thru bushes and young trees, down into the hollow, where a stream flowed noiselessly by, following the stream a short distance, I mounted a gentle tree-covered slope on the other side and paused here a moment to look around for cocoons. Presently the familiar call of a Cardinall - or Redbird, as that name sounds more friendly - came to me from out of the northeast. I answered but the sound no more, a crow screamed hoarsely “Caw!Caw!”. Finding no cocoons, I went on again down into the valley and climbed a hill opposite; here, growing in the side of the hill and looking as if they were trying not to slide down the side, were some willows. The “pussies” were bursting their brown shells, and peeping forth, very white.
     On I tramped, following the path which led over hills and the frozen field north of Forker’s wood. Suddenly from cross the hollow a red-bird burst forth:
     “What cheer? What cheer” Hear! Hear! Hear! Hear! Hear! Hear! Hear!
     I whistled back.
     “What cheer?” called the bird aqain, “Here! Here! Here! Here! Here! Here! Here!”
     Yes there - there, on his song was the cheer. How I longed for a sight of this gay songster who braves winterstorms to sing in these