In March last I witnessed a scene which convinced me that the 

 saying "misery loves company" is as truly applicable to birds as 

 to men< It was a keen, frosty morning in the third week of the 

 month, a day as typical of midwinter as any that January brings 

 us, for the snow still lay deep and firm upon the ground and 

 neither lakes nor streams had thawed ; while the dry, thin air, 

 though stirred by no wind, was so intensely cold that I was 

 forced to walk very briskly and administer frequent rubs to nose 

 and cheeks to keep at all comfortable. Passing along a suburban 

 road about sunrise, my attention was attracted by the note of a 

 Robin, which I soon discovered perched on a tree near by, wear- 

 ing an appearance of utter wretchedness. His body was con- 

 tracted as if by pain, his feathers were ruffled, and his head 

 drooped. At long intervals he gave voice to a feeble, sad-toned 

 note, and crouching thus, shivering with cold, hungry no doubt, 

 and forlorn, appeared, physically and morally, but the ghostly 

 shadow of that sprightly and vivacious Robin Redbreast that 

 had filled the air with his blithesome carol in the happy spring- 

 time. As I stood watching him I heard another note. Robin 

 heard it also, and arousing a little called back. The new note 

 was repeated and I recognized the voice as that of a Red- 

 eyed Vireo, which I detected searching for a breakfast on the 

 leafless branches of a distant birch. Robin's appearance was 

 at once changed ; his body and head were held erect, his 

 feathers smoothed, and his voice rang out clear and strong. After 

 a few more calls and a few strains of song both birds flew to a 

 tree about mid-way between their first positions, and on approach- 

 ing it to obtain a more certain identification of the Vireo, I found 

 the pair sitting side by side on the same limb, their faces turned 

 toward the newly-risen sun, singing away as merrily as if cold and 

 hunger were unknown to them, or at least uncared for. They 

 seemed indeed a joyous pair, yet there was something singu- 

 larly pathetic in their very happiness. Possibly the Robin might 

 contend successfully against the severity of our weather, as I have 

 known many of his race to do before him. But the Green- 

 lets ordinarily remain with us only during the warmest weather 

 and this thoughtless fellow would, I feared, be unable to with- 

 stand the cold without a generous supply of insect food, which 

 he would find it impossible to obtain. 



After all, mused I, as I turned away, leaving the oddly assorted 

 pair still singing, what better ending for such a life as a bird's 

 could be desired ! The cold-benumbed brain registers no pain, 

 nor creates other than pleasing fancies. And how appropriate a 

 death for so fiiiry-like a creature — to fall peacefully asleep upon 

 the virgin snow, with the wind weaving over his stiffening form 

 a shroud of glittering crystals. 



Bull N.O.O. S.Jaa. ISaa.p, J0~// 



