Watch the crows to find out just what they do. Do you ever see them flying in large numbers? If so, at what time of day do they fly? Where are they going? Notice how they use their wings. Do they come from the same direction each morning? Would it not be a great experience to make up a party and visit the place from which they come? What do you think you would find there? [Illustration: _Fig. 323. Who's afraid!_] When you see crows feeding in a field try to learn what they are eating. You can often find crows' tracks in the snow. There the prints of their feet and wings may be seen. What do you think interested the crows in the snow-covered field? Determine whether the caw is always the same. Is it sometimes short, sometimes long? Can you associate these differences with the actions of the birds? I wish you would read John Hay's poem, "The Crows at Washington." LEAFLET LXVI. A FRIENDLY LITTLE CHICKADEE.[84] BY ALICE G. MCCLOSKEY. (Compare Leaflet XXIV.) This scrap of valor just for play Fronts the north wind in waistcoat gray. --EMERSON. [84] Junior Naturalist Monthly, December, 1903. [Illustration] One cold December day a chickadee found himself alone in a wood. He looked very much like other chickadees, a small, gray bird, wearing, as someone has said, "a black hood with white side pieces and a black vest." He was like others of his kin, too, in that he was a skillful acrobat. He could stand right side up on a twig or cling to it upside down--one position seemed as easy as the other. But I am not sure that this little chickadee was like his fellows in one respect. I have wondered whether they are all as friendly as he. I shall tell of something that he did, and leave it to young naturalists to find out whether other chickadees will show as friendly a spirit. It happened on the cold December day when the chickadee was alone in the "snow-choked wood" that a Senior Naturalist wandered along that way. Whether or no the little bird knew that the tall man was there I cannot say. At any rate, he called out "phoe-be," the plaintive little pipe of two notes, clearer and sweeter than the real phoebe bird can make. The tall man answered the call, whistling two notes as plaintive and sweet as the chickadee's own. Again and again the whistle was repeated and every time it was answered. Nearer and nearer came the fluffy midget, until finally he alighted on a tree directly over the tall man's head. And then a remarkable thing happened! You will scarcely believe it, yet it is true. Knowing how near the chickadee was, the tall man whistled "phoe-be" very softly, and the little bird flew down and rested on his arm. How pleased the Senior Naturalist must have felt when he had gained the confidence of this wild bird! I wish that our boys and girls would try to do the same thing and tell Uncle John whether the experiment is successful. STUDY OF A CHICKADEE IN WINTER.