Voi. xin 
l8q5 J 
Brewster on the Pine Grosbeak. 
247 
approximation to the total number which we made two hundred 
and twenty-five. There were perhaps twenty-five to forty more 
scattered about on neighboring spruces and the roofs of houses. 
A part of the flock was distributed over the sidewalks for a 
distance of several rods, feeding on the fallen seeds. As we 
advanced slowly the Grosbeaks flew between or alighted on the 
wires of the low fence within arm’s reach. One even attempted 
to perch on my companion’s shoulder, but he moved at the 
critical moment and it glanced to one side. Over the fence 
where most of the flock was feeding, the snow was so light and 
feathery that the birds sank into it deeply and wallowed rather 
than hopped from place to place. They appeared to enjoy this, 
and often fluttered their wings in such a way as to scatter the 
snow above and around them as bathing birds scatter drops of 
water. Many flying down from the trees above struck the snow 
with such force as to plump in quite up to their necks, when they 
stood thus for half a minute or more. 
During the same day a flock of fully three hundred Grosbeaks 
were reported from the Botanic Gardens, equally distant from 
each of the two flocks described above; if the birds were as 
numerous in other parts of the city, Cambridge must have har- 
bored several thousands. 
The next morning the great flock at the two ash trees had 
decreased to a hundred birds, who were all on the ground finishing 
the fallen seeds. They began leaving the place in small parties 
while I was watching them, and at four o’clock that afternoon 
only about twenty-five remained. 
On the 13th, I spent most of the forenoon in the cedar-grown 
pastures which encircle the suburbs of Cambridge. I heard a 
few Grosbeaks piping but could not find them. On examining 
the cedar trees, I could not discover one that had more than a 
few scattered berries. A report from Wellesley Hills, under date 
of January 14, showed a similar departure of the Grosbeaks from 
that region, and a like explanation, — the stripped condition of 
the food-bearing trees. 
During their invasion of Cambridge the Grosbeaks seem to 
have concentrated their attacks on the white ash trees, and to 
have taken these successively, although the smaller flocks foraged 
