[vimplugin-devel] Ck upon the run, I got into the woods just in

[Stagman K. <acc...@md...>]

 maple sap was known to _Sphyropicus varius_ long before our human
ancestors discovered it, and this particular bird, to judge from his
actions, must have been a genuine connoisseur; at all events he seemed
to recognize our Boston tree as of a sort not to be met with every day,
although to my less critical sense it was nothing but an ordinary
specimen of the common _Acer dasycarpum_. He was extremely industrious,
as is the custom of his family, and paid no attention to the children
playing about, or to the men who sat under his tree, with the back of
their seat resting against the trunk. As for the children's noise, he
likely enough enjoyed it; for he is a noisy fellow himself and famous as
a drummer. An aged clergyman in Washington told me--in accents half
pathetic, half revengeful--that at a certain time of the year he could
scarcely read his Bible on Sunday mornings, because of the racket which
this woodpecker made hammering on the tin roof overhead. Another of my
acquaintances was of a very different type, a female Maryland
yellow-throat. This lovely creature, a most exquisite, dainty bit of
bird flesh, was in the Garden all by herself on the 6th of October, when
the great majority of her relatives must have been already well on their
way toward the sunny South. She appeared to be perfectly contented, and
allowed me to watch her closely, only scolding mildly now and then when
I became too inquisitive. How I did admire her bravery and peace of
mind; feeding so quietly, with that long, lonesome journey before her,
and the cold weather coming on! No wonder the Great Teacher pointed his
lesson of trust with the injunction, "Behold the fowls of the air." A
passenger even worse belated than this warbler was a chipping sparrow
that I found hopping about the edge of the Beacon Street Mall on the 6th
of December, seven or eight weeks after all chippers were supposed to be
south of Mason and Dixon's line. Some accident had detained him
doubtless; but he showed no signs of worry or haste, as I walked round
him, scrutinizing every feather, lest he should be some tree sparrow
traveling in disguise. There is not much to attract birds to the Common
in the winter, since we offer them neither evergreens for shelter nor
weed patches for a granary. I said to one of the gardeners that I
thought it a pit