rship. In the
depths of the woods the white-breasted nuthatches were holding a
friendly interview. How affectionately they talked to one another in
idioms all their own, saying "Hick! hick!" and "Yank! yank!" and
"Ha-ha! ha-ha! ha-ha!" which may mean anything that is kind and cordial
and confidential. They were either playing at a game of tag, or were
having a peep-show among the bushes, hiding for a moment in some leafy
cluster, then dashing in pursuit of one another in the most frolicksome
way. I crept in under the arches of the snow-clad bushes to watch
their caperings more closely, but the birds at once quieted down, and
went about their more prosaic vocation of grub gathering. They were no
doubt "aching" to frisk about among the snowy bushes, but would not
indulge their playful mood under the eye of a human spectator.

Presently one of them was seen carefully primping his feathers--a
function that I had not previously seen a nuthatch perform. His plumes
seemed to be really quite damp, and, as there was no water at hand--the
streams being mailed with ice as well as nearly a half mile away--he
must have used a snowbank for his lavatory. But you ask how he
arranged his toilet. I had several times seen the little brown creeper
clinging to the vertical wall of a tree and preening his plumes after a
bath, and it was natural to suppose that his congener, the nuthatch,
being also a bird of reptatory habits, would follow the same formula.
But not so! Instead of clinging to the upright bole of a tree, Master
Nuthatch perched crosswise on a twig like a robin or a chickadee, and
smoothed his ruffled plumes.

After this interesting interview with the nuthatches, I trudged about
in the woods for some time without seeing any birds. What had become
of my feathered neighbors, my companions in every ramble throughout the
winter? Had the storm driven them to other climes where bland winds
prevailed? Oh, no! See what prudent creatures they were that wintry
day. At the eastern border of the woods, where the sun shone warmly
and the keen westerly breeze was broken and tempered, my little friends
were found in goodly numbers, well knowing where the Frost King's anger
would be softened.

Here were nuthatches and chickadees in plenty, and also tufted tits,
tree sparrows, juncos, downy woodpeckers, and, to make the complement
as nearly full as possible, a hairy woodpecker drummed and
_chir-r-r-red_, several blue jays compla