NOVEMBER DAYS 
23 
in the sunshine while a flock of snowbirds (Juncos) 
with their bright yellow bills and their slate grey 
heads and throats make merry among them. Down 
the trunk of the tree runs the white-breasted nut¬ 
hatch and his incessant tap-tap-tap gives emphasis 
to the stillness of the mild November morning. 
The savants say that there is no state in all the 
world more favored with bird-life than Iowa. The 
state lies in the embrace of two mighty rivers with 
many fine long tributaries and along and between 
these rivers the great flood of bird-life goes north¬ 
ward in the springtime and southward in the fall, 
filling the air with matchless music and charming 
the eye with incomparable color. In his “Kim” 
Kipling speaks of the Great Trunk Road as the 
highway for all sorts and conditions of Hindoo 
life; so Iowa is a highway for the vernal and the 
autumnal flood of bird-life. The robin and the 
hepatica, the blue bird and the spring beauty follow 
the springtime up the valleys; the hepatica and the 
spring beauty show their beauty no more until the 
next spring, but the robin and the blue bird pass 
through again late in the fall. 
A few robins are usually seen as late as the 
first week in November. Then there are some 
hardy little creatures which stay with us all winter 
though one must go to the woods to see them. 
Among them are the chickadee, the nuthatch, the 
waxwing, the American gold-finch, the blue jay, 
