cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on the
wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing partridge
berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of my dinner
with the 'possum; I picked a quantity of these wintergreen berries, and
continued my meal with the birds. And they also had enough and to spare.

Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox
sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots
made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing
about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly
by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a
softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock keel over and begin to
flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather chilly
tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury indeed; for
they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and zest that they
put into their scratching among the leaves.

A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a
marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing,
and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, and
laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the blue of
the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in the heart
of the noon that the very swamp seemed to feel.

Three months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the
beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in
February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole
coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I
dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled
into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth;