
          857.

the ground, the ponds have a thick covering of ice and the river
is frozen.  When I reached Brooklyn, I turned off to the right to see
how the Skunk Cabbage looked, to see if the frost had done it
much harm.  I found the spathes frozen and apparently rotting, the
stamens, too, were very much swollen.  My short trip along the river was 
most interesting.  At least six different kinds of birds were either
seen or heard.  Two that I heard afforded me much pleasure.  The one
was a gay fellow and kept always somewhere near me and when
I imitated his cheery notes would immediately afterwards call again;
the other, however, <s>had</s> uttered a rather plaintive chord, which was hard to
imitate and soon, for some reason or other got out of hearing.  One
bird, that I saw, did not seem to be at all afraid.  When I stood still
they would come, two or three, and sometimes a dozen or more, very close to
me.  They were pretty little things, about the size of the Eng. sparrow.
They were of a brownish color, light gray on the breast <s>and had</s> with yellowish
patches on the sides and a pretty top-knot.  They would hold themselves
against the dead stalk of a sedge or grass and peck at it, no doubt after grubs.  Their notes
were hard to imitate.  Everywhere in the snow could be seen the
tracks of birds and animals.  In several places, too, were seen holes
scratched into the snow, it appeared as it the animal had buried something there
        