AT THE FOOT OF PASSACONAWAY. 265 
this maximum of intensity their coloring graded 
downward through partial red markings on the 
one hand, and through gradually fading red 
markings on the other. 1 saw one bird with 
red on his rump only. The fading from red to 
yellow yielded many gradations of red and yel¬ 
low or orange down to pure gold. The brown 
birds were the more numerous, and they seemed 
to have various combinations of light and dark, 
with now and then suggestions of bright tints. 
In some individuals the mandibles crossed in 
one way, and in others the opposite way. In 
size the crossbills varied widely. Often, in 
glancing quickly at a group, I mistook the 
smaller, duller birds for pine finches. A dozen 
times in as many minutes the flock whirled up¬ 
wards and round and round, showering the air 
with their delicious medley music. Generally 
from three to six old birds remained in one of 
the two spruces near the fence by the trough, 
and a sharp call from them brought the flock 
down again like a fall of hail. 
When we had walked a mile up the valley a 
shower struck us, and we waited a few moments 
under the shelter of an old house from which 
the wall boards had been removed. We heard 
sweet bird notes, but could not locate the sing¬ 
ers. When we turned to go, however, a flock 
of sixteen snow-buntings rose from a field where 
