SOME WINTER VISITORS 309 



in the greatest imaginable contrast to the well-drilled 

 flocks of Plover that sailed along the shore two months 

 ago. On the snow-sprinkled sand among the dead 

 weeds the Snowbird, with his profusion of white 

 and pale brown, becomes almost invisible. He walks 

 about quickly, but with a serious gait, sometimes 

 shaking the seeds from a withered pod, but generally 

 directing his attention to the ground. He moves 

 rapidly away if any familiarity is manifested. The 

 rise of the flock is as sudden as its descent. Where 

 only two or three could be seen walking about, a 

 score rise in the air, flitting up and down along the 

 shore as aimlessly as the inanimate snowflakes carried 

 past by the wind. 



The Grosbeak came early and is making a long 

 visit, so long that he is losing his innocent confidence 

 in humanity. His trust has been so often abused that 

 he is growing suspicious, although he still prefers 

 the crowded city to the suburban woods. There is no 

 more leisurely and indulgent feaster than the Gros- 

 beak, and the way he regales himself on the seeds 

 of the Mountain-ash berries and small Crab-apples 

 without wiping his bill or regarding the cleanliness 

 of his feathers shows that the privations of his 

 northern home have cultivated n demoralising 

 appetite. It is hard to watch a Grosbeak on a Moun- 

 tain-ash tree for half an hour and retain a sincere 

 respect for him. But all the northern visitors are 



