I see what I take to be young purple finches eating mountain-ash berries (ours). The kingbirds eat currants . . .

  The black willows are the children of the river. They do not grow far from the water, not on the steep banks which the river is wearing into, not on the unconverted shore, but on the bars and banks which the river has made. A bank may soon get to be too high for it. It grows and thrives on the river-made shores and banks, and is a servant which the river uses to build up and defend its, banks and isles. It is married to the river . . .