ention of the golden-crested kinglet. He is the least of
all our winter birds, and one of the most engaging. Emerson's "atom in
full breath" and "scrap of valor" would apply to him even better than to
the titmouse. He says little,--_zee, zee, zee_ is nearly the limit of
his vocabulary; but his lively demeanor and the grace and agility of his
movements are in themselves an excellent language, speaking infallibly a
contented mind. (It is a fact, on which I forbear to moralize, that
birds seldom look unhappy except when they are idle.) His diminutive
size attracts attention even from those who rarely notice such things.
About the first of December, a year ago, I was told of a man who had
shot a humming-bird only a few days before in the vicinity of Boston. Of
course I expressed a polite surprise, and assured my informant that such
a remarkable capture ought by all means to be put on record in "The
Auk," as every ornithologist in the land would be interested in it. On
this he called upon the lucky sportsman's brother, who happened to be
standing by, to corroborate the story. Yes, the latter said, the fact
was as had been stated. "But then," he continued, "the bird didn't have
a _long bill_, like a humming-bird;" and when I suggested that perhaps
its crown was yellow, bordered with black, he said, "Yes, yes; that's
the bird, exactly." So easy are startling discoveries to an observer who
has just the requisite amount of knowledge,--enough, and (especially)
not too much!

The brown creeper is quite as industrious and good-humored as the
kinglet, but he is less taking in his personal appearance and less
romantic in his mode of life. The same may be said of our two
black-and-white woodpeckers, the downy and the hairy; while their more
showy but less hardy relative, the flicker, evidently feels the weather
a burden. The creeper and these three woodpeckers are with us in limited
numbers every winter; and in the season of 1881-82 we had an altogether
unexpected visit from the red-headed woodpecker,--such a thing as had
not been known for a long time, if ever. Where the birds came from, and
what was the occasion of their journey, nobody could tell. They arrived
early in the autumn, and went away, with the exception of a few
stragglers, in the spring; and as far as I know have never been seen
since. It is a great pity they did not like us well enough to come
again; for they are wide-awake, entertaining creatures, and gorgeously
attir