112 
OUR BIRDS IN WINTER. 
discovering this safe retreat, one of my remain- 
ing chicks entered beneath the log, and jumped 
on a low stick that offered a comfortable perch 
for him. At the instant the log fell with a 
crash upon him, and he was killed, — it was 
but another sort of trap, the stick he jumped 
on being the key to it. 
You may imagine the consternation we 
were in. On every side a trap seemed to offer 
its deathly embrace, — we knew not where to 
turn. With the greatest haste we flew from 
the spot, and until late in the winter we fre- 
quented no place in the woods that would be 
likely to be visited by man. At last, I was 
robbed of my two remaining children by a 
cruel snow-storm, and I have wandered until 
now alone.” 
How could your young ones be killed in 
a snow-storm?” inquired Woodcock. “I 
thought you Grouse strong enough to be able 
to weather almost any storm ; you know I 
pass my winters in the south, and know noth- 
ing of the extreme rigors of your winter.” 
You have doubtless heard,” answered 
