[Illustration: LOON.] Notes February Thirteenth The whistle-wing duck, or American golden eye, attracts your attention by the peculiar whistling sound that it makes with its wings while flying. As it gets its food (small fish, and mussels), by diving, it is able to remain in the Northern States all winter and feed in the swift-running streams, in air-holes, or other open water. February Fourteenth The skunk is one of the mammals who can hibernate or not, just as he chooses. During prolonged periods of cold, he takes shelter in a woodchuck's burrow, and "cuddling down," goes to sleep but a few inches from the rightful owner, who, in turn, is also sleeping in a chamber back of the thin partition of earth which he threw out in front of himself when he retired in the fall. February Fifteenth The first bird to actually voice the approach of spring, is the jolly little chickadee. His spring song, "_spring's-com-ing_," sounds more like "_phoebe_" than does the note of the phoebe itself, for which it is often mistaken. It is a clear, plaintive whistle, easily imitated, and when answered, the songster can often be called within a few feet of one, where he will perch and repeat his song as long as he receives a reply. [Illustration: Photograph by Silas Lottridge. HIBERNATING WOODCHUCK.] Notes February Sixteenth Even the coldest weather does not close the swift-running streams, which gives the muskrats a chance to exercise their legs. It makes you shudder to see one swim along the edge of the ice, then dive, and come to the surface with a mouthful of food. Climbing upon the ice, he eats it, then silently slips into the water again. His hair is so well oiled, that an ordinary wetting does not penetrate to the skin. February Seventeenth A crow's track can always be told from the tracks of other birds of similar size, because there is a dash in the snow made by the claw of his middle toe. Again, his toes are long and set rather closely together, and he seldom walks in a straight line, but wanders about as though looking for something, which is usually the case. February Eighteenth Many persons believe that a porcupine has the power to throw his quills, but it is not so. When alarmed, he hurries, in a lumbering sort of way, for shelter. If you close in on him, he stops at once, ducks his head, humps his back, raises his quill armor, and awaits your attack. Approach closely, and he turns his back and tail toward you, and the instant you touch him he strikes with his club-like tail, also armed with quills, leaving souvenirs sticking into whatever they come in contact with. Notes February Nineteenth