86 
OUR BIRDS IN WINTER. 
Relate the incident, and I will give an 
experience that I once had,” added one of 
the Chick-a-dees. 
It happened at a long distance from here,” 
answered the Wren, in what is called the 
Hudson’s Bay country. You know that my 
wife and myself passed last spring and sum- 
mer there, and reared a family of four young 
ones. It was on one June day that I was 
searching the woods for materials for our nest. 
I had found an old dead wolf that had been 
shot and wounded, and had strayed off by it- 
self and died. I had pulled several bunches 
of hair from liis hide, and carried them to our 
nest, and was returning for more, when behind 
a large rock I saw a panther crouching, appar- 
ently watching for some approaching object. 
At the same instant I heard a twig crack, and 
looking in the direction of the sound, saw Mr. 
Littleton, the naturalist connected with one of 
the trading posts of that country, drawing 
near, his gaze directed on the tree above him, 
following a Red-Poll Warbler to its nest. I 
knew if he followed the bird any further in my 
