We loved to watch them as they traced the bark-furrows
of the oaks and hickories head downward, deftly flicking off loose
scales and splinters in search of insects, and braving the coldest
weather as if their little sparks of life were as safely warm in
winter as in summer, unquenchable by the severest frost. With the help
of the chickadees they made a delightful stir in the solemn winter
days, and when we were out chopping we never ceased to wonder how
their slender naked toes could be kept warm when our own were so
painfully frosted though clad in thick socks and boots. And we
wondered and admired the more when we thought of the little midgets
sleeping in knot-holes when the temperature was far below zero,
sometimes thirty-five degrees below, and in the morning, after a
minute breakfast of a few frozen insects and hoarfrost crystals,
playing and chatting in cheery tones as if food, weather, and
everything was according to their own warm hearts. Our Yankee told us
that the name of this darling was Devil-downhead.
Their big neighbors the owls also made good winter music, singing out
loud in wild, gallant strains bespeaking brave comfort, let the frost
bite as it might.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143