idle while we are taking a lesson in natural

history? I do not know how many times I have broken off (seeing a bird's shadow in the room, or hearing a tap on the pane) while writing these few paragraphs.

Once, indeed, I saw something like actual belligerency. Two birds reached the bag at the same instant, and neither was inclined to withdraw. They came together, bill to bill, each with a volley of those fine, spitfire notes of which I spoke just now, and in the course of the set-to, which was over almost before it began, one of them struck beak-first against the window, as if he were coming through. Then both flew to the elm branches, fifteen feet away, and in a moment more one of them came back and took a turn at feeding. I am not going to take in the bag for fear of the immoral effects of excessive competition. Competition—among customers—is the life of trade. I am glad to see my table so popular.

The nuthatches, of which we have at least two, male and female, as I know by the different color of their crowns, have not yet discovered the nuts, but come regularly to the