208 
SOME WINTER VISITORS 
The little Redpolls are here, manoeuvring in 
comfortable flocks along the lake shore* They seem 
scarcely able to remain still long enough to gather a 
few clinging or scattered seeds* The quiet, cold 
monotony of a sportsman's wait for a flock of Bluebills 
is suddenly broken by the fluttering of little wings* 
The Redpolls have come out of nowhere* The flock 
darts hither and thither in an inextricable entangle- 
ment of changes, and settles into sudden stillness on 
an adjacent clump of scrub Willows* But the still- 
ness is only apparent, for their intricate activity on 
the wing has been changed to a bright restlessness 
among the concealing twigs near the ground. They 
are apparently as modest in attire as the Sparrows, 
for their purple-red crowns are scarcely visible on 
account of their unceasing motion* The males have 
also a scarcely noticeable pink tint on their breasts* 
The light wing bar, forked tail, and sharp, conical 
bill are distinctive features* Little flocks rise as 
suddenly as they alighted, turn this way and that in 
mixed unanimity, and scurry away as if an adverse 
fate impended over the hindmost* 
Snowbirds are careening along the shore, always 
as joyful as children released from school. Hither 
and thither, up and down, intoxicated by the joy of 
aimless flight, the passing flock are intermingling 
with bewildering irregularity* Suddenly they execute 
a turning movement, mixing up and fluttering down 
