Winter Pensioners 177 gray. Shortly, a complete postjuvenal molt occurs and a preliminary winter plumage is assumed, which is nearly identical with that of the adults. From this stage on, the sequence of molts and plumages is the same in adults and young birds, both assuming white plumages in winter and mottled brown ones in summer, followed by the intermediate reddish stage, which is grayish or dusky in some species. The minor details of the three molts of adults and of the two peculiar to young birds are extremely interesting, but space forbids our going deeper into them. Enough, however, has been said to show not only how the Ptarmigans molt, but why they molt. The plumage changes seem to be necessitated by the conditions under which they live. Winter Pensioners BY BRADFORD TORREY With photographs troni nature OUR northern winter is a lean time, ornithologically, though it brings us some choice birds of its own, and is not without many alleviations. When the Redpolls come in crowds and the White-winged Crossbills in good numbers, both of which things happened last year, the world is not half so bad with us as it might be. Still, winter is winter, a season to be tided over rather than doted upon, and anything which helps to make the time pass agreeably is matter for thankfulness. So I am asked to write something about the habit we are in at our house of feeding birds in cold weather, and thus keeping them under the windows. Really we have done nothing peculiar, nor has our suc- cess been beyond that of many of our neighbors ; but such as it is, the work has given us much enjoyment, and the readers of Bird- Lore are welcome to the story. Our method is to put out pieces of raw suet, mostly the trim- mings of beefsteak. These we attach to branches of trees and to the veranda trellis, taking pains, of course, to have them beyond the cat's reach (that the birds may feed safely) and at the same time well disposed for our own convenience as spectators. For myself, in addition, I generally nail pieces of the bait upon one or two of the outer sills of my study windows. I like, as I sit reading or writing, to hear now and then a Nuthatch or a Chickadee ham- mering just outside the pane. Often I rise to have a look at the visitor. There is nothing but the glass between us, and I can stand near enough to see his bead}^ eyes, and, so to speak, the expression
