small
animals embroidered the snow. Strange tame birds hopped here and there
or rose and swept down wind with plaintive pipings that, in spite of
their lack of fear, lent them a spirit of wildness akin to the aloof
savaging of winter winds in bared trees. Bobby and Johnny recognized the
snow buntings, tossing in compact big companies like flakes in a
whirlwind, the unsoiled white effect of their plumage shaming the snow.
Besides these were little red-polls, dressed warmly in magenta and brown
for the winter, hopping and clinging among the seed-weeds exposed by the
breezes; and hardy, impudent, harsh-voiced blue-jays, cloaking much
villany and cunning under wondrous suits of clothes; and trim, neat
cedar wax-wings, perching on elevated twigs, always apparently at
leisure; in the woods, whole bands of chickadees and nuthatches,
cruising it cheerfully, calling to each other in their varied notes,
tiny atoms defying all the cold and famine Old Winter could bring. Once
they were vastly excited to catch sight of a hoary, wide-winged monster
sweeping like a ghost close to the snow. They surmised it might be a
Great Snow Owl, like the stuffed one in the English library, but they
never knew. And again, in some trees alongside the road, they came upon
a large flock of stocky-built birds, a little smaller than robins, so
tame that the boys drove beneath them and could see their thick bills,
and the marvellous clarity of the sunset yellow of their heads, shading
to twilight down their backs, to black night on their wings, barred by a
strip of clear white moonlight. They agreed that these were most
unusual-looking creatures. How unusual any naturalist would have been
glad to tell them; for these were that great and prized rarity, the
Evening Grosbeak. So, too, in the pine woods they were showered by bits
of cones, and looked aloft to make out a distant little bird busily
engaged in tearing the cones to pieces. They laughed at his industry,
but would have been immensely interested could they have examined at
close hand the Crossbill's beak and its singular adaption to just this
task. And of course they remarked the stately deliberate-looking prints
of the grouse; and the herded tramping of the quail. The winter was
populous enough, in spite of its rigour. Some of its many creatures the
boys knew; many more they did not; but you may be sure they saw all that
did not exercise the closest circumspection.

For miles about, the little sl