Bird lore - Project Puffin

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Bird -Lore
Birds, through lack of normal health or diet, or through changes in cUmate,
may for a time show striking peculiarities in the color of their plumage, or
through wear and constant use, in the markings of their plumage. Why birds
need to change their feathers, and when they do it, will be the subject of the
next exercise, and differences in colors and markings due to sex will be described.
REFERENCE
Chapman: Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America, pp. 87-97.
FOR AND FROM ADULT AND YOUNG OBSERVERS
AN INTERESTING TRIP
I took such an interesting trip today (Dec. 20, 1910) that I think it should
be recorded.
At the northeastern foot of Weionkhiege Hill a small stream flows, dan-
cing over huge blocks of granite gneiss through a clump of spruce. A small
dam has made a Uttle pool in this grove, and the sun shone in from a
southern exposure, melting the ice and giving a touch of spring to the air,
fragrant with the smell of spruce.
This little grove was fairly teeming with bird life. As I approached it, four
Crows flew cawing from the trees to a nearby fence, and a Blue Jay lent a
beautiful touch of color, while he sounded his discordant alarm. I moved
quietly into the little haven, and sat down to eat lunch.
Soon the birds were moving again. The Blue Jay sneaked back, with an
occasional question, to peer out from behind a branch. A Chickadee began
again his busy search for food. He forgot all about me, and went through his
beautiful gymnastics within ten feet of me on the graceful twigs of a birch.
Several Brown Creepers twittered while they searched the spruce branches for
insects' eggs or belated millers. A flock of Kinglets flew from a tree-top and
lost themselves in another. Somewhere in the gloom of the grove a Downy
Woodpecker squeaked, as he rapped on a dead branch in search of borers,
and I turned in time to see an audacious red squirrel scamper away with a bread
crust that I had thrown to one side.
When I had finished my lunch and my day dreams, I stood up and stooped
for my specimen bag. A flutter and whirr of wings startled me, and I looked
to see the flash of brown wings and a broad spread fantail disappear through
low-hung green branches. It told the story of a Grouse disturbed from his
noon-day sunning, where he had moved when all was quiet.
A closer examination of the snow revealed more wonders, the tracks where a
mouse had run under a bough; four close-set holes in the snow, where a mink
had left the brook for a refuge under a rock-shelf ; many rabbit tracks, showing
where a game of tag had been played, and a succession of wild leaps followed
by fox tracks, revealing the story of its interruption, while the clear-cut,