Swallows are so busy flitting back and forth that they have no time to bother about housekeeping; and we can hardly blame them when with every click of their bills we know some insect is destroyed. They always eat on the wing. They all live together, and I have never heard of a Swallow living alone. They have no song, but are just as much beloved by everybody as if they did have one as beautiful as the Robin's.-MARY KOUWENHOVEN, 3 Kouwenhoven Place, Brooklyn, New York.

[One of the familiar birds of the country, the Barn Swallow ought to be known by every boy and girl who is so fortunate as to live in the country. Even city children may see the Bain Swallow in the parks or elsewhere during migration. Especially to be commended is the observation of the "exquisite" effect of the sun shining on the Swallow's breast. Nowhere in Nature can more beautiful color effects be seen than in the plumage of birds. As to song, the Barn Swallow during the mating and nesting season gives a most pleasing twitter, which may be called a simple song. One may easily recognize the bird by it. The illustration accompanying this contribution was made at Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, where Barn Swallows nest regularly and in some numbers.-A. H. W.]

OBSERVING BIRDS IN WINTER

I thought I would have to wait until next spring, when we move back to the country before I would see any birds but Sparrows, for my home is in a crowded town. But at different times during this winter I have seen a Shrike which we boys have watched kill Sparrows. I have also seen White-breasted

Nuthatches, which feed in the trees in the street where I live. One day from the front window of my house I saw a little brown bird on a tree trunk on the other side of the street. I ran over, and was so busy following him around the tree, that I didn't notice the ash-box, and of course fell into it. But it didn't frighten the brave little Brown Creeper, who kept going up around the tree. When I got up, he flew to the bottom of another tree and began going around up that. On the morning of November 2, which was foggy, I saw on one of our clothesposts a Downy Woodpecker which seemed to be very busy at something. I went out to see what he was doing, and found that he had started to drill a hole. I thought that he would give it up, the post was so hard. But the

next day he had drilled in, so I could see that the post was hollow all the way to the top. So I nailed a tin on the top to keep out the rain. I knew it was Mr. Downy that drilled the hole by the red on his head. In a few days I saw that the nest was occupied by Mrs. Downy. One day at 4 P.M. I went out and tapped on the post, and Mrs. Downy came out and flew into a cherry tree next door. After I went in the house she came over to the fence, then she flew over on the the post and went up to the hole and put her head in, then pulled it out quick. After repeating this several times, she went in. My mother told me that the hole was made to roost in on cold winter nights. Mrs. Downy seemed to be the boss, and chased Mr. Downy away and went to roost herself, because I always saw Mrs. Downy go in, but never Mr. Downy. I don't like to get up early these cold mornings, and I guess Mrs. Downy doesn't either, because one morning I saw her fly out after eight o'clock. One day a neighbor's cat came over the fence and was sniffing around the post, and my mother chased him away. The cat came around several times after that. I haven't seen Mrs. Downy since January 10. I think the cat climbed the post and got the bird. H. GEORGE COTTRELL (age 8), 14 Sharon Avenue, Irvington, N. J.

[Bird-study in winter is always rewarding if one has sufficient interest to discover what the birds which spend the cold season with us, are doing. The subject of the roosting holes of birds in winter would be admirable for a composition, provided some original observations were made first. Another excellent subject is the habits of birds with reference to rising and retiring at different seasons of the year. Since keen, reliable observation is the basis of good bird-study, teachers and pupils both should cultivate it, rather than depend too much on books.-A. H. W.]

By T. GILBERT PEARSON

The National Association of Audubon Societies

EDUCATIONAL LEAFLET No. 77

With the approach of winter, the country loses its charm for many persons. The green of the fields and the riotous verdure of the woods are gone, and the brown expanses of dead grass and weeds are relieved only by the naked blackness of the forest trees. This, however, is a splendid time to go a-field to look for birds. If the wild life is less abundant now, even more sparse is the human life, and so you will have the country more to yourself.

In Winter

One of the birds very sure to be seen and heard in a walk is the Crow, for many of his race spurn the popular bird-movement southward in the autumn when the North begins to freeze. I like him best at this time of the year. There is no young corn for him to pull now, no birds' nests to pilfer, and no young chickens to steal. He has few places where he can hide, and his black shape looms sharp against the snowclad hills. I see him sometimes in January as we come down the Hudson together I in a pullman and he on an ice-floe.

Great Roosts

Now and then I see him strike into the water with his beak, or fly a short distance to a rock or exposed gravel-bar, where things that die and float in the river become stranded. Once I surprised him in the woods, where he had attacked an old, rotten pine-stump. He had torn half of it to pieces and the fragments lay scattered on the snow. Perhaps he was seeking certain insects. taking their long winter sleep, or he may have been after beetles. To fathom the mind of a Crow takes not only persistent effort but considerable imagination. At this season Crows are highly gregarious creatures; especially at night, when they sometimes collect by hundreds or thousands in some favorite grove. Some years ago there was such a roost near the town of Greensboro, North Carolina. It was resorted to for several years in succession, and was a source of no end of wonder to the people of the surrounding country. The roost occupied several acres in a grove of second-growth, yellow-pine trees. By four o'clock in the afternoon the birds would begin to arrive, and from then until dark thousands would come from all directions. Singly, by twos and threes, in companies of ten, twenty, or a hundred, they would appear, flying high over the forest trees, driving straight across the country, pointing their line of flight as direct as only a crow can fly to their nightly rendezvous. Early in the morning they were astir, and if the day was bright it would not be long until all had departed, winging their way over the fields and woodlands to widely scattered feeding-grounds.

Often I watched them come and go, and one night walked beneath the