves away, 

 he flies directly to the foot of another tree, and 

 begins his upward search. 



The nut-hatches, with hoarse voices, are saying, 

 " Humph ! humph ! " as if disgusted with the 

 scanty fare these upright tables afford. Their 

 scolding is in striking contrast to their sprightly, 

 good-natured gymnastics as they move lightly 

 here and there on the sides of the trunks, heads 

 downwards and sideways, gleaning what the super- 

 ficial creeper leaves behind. Into the fissures and 

 crevices of the bark have crawled troops of ants 

 that lay huddled together in their winter's sleep. 

 Thousands of fat grubs, plump sacks of spider's 

 eggs, numerous wood mites and aphides have been 

 nicely stowed away in almost every cranny and 

 crease, just for the purpose of feeding, it would 

 seem, these hungry little feathered bark-searchers 

 and meat-eaters. 



It is a wonder that the store of parasites is not 

 exhausted before the winter is ended, there are so 



