A WINTRY WILDERNESS. 
241 
Our way led for a mile through the level 
fields of the intervale. Five or six farmhouses 
or wood-cutters’ huts faced the straight road. 
At almost every house a few birds were seen, 
probably parts of the main flock. We also 
caught a glimpse of a large flock of snow-bunt¬ 
ings flying helter-skelter over a field where yel¬ 
low grasses were waving above the snow. At 
length our road came to an end at the banks of 
Swift River near the upper end of the intervale. 
The river was shallow, and so was a broad 
brook flowing into it at this point. The latter 
we found no great difficulty in crossing dry- 
shod, by going from one pile of stones and ice 
to another. Beyond the stream we entered a 
bit of primeval forest, only partly destroyed by 
lumbermen of an earlier generation, who seem 
to have been less grasping than their successors. 
In these woods we heard bird voices, and recog¬ 
nized the “ quank , quanJc ” of the red-bellied 
nuthatch, and the u chicJc-a-dee-dee-dee” of the 
titmouse. To call them nearer I hooted like 
an owl, and soon after, sharp alarm whistles 
almost exactly like those of a robin came from 
some unknown birds in a bunch of firs at a dis¬ 
tance. Upon hooting again, I was pleasantly 
surprised to get a reply from a barred owl. A 
moment or so later we heard blue jays scolding 
him not far away. 
