SOME WINTER VISITORS 
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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 a 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 
