SNYDER. 
171 
he become that, when the reins drop suddenly and he 
hears a decided low “ whoa/’ he stops on the instant and 
does not move again until he is spoken to ; does not even 
breathe hard enough to creak the harness or jingle the 
bells which encircle him. Neither does he mind it when 
the reins are flung over the dash-board, and we, the 
Pinfeather Ornithologist and the Other Bird kover, 
jump out of the sleigh on either side and rush off, 
screwing our bird glasses as we go, to the spot ahead 
where the birds are flying, leaving the horse to take 
care of himself. Patient as Griselda, he will stand 
there and watch me, his queer-acting owner, put a curious 
black thing up to my face, and gaze and gaze, talking the 
while to the Other Bird-kover, who has a book, a pencil 
and an air of suppressed excitement which makes the pen¬ 
cil move very rapidly. On we walk, leaving Snyder be¬ 
hind, until we have no more birds to investigate. Then 
my companion beckons and shouts, “Come!” and our 
clever nag trots ahead to us and stops to take us on board. 
Sometimes we take observations from the sleigh or car¬ 
riage, if we are too well tucked in' of a cold windy morn¬ 
ing to wish to brave the elements in the deep woods. And 
so it happens that with Snyder’s aid we have been able to 
comfortably see some rather rare species this winter. 
On the 9th of January, on the easterly edge of some 
thick woods, when there was a brisk northwest wind, we 
plainly saw four brown creepers (Certhia familiaris fusca.') 
Two were crawling in spirals up the tree trunks ; two more 
were flying across the road. This is our latest record for 
Certhia, and shows that the birds are wintering here. A 
few feet farther down the road were twelve golden-crowned 
kinglets, restlessly pecking at the buds of some gray 
birches. This bird (Regulus satrap a) wears his yellow 
headfeathers all the year round ; his wife, unlike the fe¬ 
males of their ruby-crowned cousins ( R . calendula) carries 
