tes. That so small a body can brave the giant cold of
our winters seems remarkable enough. These are mainly birds of
the evergreens, although at times they frequent the groves and
the orchards.

How does the ruby-crowned kinglet know he has a brilliant bit of
color on his crown which he can uncover at will, and that this
has great charms for the female? During the rivalries of the
males in the mating season, and in the autumn also, they flash
this brilliant ruby at each other. I witnessed what seemed to be
a competitive display of this kind one evening in November. I was
walking along the road, when my ear was attracted by the fine,
shrill lisping and piping of a small band of these birds in an
apple-tree. I paused to see what was the occasion of so much
noise and bluster among these tiny bodies. There were four or
five of them, all more or less excited, and two of them
especially so. I think the excitement of the others was only a
reflection of that of these two. These were hopping around each
other, apparently peering down upon something beneath them. I
suspected a cat concealed behind the wall, and so looked over,
but there was nothing there. Observing them more closely, I saw
that the two birds were entirely occupied with each other.

They behaved exactly as if they were comparing crowns, and each
extolling his own. Their heads were bent forward, the red crown
patch uncovered and showing as a large, brilliant cap, their
tails were spread, and the side feathers below the wings were
fluffed out. They did not come to blows, but followed each other
about amid the branches, uttering their thin, shrill notes and
displaying their ruby crowns to the utmost. Evidently it was some
sort of strife or dispute or rivalry that centred about this
brilliant patch.

Few persons seem aware that the goldfinch is also a winter
bird,--it is so brilliant and familiar in summer and so neutral
and withdrawn in winter. The call-note and manner of flight do
not change, but the color of the males and their habits are very
different from their color and habits in summer. In winter they
congregate in small, loose flocks, both sexes of a dusky
yellowish brown, and feed upon the seeds of grasses and weeds
that stand above the snow in fields and along fences.

Day after day I have observed a band of five or six of them
feeding amid the dry stalks of the evening primrose by the
roadside. They are adepts in extracting the seed from the pods.