Bethel, Maine.
1902.
January 4.
  Clear and cold with strong N.W. wind. Ther. -6 at day-
break, +6 at 2 P.M.
  In the forenoon the Doctor and I took a long tramp on
snow shoes in the Glen Woods revisiting all the old familiar
haunts. It was reassuring to find these beautiful woods
wholly unchanged or at least unmarred. The numerous sheltered
openings were as sunny and attractive as ever, the little
brooks murmured and gurgled beneath their coverings of snow
and ice, the tall white and red pines, the sturdy rough-barked
hemlocks, the needle-pointed balsams, and the olive-green
arbor vitae had simply added the growth of another year to
their already generous proportions.
  There seemed to be more birds than there were at any
time last winter. We saw no less than four flocks of Chickadees
containing respectively 2, 3, 5 and 6 birds. Some of
them were in evergreen woods, others among gray birches. I
saw them eating both birch and hemlock seeds. In each flock
there was a bird (why is there never more than one?) which
quickly responded when I gave the phoebee whistle and after a
little while became excited and eager, flitting close about
me, alighting within a few feet of my head and answering all
my calls with spirit and promptness. I see no difference in
habits, behavior or general appearance between these
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