IN THE SNOW

It was a bright, wintry day. The frost jewels sparkled on the snow. The winds blew cutting cold from the north.

Phyllis, in her scarlet coat and cap, and long, warm leggings, waded in the deepest drifts she could find.

Out by the garden fence was the greatest drift. After floundering through it, Phyllis climbed up and perched on the top rail of the fence.

She sat quite still, for she was almost breathless after her struggle in the snow.

Suddenly, just over her head, Phyllis heard a whistle. She started so that she almost fell from the fence.

Again came the whistle, clear, sweet, and long drawn out. Phyllis looked up, and there on the branch of the elm-tree sat a cheery little bird.

With a third whistle he flew down to the fence and perched beside Phyllis.

He came quite close and stared at the little girl in a gay, curious manner, as though he might be looking for a playfellow.

"Who are you?" asked Phyllis, looking like a great red bird as she perched on the fence.

"Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" twittered the little fellow. It seemed to Phyllis that he laughed because she did not know him.

"Oh, to be sure," said she. "How stupid of me not to remember. I have met you a hundred times.

"I should have remembered your black head and throat. The sides of your head and neck are white. Your breasts and sides are light yellow. Your tail and wings are of a much darker shade, and how daintily they are edged with white!"

The chickadee fluttered about for a moment, and noticing the friendliness in Phyllis's tones he perched a little closer to her side.

"I do not believe you noticed the large white feathers in my shoulders," he said. "You may always know a chickadee by the white markings there."

"I did not notice your white shoulders at first," said Phyllis, "but I saw at once what fine downy feathers you have. They are beautifully soft. Do they make a warm winter dress? How do you chance to be here in the winter-time?

"I think it is time you were in the South, Mr. Chickadee! Did your family leave you behind?"

"No, indeed," replied Mr. Chickadee. "No, indeed, Phyllis! My entire family are wintering here in the North. We never go South for the winter.

"We are quite happy to remain here at home, and to come out on sunshiny days and whistle and sing and be happy.

"Only half an hour ago some boys went coasting down that hill. I whistled at them but they did not hear me.

"Soon they came up the hill, drawing their sleds behind them. I whistled again and called my name.

"'Why, hello,' cried a boy in a blue reefer and a blue stocking cap. 'Hello, chickadee, you're a jolly little fellow! We call you our fair weather friend because you sing so cheerily on these clear frosty days.'

"'Oho!' laughed another boy, who had a big scratch on his nose, 'I saw a chickadee flying about among the fir-trees on that very stormy day last week. He sang just as cheerily through the storm.' Then the boy whistled back to me and called my name."

"That was my brother Jack," laughed Phyllis. "He got that scratch while out coasting. He told me that he saw you on that stormy day. He loves the winter quite as well as you do. You should hear him sing and whistle when the snow falls for coasting. You should hear him shout when the cold skating days come. He says that Jack Frost is a fellow's best friend."

"Indeed," said the jolly little chickadee, blinking his eyes in a funny way, "my brothers say the very same thing!"

"But how do you find anything to eat in the winter-time?" Phyllis asked. "The insects and worms have long been dead. What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"We had eggs and—"

"Eggs?" cried Phyllis, not waiting for the bird to finish. "You had eggs?"

"Yes, moth's eggs," said the bird. "The moths leave their eggs about in all sorts of places. We chickadees know where to find them!"

"Are they—good?" asked Phyllis.

"Delicious!" replied the chickadee. "I think I have eaten more than a million insects' eggs in my life. I shall never tire of them."

"Where do you sleep?" Phyllis asked.

"In the fir-trees, to be sure," was the reply. "It is quite warm in there, among the many branches, and as soon as we waken we can get our breakfasts. There are all sorts of eggs and sleeping insects among the fir branches."

Phyllis looked from her own thick red leggings to the chickadee's light blue legs.

"Don't your feet get very cold?" she asked. "You surely need some leggings."

The chickadee chirruped and twittered and fluttered until Phyllis suddenly saw that he was laughing at her.

"I don't know what cold feet are!" he said. "I'm glad no one gave me red leggings for Christmas."

"What did you get for Christmas?"

"A wonderfully fine dinner spread on a white snow table-cloth under the cherry-tree!" replied the bird.

"Oh, did you come to my bird feast?" cried the little girl. "I spread crumbs and bird seed for you. Jack wanted to hang a meat bone in the cedar-tree. He said that you would like it better. Indeed, I believe he did hang one there. Did you ever see it?"

"Oh, yes, Phyllis, many a day have we pecked away at that meat bone. It was really very good."

"Jack read in a book that you were fond of pecking at meat bones. He will be glad to know that it is true!"

"Thank him for us," said the chickadee. "You were kind to remember us!"

"Ah," said Phyllis, "but it was kind of you to remain behind to cheer us when all the other birds have gone to warmer lands.

"But, chickadee, though you are so cheery and gay in winter, are you not really happier in the summer-time?"

"Oh, we are so busy in summer," the chickadee replied. "Last May I travelled miles and miles looking for a vacant house."

"Looking for a vacant house?" cried Phyllis, with wide brown eyes.

