WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH 13 



"Little snowbird in the tree," we used to 

 sing when I was in the First Grade ; but the tree 

 is not the place in which to look for Juncos. 

 Not so energetic as the Titmouse nor so lively 

 as the Wrens, not so prettily colored as the 

 Kinglet, nor so acrobatic as the Chickadee, these 

 plump, quiet little fellows are as welcome winter 

 companions as any that habitually come around 

 our homes. Their pleasant twitter and chirp is 

 never an obtrusive sound, and their clear brown 

 eyes have always an expression of innocent 

 friendliness, nearly like that of Doves. 



WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH 



"Yank-yank! yank-yank!" Here he comes, 

 head downward as usual, looking all over the 

 bark with his sharp eyes, pecking into crevices 

 with his sharp beak. Round and round the tree 

 he goes, circling some of the larger limbs, easily 

 taking all the attitudes of a fly on the ceiling. 

 What a neatly tailored appearance he makes in 

 his slate-gray close-fitting suit, with its pearly 

 vest and black markings, cut so squarely short 

 across the tail. 



The name of Nuthatch means that he will 

 wedge small nuts, such as beechnuts or chestnuts, 

 or large seeds like those of the sunflower, into 

 cracks in the bark, and hammer away at them 

 till he splits them open — a clever trick which 



