use or a chipmunk. The winter
wren may always be known by these squatting, bobbing-out-and-in habits.

As I sought a still closer view of him, he flitted stealthily a few
yards up the run and disappeared beneath a small plank bridge near a
house.

I wondered what he could feed upon at such a time. There was a light
skim of snow upon the ground, and the weather was cold. The wren, so far
as I know, is entirely an insect-feeder, and where can he find insects
in midwinter in our climate? Probably by searching under bridges, under
brush-heaps, in holes and cavities in banks where the sun falls warm. In
such places he may find dormant spiders and flies and other hibernating
insects or their larvae. We have a tiny, mosquito-like creature that
comes forth in March or in midwinter, as soon as the temperature is a
little above freezing. One may see them performing their fantastic
air-dances when the air is so chilly that one buttons his overcoat about
him in his walk. They are darker than the mosquito,--a sort of dark
water-color,--and are very frail to the touch. Maybe the wren knows the
hiding-place of these insects.

THE CEDAR-BIRD

How alert and vigilant the birds are, even when absorbed in building
their nests! In an open space in the woods I see a pair of cedar-birds
collecting moss from the top of a dead tree. Following the direction in
which they fly, I soon discover the nest placed in the fork of a small
soft maple, which stands amid a thick growth of wild cherry-trees and
young beeches. Carefully concealing myself beneath it, without any fear
that the workmen will hit me with a chip or let fall a tool, I await the
return of the busy pair. Presently I hear the well-known note, and the
female sweeps down and settles unsuspectingly into the half-finished
structure. Hardly have her wings rested before her eye has penetrated my
screen, and with a hurried movement of alarm she darts away. In a moment
the male, with a tuft of wool in his beak (for there is a sheep pasture
near), joins her, and the two reconnoitre the premises from the
surrounding bushes. With their beaks still loaded, they flit round with
a frightened look, and refuse to approach the nest till I have moved off
and lain down behind a log. Then one of them ventures to alight upon
the nest, but, still suspecting all is not right, quickly darts away
again. Then they both together come, and after much peeping and spying
about, and apparently much anxio