Department of Orthnithology 
Under the Direction of the Committees on Bird Preservation and Propagation. 
National Association of Gardeners, L. H. Jensen, St. Louis, Mo., Chairman. 
American Association of Park Superintendents, Hermann Merkel, New York, Chairman. 
STUDYING THE BIRDS IN WINTER.* 
WINTER makes bird study an easy matter. The 
perplexities of the autumn migration with 
the scores of species passing through from 
the north, the young birds in their peculiar attire, 
the old ones in the drabs and browns that some 
affect for winter wear in place of their vivid summer 
plumage, are gone on. The good old stand-bys, all-year 
friends, remain and are recognized without much diffi- 
culty. Moreover, the cold and snow tend to make them 
more friendly and familiar than in summer. 
The chickadee may have refused our proffered nest- 
ing-box in May and taken his bride to the birches of the 
wood-margin and there fed and educated the family. But 
in December he is pretty sure to bring them to the gar- 
den, foraging among the sunflower and chicory planted 
there for him. The family will explore the trees for in- 
sect larvae and eggs and remembered store of suet hung 
there last winter. With them will, no doubt, appear the 
white-breasted nuthatches, curious acrobats of the bird 
world, the downy woodpeckers and the brown creepers. 
They seek similar food on the same trees, and often one 
may note the distinct and invariable characteristics of 
the different birds at the same time. The chickadees flit 
from twig to twig, head up or head down as the need 
occurs, careless of attitude. Not so the woodpeckers. 
They may be capricious of movement, but their perch is 
always in the most correct form, upright, head back, tail 
down. Most methodical of all is the prim little brown 
creeper. He alights at the foot of the tree, works primly 
upward and swings a swift parabola from near the top 
to the base of the next one. 
And then comes along the nuthatch, and reverses the 
brown creeper's action. He alights near the top of the 
tree and "yank yanks" himself downward. The chick- 
adee does not object to being upside down, but the 
nuthatch insists on it. If a limb is to be explored he 
goes to the tip of it and works toward the trunk. But 
when he finds a chestnut, then is the time he shows this 
characteristic most prominently. The nuthatch deserves 
his name. Hatch is early English for chop, and he knows 
how to chop nuts open. When the crop is good, chest- 
nuts may be found on the ground beneath the trees all 
winter. 
It is fun to watch a nuthatch at work on one of these. 
He will eye the ground from his upside-down perch on 
the tree trunk much as a squirrel does and run down in 
quite the same way to pick up the big brown nut in his 
slender bill. Then he goes back to the tree and finds a 
V-shaped corrugation in the bark which will hold the nut 
— his chopping-block. Then he proceeds to "hatch" it. 
You might not think that slender bill had much chopping 
edge, or the little gray-blue, black and white bird much 
chopping power, but there is no chestnut that can with- 
stand the nuthatch. The nut may leap from the block a 
dozen times. He'll run down and get it again, placing 
it in the same groove, and in the end he'll split his way 
through the tough rind and get at the delicious meat 
within. 
( )ne winter day I watched one do this. It took him 
•Winthrop Packard, 
IHnuli Animals." 
secretary Massachusetts Audubon Society, in "Our 
half an hour to get at his luncheon. Then he feasted 
royally. And then he turned a joyous handspring to the 
topmost twig of the tall tree and went to bed. The 
nuthatch, like most hole-nesting birds, seeks a hole in a 
tree or a nesting-box for shelter through the long bitter 
winter nights. But this was merely an after-dinner nap 
and the bird took it in the most curious way. He hung 
himself head downward by one claw, fluffed out his 
feathers till he looked not at all like a bird and hung 
there for thirty minutes. So far as I could make out 
with the bird glass he was fast asleep. His curious atti- 
tude probably made for safety, for he looked far more 
like a brown-tail moth nest or a tangled fluff of plant- 
down than like a bird. By and by he waked up, tasted 
the remnant of his feast, turned up his nose at it, and 
went hand-springing off to another tree. The nuthatch 
is the goblin acrobat of the winter woods and his ways 
are a constant source of joy to the watcher. 
The blue jay and crow are free-booters, none too well 
liked by the smaller birds and for good reason. The 
crow thrives in the midst of civilization, but long remem- 
bers man's enmity and keeps well out of gunshot in most 
times and places. But the jay — saucy rascal — comes to 
the house and jeers at us. He may build a nest on a 
bough near your window edge and repay your tolerance 
by eating the eggs of the song-sparrow in the nest in the 
shrubbery by the front door. The jay is a bold bird and 
ought to be kept in the depths of the wood where he be- 
longs and where he has his uses. But in winter the small 
birds are safe and we are apt to admire his saucy ways 
and his handsome plumage and welcome him to the feed- 
ing-station. He will come to the window itself if you 
encourage him. In return you will do well to keep the 
suet well tied down or he will fly away with the whole 
lump. 
You may not know the goldfinches when they come 
for the hemp and sunflower seeds which most people put 
out for them, at least not at first glimpse, for the gold- 
finch has lost much of his gold with the passing of sum- 
mer. The black is still conspicuous on his cap, wings 
and tail, but only a little of the yellow glows through 
the drab and brown of his lesser feathers. He is the 
same sprightly chap, however, and twitters merrily as he 
feeds, showing the way to the siskins which often flock 
with his clan. The goldfinches love chicory seeds, and 
a garden plot full of these blue-eyed perennials will be 
golden with goldfinch.es as long as the seed lasts. 
Yet, whatever the changes of plumage and habits are, 
our all-year birds are quite easily recognized and witli 
them the amateur bird student soon becomes familiar. 
When the cold has come to stay and the real winter is 
upon us he who hunts with an opera-glass may yet find 
bird wonders waiting for him in field and wood, for the 
cold and diminishing food supply often send birds of the 
far north to us. The snowy owl and the white gyrfalcon 
may sweep on broad pinions over the snowy wastes, 
bringing a touch of arctic weirdness to the scene. The 
northern shrike may hang a meadow mouse in his im- 
provised larder in the thorn hedge, for all these are oc- 
casional winter visitants. 
More likely to be seen, however, and indeed more wel- 
come, are the pine grosbeaks. Something of the aurora 
(Continued on pa^c 40.) 
