Though we found our rural perch very enjoyable, we felt obliged to move on again, however reluctantly. So we crossed the bridge and climbed the hill beyond. A short walk then brought us to another turn, to the right, but on the left an open gate into the woods. We lost no time in turning in here, you may be sure. We found many more birds inside the woods than we had along the road. Here were titmice, chickadees, plenty of nut-hatches white-breasted; hairy and downy woodpeckers, and also a third kind that we were uncertain about. Its upper parts looked like black and white shepherd's plaid, and the back of its head and nape were deep red. Its note was a sonorous _cow-cow-cow-cow-cow_. We heard brown creepers about, and saw many flocks of juncos. When we came to the end of the woods we saw a pair of our cardinals flying about some low brushwood. It was like seeing old friends. I must not forget to mention the blue-jay, who added his voice and brilliant color to the pleasure of our walk. We had entered a cornfield, and as we advanced, flocks of little birds, mostly juncos, would start up before us and fly into the hedge or next field, twittering gaily. Twice we heard distinctly the goldfinch's note; but as the birds all flew up at our approach, we couldn't get near enough to distinguish them. It seemed very odd to hear this summery note amidst that wintry scene. We crossed the cornfield and came to a fence, at right angles, following which took us in the direction of the road. Just as we came up to a few scattered trees, part in the field, and part in the pastures on the other side of the fence, we again heard our medley chorus of many voices, some of which had reminded us of the meadow-lark's. The members of the chorus who proved to be the meadowlarks' cousins, the rusty blackbirds settled in these trees and gave us a selection in their best style. Some of the solo parts were really sweet. After climbing a rail fence we crossed a small pasture and looked in vain for a gate. Nothing but barbed wire. We finally made our escape through a pigs' corn-pen, from whence we emerged into another pasture where the grass was like the softest carpet to our feet. This pasture had a gate opening onto the road; so we were very soon back again at the house, with appetites for dinner fully developed. We saw and heard no less than fourteen different kinds of birds during our walk. So those who desire to see birds need not despair of finding them because it is winter. Nature always has plenty of beautiful things to show us, no matter what the time of year. My story ought to end here, but I must tell you about the tufted "tits" we saw next morning. The weather turned very cold that night, and in the morning a keen wind was blowing, so we didn't think many birds would be about. But hearing some chickadees in the yard, we ventured out, and went across the road, where we sat down in the shelter of a large corncrib.