IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
“I know what kind of a bird that is,” yelled Jack. “All 
right, let’s have it,” Tom and I chorused. White-breasted 
nuthatch,” said Jack. 
“That’s what he is, and a beautiful bird at that, with his 
bluish-black crown and blue-gray back. Another of our resi¬ 
dent birds who helps lift the burden of our long Winter days. 
Notice how he goes down the tree trunk head downward. His 
tail is short and square which enables him to balance himself 
perfectly.” 
ft'.'.'' 
Another “yank-yank, ya-ya,/' as if to inquire why our in¬ 
trusion on his domain and he was off for another tree in a dis- 
c 
tant part of the woods. 
We now approached an opening through the trees, a small 
swampy patch of rank weeds and undergrowth. A bird flew up 
from a pool of water where it had been bathing, and darted into 
the bushes. 
“Did you see him?” asked Tom. 
/ /// 
“Yes,” I answered, “looked like some kind of a sparrow, 
but I’m not sure.” 
- / f\ I 
‘ 
While we were standing there waiting for him to come out, 
the bird accommodated us by flying into the open where he 
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