Soft twittering from cedars in the old buckwheat lot, altered my course. I thot there were Redpolls breakfasting but a flash of red and white changed that. WHITEWING CROSSBILLS! A cheery undertone was audible and several bars of a melodious, soft song drifted on the misty February air — males practising the Spring love notes. They remained about half an hour and then flew over the hill. Neither before nor after have I seen another. A half hour's acquaintance is a good record, tho, for they are gypsies which elude all but the lucky.
Northern North America from Alaska to Greenland and northern tier of United States.