But sometime the sunshine will loosen
The ice chains and spring will be here.
“We remember”—the little heads quiver
And the voices sound drowsily deep,
As they come from ’way down among feathers;
“We remember”—a pause—“then we sleep.”
—Alberta A. Field.
SOME OF OUR WINTER BIRDS.
IN EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS.
One of our most interesting winter birds and (with the exception of the English sparrow) perhaps the commonest, is the little black-cap chicadee. He is frequently seen in one’s orchard and around the door, and a stroll into the woods will reveal him at any time. He may be easily distinguished by his jet black cap, his bluish drab back and wings, and a yellow tinge on his downy breast. Cedar trees are a special delight of his and, in the winter season, he may be found in nearly every grove of these evergreens. As one walks along through the woods, he is attracted by their notes, usually the simple, cheerful “chic-a-dee-ee e e,” varied with squeaks and chirps, or if it be in February or March, he may hear a beautiful whistle (“pee-a-wee-a”), and possibly catch a pretty warbling song. They are always lively and cheerful and on a gloomy winter day they cause one to forget everything but them and their pleasant notes. They feed principally on berries and seeds, such as can be found in cold weather when the ground is covered with snow. But our little friends are seldom alone; as almost constant companions they have the nuthatches, snowbirds, tree sparrows and goldfinches.
Another very common cold weather bird is the slate colored snowbird or junco. Bluish slate above and grayish below, with some white tail feathers which show as he flies, he is a pretty sight to behold when one starts a flock of them from some frozen swamp or meadow, where they feed upon seeds and berries. They utter a loud chirp when you disturb them in the winter time, and as they hop about keep up an incessant twittering, which are the only notes you will hear from them, unless you are lucky enough to hear their song which they seldom sing before starting for their summer homes. When it is stormy or severely cold they come up to one’s door and eat bread crumbs and other things which may be thrown out. They are real friendly and will come quite near to you, and a man once told me that the reason for this was blindness on the part of the birds, and even as he spoke one of the birds flew to a nearby fence and, cocking his head, looked my informer over as if to give him the lie. John B. Tabb has written a short poem, which nicely describes him: