370 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



may almost be called the ever-reds. Their leaves, which 

 are falling all winter long, serve as a shelter to rabbits 

 and partridges and other winter quadrupeds and birds. 

 Even the little chickadees love to skulk amid them and 

 peep out from behind them. I hear their faint, silvery, 

 lisping notes, like tinkling glass, and occasionally a 

 sprightly day-day-day, as they inquisitively hop nearer 

 and nearer to me. They are our most honest and inno- 

 cent little bird, drawing yet nearer to us as the winter 

 advances, and deserve best of any of the walker. 



Feb. 9, 1854. I do not hear Therien's 1 axe far of late. 

 The moment I came on his chopping-ground, the chick- 

 adees flew to me, as if glad to see me. They are a pecul- 

 iarly honest and sociable little bird. I saw them go to 

 his pail repeatedly and peck his bread and butter. They 

 came and went a dozen times while I stood there. He 

 said that a great flock of them came round him the other 

 day while he was eating his dinner and lit on his clothes 

 " just like flies." One roosted on his finger, and another 

 pecked a piece of bread in his hand. They are consid- 

 erable company for the woodchopper. I heard one wiry 

 phe-be. They love to hop about wood freshly split. Ap- 

 parently they do not leave his clearing all day. They 

 were not scared when he threw down wood within a few 

 feet of them. When I looked to see how much of his 

 bread and butter they had eaten, I did not perceive that 

 any was gone. He could afford to dine a hundred. 



Jan. 7, 1855. Here comes a little flock of titmice, 

 plainly to keep me company, with their black caps and 



1 [Aleck Therien, the French-Canadian woodchopper celebrated in 

 Walden.] 



