382 
Our Winter Birds. 
about fourteen. All the autumn through 
o 
they keep together, feeding from the 
same bushes, poke, ampelopsis, and oth¬ 
er wild berries, and upon such stray in¬ 
sects as they may find. 
The first cold days of December send 
them to the cedar swamps, where great 
numbers congregate. Here, too, large 
flocks of robins keep them company. 
But each mild day brings the bluebirds 
from their retreat back to their unfor¬ 
gotten home. And there is nothing 
more fascinating in bird life than to see 
the frolics of the young birds and the 
grave demeanor of the parents. The 
young visit the various houses in which 
they were reared, sometimes two or 
three entering at the same time, and 
all the while keeping up their low sweet 
twittering, as if conversing. 
But in the spring all is changed. 
The parents tell the young in a veiy 
peremptory manner that they must now 
seek new homefe. Sometimes the young 
are quite persistent about remaining, 
when the parents at last seem to become 
exasperated, and drive them fiercely 
from the premises. 
Diu'ing the summer of 1880, I was 
particularly interested in a pair of blue¬ 
birds which had the misfortune to rear 
but one brood of three during the sea¬ 
son. The young were hatched in a 
little house fastened to the railing of an 
upper piazza. They became quite tame, 
and remained with us until the first 
week in December. After this I saw 
them no more until the first day of Jan¬ 
uary, 1881, when, to my surprise, the 
entire family came to my study window, 
— a bay window, fronting south, — and 
perched upon the sill. The mercury 
stood fifteen degrees below zero on this 
morning, an unusual temperature for 
our latitude. 
I have found that an intensely cold 
day will drive both robins and bluebirds 
from their retreat in the cedars to our 
homes, as if they hoped for better pro¬ 
tection against the cold. 
[March, 
Our little family had accompanied a 
sorry-looking flock of forty or fifty blue¬ 
birds, with ruffled feathers, wliich had 
halted in the vineyard near the house 
on this bitter morning. 
By ten o’clock the sun shone brightly 
against the window glass, and the warm 
fire within helped to make the window¬ 
sill comfortable; and here all five of the 
birds perched, thus getting the full force 
of the sun’s rays. After basking awhile 
in the sun, their feathers smoothed down, 
and they seemed quite bright and hajD- 
py, and toward noon disappeared with 
the flock. Several times, on the coldest 
days, during this severe winter, this little 
family came to my window in the same 
manner. 
I could mention several other in¬ 
stances which have come under my ob¬ 
servation, in proof that the j)arent blue¬ 
birds, with their broods of the previous 
season, are a united family; but one 
more will suffice. 
The past summer, 1881, a pair of blue¬ 
birds occupied a box placed on a pro¬ 
jecting part of the cornice, in the rear 
of the house. After the first brood left 
the box, the parents soon commenced 
to tear out the old nest, preparatory 
for a second family in the same box. 
The second nest is usually built in some 
other place, in the vicinity of the first, 
and here was no lack of empty boxes 
for them to choose from ; but for some 
reason, known only to themselves, they 
were determined to occupy the house of 
their first choice, notwithstanding the 
bad condition in which it was left. 
Seeing their determination, we had 
the box emptied of its contents, and, as 
might be expected, found it swarming 
with vermin. We sprinkled it thor¬ 
oughly with insect powder, and the birds 
commenced at once to build. 
When the second brood were hatched 
the English sparrows annoyed the parent 
bluebirds exceedingly by going to the 
box and looking in, and oue of the spar 
rows even had the audacity to attempt 
