re. I like the snow. You know I am sometimes called the Snowbird."

Peter nodded. "So I have heard," said he, "though I think that name
really belongs to Snowflake the Snow Bunting."

"Quite right, Peter, quite right," replied Slaty. "I much prefer my own
name of Junco. My, these seeds are good!" All the time he was busily
picking up seeds so tiny that Peter didn't even see them.

"If you like here so much why don't you stay all the year?" inquired
Peter.

"It gets too warm," replied Slaty promptly,

"I hate hot weather. Give me cold weather every time."

"Do you mean to tell me that it is cold all summer where you nest in the
Far North?" demanded Peter.

"Not exactly cold," replied Slaty, "but a lot cooler than it is down
here. I don't go as far north to nest as Snowflake does, but I go far
enough to be fairly comfortable. I don't see how some folks can stand
hot weather."

"It is a good thing they can," interrupted Dotty. "If everybody liked
the same things it wouldn't do at all. Just suppose all the birds ate
nothing but seeds. There wouldn't be seeds enough to go around, and a
lot of us would starve. Then, too, the worms and the bugs would eat up
everything. So, take it all together, it is a mighty good thing that
some birds live almost wholly on worms and bugs and such things, leaving
the seeds to the rest of us. I guess Old Mother Nature knew what she was
about when she gave us different tastes."

Peter nodded his head in approval. "You can always trust Old Mother
Nature to know what is best," said he sagely. "By the way, Slaty, what
do you make your nest of and where do you put it?"

"My nest is usually made of grasses, moss and rootlets. Sometimes it is
lined with fine grasses, and when I am lucky enough to find them I use
long hairs. Often I put my nest on the ground, and never very far above
it. I am like my friend Dotty in this respect. It always seems to me
easier to hide a nest on the ground than anywhere else. There is nothing
like having a nest well hidden. It takes sharp eyes to find my nest, I
can tell you that, Peter Rabbit."

Just then Dotty, who had been picking seeds out of the top of a weed,
gave a cry of alarm and instantly there was a flit of many wings as
Dotty and his relatives and Slaty sought the shelter of the bushes along
the edge of the field. Peter sat up very straight and looked this way
and looked that way. At first he saw nothing suspicious. Then, crouching
flat among the