810 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
road and the open meadow; paseing- Just to tbe right of 
that strip of timber, we get over tbe ferce pt tbe barway 
and are in tbe celebratf d "Jacieon cover." In front of 
us is an extensive, rather stpfp pidt hill, covered vsfith a 
dense growth of birches, inteTfp^rsed with aider runs, 
and all through tbe whole is a fart-y lot of briars that cnly 
mortal terror or prcppect of eport would pronipt a sane 
mortal to face. At the foot of the bI- p^, nestled in the 
deep valley, are the bright waters of L ad Mine Pond, a 
small but beautiful sheet of crystal, from whose depths 
may still be coaxed fat and almost golden colored 
pickerel that are acfually good to eat, which is more than 
can be truthfully said of many of their kin from other 
waters. You must pardon this digression, as I cannot for- 
bear a tribute to the gamy qualities and toothsome excel- 
lence of these beautiful denizens of this beautiful sheet of 
water. 
In the cool depths of the alder runs, and all through 
tbe growth of Ijirches, woodcock loved to lirger, and 
many famous bags were made bfre. Mr. Aebraun told 
me that once when here with Uncle Aaron Howe, just 
after a heavy storm, they found upwards of seventy-live 
birds, and, added be, "if we bad rot both of ue got rattled 
we would have beaten your record; but notwithstanding 
our wretched perrcrmaiice, we succeeded in counting out 
fifty -eight." Messrs. Bowles and S ibin once scored forty- 
three here, and I have upon several occasions assisted in 
bringing to bag upwards of thirty birds. Grouse were 
generally fairly abundant here, but it was often impos- 
sible to find a wing-broken bird, as they would make for 
the brier thickets, and succeed in eectping from the most 
courageous dog. Once when here we flushed a wild bird 
several times that invariably fl-w in a half circle to the 
left instead of keeping a straight course, as is the almost 
invariable habit of the grouse. Finallr we succeeded in 
bringing it down, and upon examination we found that 
the left wing had been broken and the bnnes bad lapped 
over each other and grown firmly tcgfther. makiug a 
strong job, but leaving the wing nearly Sin. shorter than 
its mate, whi^h accounted for the erratic flight that had 
puzzled us. Upon our return to tbe team, for three or 
four years we were invariably waylaid by a half-bred 
bull dog owned by Mr. Jackson, who lived in the house 
just above. Tais dog had a most portentous bark, 
and a growl that was decidf d'y suggestive of aggressive 
unpleasantness, as, with bristling hair and upraised 
tail, he prowled arnund us, swearing at our dogs and evi- 
dently bent upon their destruction; but we kept them 
close to heel, and nearly always succeeded in getting 
them safely through the threatened trouble. Qace when 
Mr. Wesson was there the brute c^ame out before the 
cover was reached, and seizing poor Andy gave him a 
terrific shaking bpfore he cruld be released, I have 
often heard Mr, Wesson recount the incidents of that 
day. The cover was literally alive with woodcock, and 
although the dog could do no work he and bis compan- 
ion walked up the birds and brought to bag a number 
nearly up to the top score. This was the last time that 
we were molested by that dog. II(3w he came to his end 
I do not know, but I heard it whisper* d that some one 
had heard a scrimmage at the edge of the cover at once 
followed by a single shot, and it was the belief that at 
this time the bark of the worthless brute was wafted to 
the other shore. Whoever it was, 1 can confidently assure 
him that sportsmen who irfquented the place, and sun- 
dry parties who had occasion to travel that road would 
unanimously have given him a vote of thanks for his 
well timed shot. Shadow, 
[to be concluded ] 
WOODLAND BIRD NOTES.— V. 
At Christmas-Tide. 
BT EDWIIT IRVISE HAINES, 
"The whole world ia a ChPlstmas tree. 
And stars its many ca-ndle8 be, . 
Oh I sing a carol j ly fully, 
The year's great feast in keeping." 
Whatever the calendar may say about winter coming 
in on the first of this month {->t, more correctly, the 21at), 
our feelings do not cross the winter line until the first 
heavy snowst rm. No matter how cold it may be, or bow 
many light snowstorms or flurries we may have, it is not 
until we wake up some morning to find deep snow on the 
ground that we real ze that winter has her cold grip on ua 
again. The weather has been very mild this year (until 
this recent cold snap), enticing many of our migrants to 
remain with us, while the cold weather is dr-ving many 
boreal birds southward, as ' Ximpl^ the incursion of gos- 
hawks into Connecticut. Winter is like the old Njree 
poetry, "ragged and jagged, and barbarously grand." 
