On a bright morning in winter, when the leafless branches of the trees bear white traces of the night frost, whose tonic power is felt by man, as well as the lower orders of Nature, we shall not walk far before the rasping “che-chi, che-chi” of the little Saw-sharpener, as he is often called, breaks on our ears. We soon see him climbing about on the branches of some wayside tree; never still, now hanging head downwards as he inspects a bud, seeking for the insect it may contain, or plucking some berry he holds it between his feet, and with a few sharp hammerings of his powerful little beak breaks it open, swallows the seed, and then flits on to the next tree to resume his untiring search for food. Bright in colour, lively in habits and in song, he is such a cheery little fellow that we cannot help regretting the antagonism that is bound to exist between him and the gardener, as the latter watches his promising buds ripped off by this gay-plumaged marauder. True, he is seeking the insect contained in the bud, but in that search it is not to be denied that many an unaffected bud has to suffer. Woods and orchards are his chief haunts, but gardens are frequently visited, and if nest-boxes with small holes be hung up on the trees round the house he and his mate may often be induced to hatch and rear their family under our protection and observation. In spring his saw-sharpening note becomes elaborated into a merry little song, and he proceeds in company with his mate to choose a nesting-site—this is always in a hole in a wall or tree, or even in a letter-box; the cavity within may be fairly large, but the entrance thereto is often very small—ridiculously so for the size of the bird. The nest is a large accumulation of moss, the whole space being filled up level and a little cup-like hollow being sunk in part of it. About ten eggs, white with a few reddish-brown blotches, are laid. The hen bird sits very closely and vigorously pecks at any intruding hand. The period of incubation is very short, being only from ten to twelve days, and the young, which are fed almost exclusively on insects, leave their home in about a fortnight, and wander in small parties through the woods and lanes for the rest of the year.