"For housekeeping," said the chickadee. "You see my mate and I had never kept house before. She was very anxious to find a most suitable place.

"My wife said a woodpecker's nest was the very place, but I rather preferred a squirrel's hole.

"For a long time we could find neither to suit us. But at length I heard Mrs. Chickadee calling loudly. I flew to her side at once.

"'What is it?' I cried.

"'Look!' cried Mrs. Chickadee, pointing with her bill and flapping her wings with joy.

"Through the thick of the woods ran a gray old rail fence. Woodbine and wild hop vines wellnigh covered it. The posts were gray where they were not moss-covered.

"In one of these gray-green posts was a hole where a pair of woodpeckers had once built their nest.

"'This is the very place for us!' cried Mrs. Chickadee. 'It could not be better though we hollowed it out for ourselves.'"

"Could you?" asked Phyllis, looking at the bird's little short black bill.

"If need be, we could, indeed," replied the chickadee. "But we would far rather find a knot-hole, or a squirrel's or woodpecker's deserted nest.

"When we had decided on the spot," the bird went on, "we at once began lining the nest. We carried fine grasses and soft feathers. We found mosses and rabbits' fur to make it soft.

"Those were indeed happy days for us. They were also exciting days. We were very careful to let no one know what we were about.

"Once, as I flew home with a bit of moss, I saw a boy lying on the grass not far from our fence-post. It would never do to let him know our secret. Boys are not to be trusted.

"I perched upon the fence and pretended that I had never a thought of nest building.

"In a moment Mrs. Chickadee came flying home with a soft, downy feather. When I called out warningly she at once flew to me.

"Then the boy called softly to his little sister.

"'Come quick,' he said, 'if you want to watch these birds build their nest.'

"A little dark-eyed girl crept up beside the boy. We scarcely knew what to do. Soon a bright idea occurred to me. I began to sing my very best. I also performed my most wonderful tricks. I whirled round and round. I darted between the rails. I spun about.

"The children became so interested in my performance that they forgot to watch Mrs. Chickadee. When they were not looking her way, she flew to the nest and arranged the feather.

"When she returned she took my place on the fence. Now my wife and I look very much alike, and though she cannot perform quite as nimbly as I, the children did not know when we changed places.

"While the children watched her I flew to the nest with my bit of moss.

"'What a pity!' said the little girl, as we flew away laughing to ourselves. 'They stopped to play and they lost the bits of moss and feathers with which they meant to make their nest!'

"'Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee!' called back my wife happily."

All this time Phyllis's eyes were growing rounder and bigger.

"Why," said she, "I never knew there was but one bird performing on the fence. I thought the other flew away!"

"That was because Mrs. Chickadee and I look so much alike," replied Mr. Chickadee.

"But we did find your nest a few days later," said Phyllis. "In it were six small white eggs covered with tiny red specks. We went to look at the nest every day until the eggs hatched. Then we went several times a day until the baby birds learned to fly and left the nest empty.

"But you did not disturb us," said the chickadee, "though we were dreadfully frightened at first."

At that moment a great soft snowball went plump! against Phyllis's red cap.

"Jack!" she cried, scrambling off the fence and running after the boy with the scratch on his nose. "Jack, take me for a ride on your sled!"

Then she looked back. The chickadee now sat in the tree-top.

"Tell Mrs. Chickadee," called Phyllis, "that I shall spread some more crumbs and seeds on the white table-cloth this afternoon. We'll hang another bone in the cedar-tree, too!"

"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" cried the little bird in a flutter of delight.

TWENTY LITTLE CHICKADEES

Twenty little chickadees,
Sitting in a row;
Twenty pairs of naked feet
Buried in the snow.
I should think you'd fly away
Where the weather's warm,
Then you wouldn't have to be
Out there in the storm.

Sorry little chickadees,
Don't you know the way?
Can't you find the road to go
Where 'tis always May?
Robins all have found it out,
Wrens and bluebirds too,
Don't you wish you'd thought to ask
Ere away they flew?

THE SNOWBIRD'S SONG[1]

The ground was all covered with snow, one day,
And two little sisters were busy at play—
A snowbird was sitting close by on a tree,
And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee!

He had not been singing that tune very long,
When Emily heard him, so loud was his song.
"Oh, sister, look out of the window!" said she,
"Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de-dee!

"Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet
And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet,
I wonder what makes him so full of his glee,
And why he keeps singing, his chick-a-de-dee.

"If I were a barefooted snowbird, I know,
I would not stay out in the cold and the snow.
I pity him so! Oh, how cold he must be,
And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee.

"Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes,
And a nice little frock, and a hat, let him choose.
I wish he'd come into the parlour, and see
How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-dee!"

The bird had flown down for some sweet crumbs of bread,
And heard every word little Emily said.
"How funny I'd look in that costume!" thought he,
And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de-dee.

"I am grateful," said he, "for the wish you express,
But I have no occasion for such a fine dress.
I'd rather remain with my little limbs free,
Than to hobble about singing chick-a-de-dee.

