. Bird-lore . le itin ascending spirals. Only two small sparks glowed among his dull feathers, toshow the flame was still burning. Over the bridge, singing in notes that chimedlike tiny silver bells, fluttered a flock of Chickadees. They swooped downupon the box-elder tree and the slender, bare branches swayed with theiractivities as if a light wind were blowing. Nothing else moved in the frozenravine except the Flicker on the pine tree trunk. A soft, cold touch brushedmy face, and in a moment there seemed nothing else in the world but motion,as the Christmas snowstorm came whirling from the c
. Bird-lore . le itin ascending spirals. Only two small sparks glowed among his dull feathers, toshow the flame was still burning. Over the bridge, singing in notes that chimedlike tiny silver bells, fluttered a flock of Chickadees. They swooped downupon the box-elder tree and the slender, bare branches swayed with theiractivities as if a light wind were blowing. Nothing else moved in the frozenravine except the Flicker on the pine tree trunk. A soft, cold touch brushedmy face, and in a moment there seemed nothing else in the world but motion,as the Christmas snowstorm came whirling from the clouds. I huddled upagainst the big pine, but after awhile, because the Flicker and the Chickadeeshad gone away, it was too lonesome down there. As I started to climb out ofthe ravine I counted up on my fingers: The rest of December doesnt matter, because its Christmas; so theresJanuary, February—thats a short month anyhow—then March! And thebuttercups, and Robins, and maybe—maybe—the first A 1 Kll \ |i|,N Kl Ii- I \K |. l,y II. \V. \ M.
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Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectbirdsperiodicals
