In the winter the pines stood motionless and their trunks were a greyish brown. The snow lay deep, swept into great drifts which reared in a dark pile towards the ravine. The sky was a grey stretch; the days short and almost dim.  
At night the tree-boles cracked in the frost and their branches broke. The pale moon shone calmly in the stillness, and seemed to make the frost still harder.
 
The nights were horrible with the frost and the phosphorescent light of the moon; the birds sat tucked in their nest, pressing close together to keep themselves warm. Yet still the frost their feathers, got into their skin and made their feet, bills, and backs feel cold. The errant light of the moon was also ; it made the whole earth appear to be a great wolfish eye—that was why it shone so terribly!
 
The birds had no sleep.
 
They turned painfully in their nest, changing their position; their large green eyes emitted a greenish light. Had they the power of thought, they would certainly have longed for the of morning.
 
While it was still an hour before dawn, as the moon was fading and the first faint of daylight approaching, they began to feel hungry; in their mouths there was a disagreeable, bitterish taste, and from time to time their craws painfully contracted.
 
When the grey morning had at last come, the male bird flew off for his ; he flew slowly, spreading his wings wide and rarely flapping them, eying the ground beneath him. He usually hunted for hares. It was sometimes a long while before he found one; then he rose high over the ravine and set out on a distant flight from his nest, far away from the ravine into the vast white expanse of snow.
 
When there were no hares about, he sei............