SNOW BUNTING 279 



to Massachusetts for their breakfasts. Not liking the 

 grain in this field, away they dash to another distant 

 one, attracted by the weeds rising above the snow. Who 

 can guess in- what field, by what river or mountain 

 they breakfasted this morning. They did not seem to 

 regard me so near, but as they went off, their wave 

 actually broke over me as a rock. They have the plea- 

 sure of society at their feasts, a hundred dining at once, 

 busily talking while eating, remembering what occurred 

 at Grinnell Land. As they flew past me they presented 

 a pretty appearance, somewhat like broad bars of white 

 alternating with bars of black. 



March 2, 1858. See a large flock of snow buntings, 

 the white birds of the winter, rejoicing in the snow. I 

 stand near a flock in an open field. They are trotting 

 about briskly over the snow amid the weeds, — appar- 

 ently pigweed and Roman wormwood, — as it were to 

 keep their toes warm, hopping up to the weeds. Then 

 they restlessly take to wing again, and as they wheel 

 about one, it is a very rich sight to see them dressed in 

 black and white uniforms, alternate black and white, 

 very distinct and regular. Perhaps no colors would be 

 more effective above the snow, black tips (considerably 

 more) to wings, then clear white between this and the 

 back, which is black or very dark again. One wonders 

 if they are aware what a pleasing uniform appearance 

 they make when they show their backs thus. They 

 alight again equally near. Their track is much like a 

 small crow's track, showing a long heel and furrowing 

 the snow between with their toes. 



Nov. 7, 1858. Going up the lane beyond Farmer's, 