There is a certain fascination in the unique and austere 
realities of this bleak and forbidding season, and from a 
naturalist's point of view the well known words of 
Shakespeare are aprcp^ya — ''Now is the winter of our dis- 
content." Until one stands in the depths of the woods in 
midwinter one does rppreciate how rare and peculiarly 
impresHivri is the sense of absolute silencp — the soundless, 
deathly quiet in earth and air, only bruken at long int r- 
vals by t le cawing of some distant crow, the hammering 
of a woodpecker upon some far off tree, the sudden mer- 
riment of the chickadee, or the melancholy see-e-eep of 
the brown creeper, as helaborinualy climhg a tree near by; 
but it is gone in an instant— the sound engulfed in an 
ocean of frozen silence. 
There is a potency in the sense of utter desolation in 
the soundless forest on a winter day that is hardly sur- 
passed by any display of nature's most tremendous ener- 
gies. Nothing seems more aptly to symboliz3 the spirit 
of winter in its gluom, isolation and grandeur than the 
lone sea-gull pursuing its mjignifioent fl ght over the tur- 
bulent waters bafore a darkly gathering storm. Tue 
bleak, wild seines of winter life, siuh as the driving 
snowstorm, the somber landscape, the noiseless passage 
of a hawk araid the trees, the cutting, icy wind that 
sways the letflcss boughs with dismal creak amid 
"Bare, ruined oboira, where late the sweat birds saag; 
the moaning pines, the cold light of day, and the still 
colder and quickly gathering darknesj; these, and all 
other ghostly things that contribute to nature's annual 
burial, f orm^an incomparable background on which ^to 
project tbe tone and temper of all other seasons of the 
year; the j ly of epring, the luxuriance of summer, and 
the glory of autumn. The peculiarity of the weather this 
year, however, has shown some strange features in bird 
life. Thebluej'sys are still here (New R ichelle) in large 
numbers, oausmg the woods to resound with their un- 
earthly yells, and causing us to think of warmer days 
when we get a glimp-ie at their brightly-hued plumage. 
No(vand then large flacks of robins pass by, and fre- 
quently the sweet ti'U ally of the bluebirds falls on our 
ears. Cedar waxwinga are numerous in the pine forests, 
and large flocks of pine finches and redpolls are often ob- 
served in the same places. As late as Dec. 1 I have seen 
ruby-crowned kinglets; these little birds are migrants, 
that is, so books tells ua, but now it is time that all migra- 
tory birds were South long ago; therefore the late occur- 
rence of these birds here in December, and the statements 
of Dr C. C. Abbf't, who writes he has seen them as late 
as Christmas and New Year's in southern New Jersey and 
Delaware, lead us to question whether these birds are 
migrants or winter residents. Mr. Frank Chapman told 
me tbe latest fall record of the ruby-crowned kinglet was 
N>v. 34, 18S6, therefor*^ my record is the latest so far; but 
as Mr. Abbot only observes birds, and I was so unlucky 
as not to secure the kinglet, and the old saying that "a 
bird in the band is worth two in the bush" holds good 
among the Ecientific ornithologists of to-day, the record 
is not worth much (to them) I have found them with 
the golden crownei kinglet summering upon the slopes of 
the northwestern C.itskill Mountains at a distance of only 
175 miles from Ne ^v York city, at an elevation of 1.400ft. — 
Stamford, Delaware county, N. Y. (gee January Osprey), 
As everyone knows, the kinglets are closely allied, tae 
golden-crown being a winter resident and the ruby a 
migrant. There was a theory among older naturalists 
that these two kinglets were asf^ociated in their ways and 
in their range of nesting, but because the golden-crown 
was found summering only in tbe Northern States, and 
the ruby-crown far north of them, this theory was rather 
given up; but the occurrence of these two kinglets so far 
S juth in summer would tend to revive it. The golden- 
crown kinglet is a well-kmwn and familiar winter bird 
with us, and a very companionable little fellow he is. 
Though preferring evergreens, he is satisfied with shrub- 
bery of any kind, and will cheerfully pick his way through 
tangled vines, all tbe while singing, or trying to, which is 
just as well; for the simple sound shows what a cheerful 
heart tbe kinglet has. Whil« studying him this summer 
I had abundant opportunities to hear his love sens: a 
lipping sort of warble, beginning like that of Dendroica 
s/naiu (blaci- pill warbler) and winding up with a few 
sprightly notes similar to those of Dendroica virens 
(black-throated green warbler), and is sung very strong 
and clear for so small a bird. The golden-crown is very 
abundant this year at New II ichelle, while last year it 
was very scarce. Though companionable as they are, I 
do not like to see them so abundant, for this bird is not a 
fair-weather creature. The winters of 1892-93 were a 
proof of this; they were very cold and stormy, with much 
snow, and the kinglets were very abundant and did not 
seem to mind the cold in, the least. 
Leaving tbe kinglet, let us glance at another bird, 
almc Bt as email as they are, and who is as interesting and 
almcst as abundant at this season, In the "frozen 
North," where he is said to nest, he is called limmershin, 
but to us be is better known as winter wren. This little 
mite is always found either in tangled thickets or along 
stone walls, where he is so fond of drdging in and out. 