"There is One, my dear child, though I cannot tell who,
Has clothed me already, and warm enough, too.
Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"
And away he flew, singing his chick-a-de-dee.

[1] From "The Second Reader—of the Rational Method In Reading."

HOW THE BIRDS GOT THEIR FEATHERS

(IROQUOIS MYTH)

That evening, as the family sat beside the hearth, Phyllis thought of the brave little chickadees out in the fir-trees.

"I wonder if they are really warm enough," she said. "Do feathers make a warm dress, mother? Why do birds have feathers instead of fur?"

"I have heard the story that the Indians tell of how the birds got their feathers," said mother. "Bring your chairs closer and I will tell the story to you."

So the children drew their chairs up into the firelight, and listened to this little Indian story:

"Once some little Indian children," began the mother, "gathered about the fire inside their deerskin wigwam and begged their mother for a story.

"Each little Indian was wrapped in a bright coloured blanket. Each little Indian wore long turkey buzzard feathers in his hair.

"The Indian mother looked at her baby braves proudly. She thought of the time when each of the children was a tiny papoose and swung in a deerskin cradle like a bird in its nest.

"'There was a time,' said the Indian squaw, 'when the birds had no feathers.

"'Being naked, they remained hidden among the leaves. Being ashamed they were silent, and no bird-note sweetened the stillness of the forest.

"'At last with faint chirpings the mother birds prayed the Great Spirit for blankets in which to wrap their little ones.

"'Then the Great Spirit, seeing their sorry plight, sent a messenger to the birds, who told them that even now coverings were ready for every bird.

"'The messenger said that hereafter each family of birds should dress in uniform, so that the forest people, seeing a bird, might know at once, by its dress, to what bird family it belonged.

"'But alas! the messenger also said that the uniforms were a great way off. He himself could not bring them to the forest. The birds must choose one who was strong of wing and able to endure great hardships, to go back with him and bring the uniforms home.

"'The poor featherless birds looked about for one who was brave and fearless and untiring. A council was held to induce some bird to go on this long journey.

"'But one and all pleaded some excuse. Some must remain to care for the babes still in the nest. Some were too old to undertake the journey. Some were too young to find the way.

"'Some had been ill and were still too weak to travel. Indeed, the birds seemed to be in as sad a plight as before.

"'At last there stepped forth a bird, who, truth to tell, was not a general favourite among his fellows. His name was turkey buzzard.

"'The bird agreed to undertake the long journey and bring back the feathery uniforms, if he could choose the most beautiful coat of feathers for himself and his family for ever.

"'To this the other birds consented, and the featherless turkey buzzard flew away.

"'It was indeed a long and a dangerous journey. Sometimes the poor bird nearly dropped from weariness and hunger. Sometimes, so hungry was he, that he was forced to make a meal off from some dead animal which lay in the way. Indeed so often did he do this that in time he came to like this food.

"'It came to pass, after many days, that the turkey buzzard, being directed by the Great Spirit, found the feathery uniforms.

"'He at once began to look them over. He intended to choose the most beautiful coat of feathers for himself and his family.

"'Soon he found a suit of most gorgeous colours. He tried it on, and looked at his own reflection in the water. The dress was very beautiful. Well pleased with himself and his dress the turkey buzzard gathered up the remaining uniforms and started for home.

"'But alas! the new dress, although so beautiful, did not fit comfortably. The poor bird found that he could not fly well in his new dress. He tried another and still another bright coloured dress, but in none of them was he comfortable.

"'At length, quite discouraged, he slipped into a quiet, dark uniform. Although this suit was the least beautiful it fitted comfortably and gracefully. In it the turkey buzzard flew away home, and in such uniform have his family ever since been content to dress.

"'The turkey buzzards are quite willing to leave the more gorgeous dresses for those birds who cannot fly so far nor so gracefully as they.'"

CHILLY LITTLE CHICKADEES[1]

Chilly little chickadees,
Sitting in a row,
Chilly little chickadees,
Buried in the snow,
Don't you find it very cold
For your little feet?
Don't you find it hard to get
Anything to eat?

Hungry little chickadees,
Would you like some bread?
I will give you all you want,
Or some seed, instead,
Anything you like to eat
I will give you free,
Every morning, every night,
If you come to me.

Jolly little chickadees,
Have you had enough?
Don't forget to come again
When the weather's rough.
Bye, bye, happy little birds!
Off the wee things swarm,
Plying through the driving snow,
Singing in the storm.

[1] From "Songs and Games for Little Ones," by permission of Oliver Ditson Company, owners of the copyright.

ALL ABOUT THE CHICKADEE

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS.

Does not go south in winter.

Song—two or three clear long whistles and the chirping of his own name, "chickadee."

A gay, curious little bird.

Black head and throat—sides of head and neck white—breast grayish buff—wings and tail darker shade edged with white—larger feathers of shoulders white.

Food—seeds and dormant insects or larval eggs.—Valuable as an insect destroyer.

Builds in hollow places—usually deserted woodpeckers' or squirrels' nests—sometimes hollows place for itself.

Six white eggs speckled with red—young birds, male and female much alike in colouring.