“There's nothing funny about them,” retorted Strutter. “If Old Mother Nature hadn't given me something of this kind I certainly would have a hard time of it when there is snow on the ground. If my feet were just the same as in summer I would sink right down in when the snow is soft and wouldn't be able to walk about at all. Now, with these snowshoes I get along very nicely. You see I sink in but very little.” He took three or four steps and Peter saw right away how very useful those snowshoes were. “My!” he exclaimed. “I wish Old Mother Nature would give me snowshoes too.” Strutter and Jumper both laughed and after a second Peter laughed with them, for he realized how impossible it would be for him to have anything like those snowshoes of Strutter's. “Cousin Peter was just saying that he should think I would find it lonesome over here in the Green Forest. He forgot that you and Mrs. Grouse stay all winter, and he forgot that while most of the birds who spent the summer here have left, there are others who come down from the Far North to take their place.” “Who, for instance?” demanded Peter. “Snipper the Crossbill,” replied Jumper promptly. “I haven't seen him yet this winter, but I know he is here because only this morning I found some pine seeds on the snow under a certain tree.” “Huh!” Peter exclaimed. “That doesn't prove anything. Those seeds might have just fallen, or Chatterer the Red Squirrel might have dropped them.” “This isn't the season for seeds to just fall, and I know by the signs that Chatterer hasn't been about,” retorted Jumper. “Let's go over there now and see what we will see.” Once more he led the way and Peter followed. As they drew near that certain pine-tree, a short whistled note caused them to look up. Busily at work on a pine cone near the top of a tree was a bird about the size of Bully the English Sparrow. He was dressed wholly in dull red with brownish-black wings and tail. “What did I tell you?” cried Jumper. “There's Snipper this very minute, and over in that next tree are a lot of his family and relatives. See in what a funny way they climb about among the branches. They don't flit or hop, but just climb around. I don't know of any other bird anywhere around here that does that.” Just then a seed dropped and landed on the snow almost in front of Peter's nose. Almost at once Snipper himself followed it, picking it up and eating it with as much unconcern as if Peter and Jumper were a mile away instead of only a foot or so. The very first thing Peter noticed was Snipper's bill. The upper and lower halves crossed at the tips. That bill looked very much as if Snipper had struck something hard and twisted the tips over. “Have--have--you met with an accident?” he asked a bit hesitatingly. Snipper looked surprised. “Are you talking to me?” he asked. “Whatever put such an idea into your head?” “Your bill,” replied Peter promptly. “How did it get twisted like that?”