He is an active little fellow, never still a moment, and 
always on the go, uttering his mouse-like chirp all the 
while. But little limmershin is an entirely different sort 
of chap when he is in his summer home; though said to 
breed in Canada and Librador, he is an abundant sum- 
mer resident of tbe norihwestern Catskill Mountains. I 
found it in the northern part of Ulster county, and pretty 
well distributed in Delaware county. These birds are 
not oftf=n found in valleys, but prefer the higher valleys 
to the bigbetit m<^tintain tops; even the lofty summit of 
Slide Mountain, Ulster county (4,500ft.), is not too distant 
ft.r its tiny wings. It hsbiis the roaring mountain 
brooks, where his beautiful melody always tells his pres- 
ence before you see him. And what a singer this wren 
Is, though his song is peculiar. The notes tremble OTer 
each other in the true wreii manner, and the strain 
comes to an end so suddenly that you are likely to think 
that the bird has been interrupted; in the middle is a long 
indrawn note similar to one of the canary's. His habits 
and mannpr<? ara very much like those of the water ousel 
in the far West. 
Of all our winter birds the most abundant and best 
known is the slate-colored junco or snowbird. If 
you wish to know tbe habits of this bird all you have to 
do is to go into a field if you live in the country or into 
Central Park if in the city, and you are sure to see some, 
when you can easily watch them. At the end of April 
they begin to .go North to their summer home, which is 
said to be from the Narthern States northward. It ia, 
however, the moat abundant and universally distributed 
bird of the Catskills in summer. It is met with every- 
where, In the valleys it may be observed along the road- 
sides or even hopning about in the village streets as nu- 
merously as the Eaglish sparrows do in the icity, while it 
ia also found in woodland glades and penetrates the 
mountain forests to the highest altitudes, breeding univer- 
sally throughout its range. I found it abundant on the 
summit of M^unt Utsayantha (3 SoOFt. elevation), near 
Stamford, where I s-^curpd two speoimejig, with a nest 
and three eggs. July 7, 1896, The nest was situated in a 
small evergreen bush hear a spring; it was made of 
leaves and straw outside, while within it was lined with 
black horsehair, which gave it a very pretty appearance, 
lis song resembles tbe chippy's, but is louder and sweeter. 
The hairy woodpeckers are abundant on Hunter's 
Island, near New R jchelle, this year, though I have not 
heard or seen them in any of the woods on the main 
land. This woodpecker is a "r-^re and irregular" winter 
visitant in this part of New York State, though in the 
western part it is quite abundant. Its note ia a peculiar 
harsh rattle which resembles that of tbe kingfisher, and 
can be beard at a great distance. Severar times I have 
seen a species of "snipe" on the beaches of Hilnter's 
Island which I su'^pect is the purple sandpiper (TrinQa 
maritima) On Long Island this sandpiper is a rare 
but regular winter resident, and as this sandpiper is the 
only one here in winter it was probably this bird that I 
saw. On different occasions while on the island I have 
seen several small sparrows in the salt grass on the 
beaches, near tbe water, who tried to keep from sight as 
much as possible. It was only single individuals I saw 
until Dec 13, when I flushed a large flock of thetn. They 
scattered and disappeared from sight at once, which is so 
characteristic of the seaside sparrow, but the latter is 
only a summer resident here, therefore I knew at once 
that these birds were his winter cousin, called by natu- 
ralists the Ipswich sparrow. - 
The starlings are numerous all over Pelham Bay Park, 
and also upon the neighboring islands. During the 
warm spell we had the early part of this month I was 
coming home one evening past Pelham Manor, when I 
heard a bird in full song, which struck me as remarkable 
for this time of year. I at first thought it came from a 
neighboring house, but found my mistake when I saw a 
bird about the siza of a robin fly up into a tree and care- 
fully regard me. I thought at first it was a shrike, for 
its plumage was dingy white above and ashy beneath. 
As I approached near, it flew into a bush and twitched its 
tail about like a catbird, and broke forth once more into 
its entrancing song. And a catbird it was, or rather be- 
fore he fell from grace, but on account of its wonderful 
mimicking powers naturalists call him the mockingbird. 
But what brought him to this locality in December? He 
is a thorough S luthern species. It is quite the thing to 
explain his occasional appearance in winter by calling 
him and escaped caged bird. ■ . 
I have observed mockingbirds here in three consecutive 
winters, once in tbe middle of January after a heavy 
snowstorm during very cold weather; and there are nti- 
merous records for Central Park by different authorities. 
Now, though mockingbirds are favorites as cage birds, 
there are not so many of them in captivity or so many 
escape that two, three or more should be observed 
every winter near New York city. I am con- 
vinced, no matter what skeptics say to 4he con- 
trary, that in the present instance such a Bup- 
CHKI8TMA8 BVE 4T P0Rr,iDE3IBffi IS 1586. From "D« Bry'a, Voyages," prlotscl lo t69B. 
