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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36844-8.txt b/36844-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef4fad5 --- /dev/null +++ b/36844-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5456 @@ +Project Gutenberg's In New England Fields and Woods, by Rowland E. Robinson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In New England Fields and Woods + +Author: Rowland E. Robinson + +Release Date: July 25, 2011 [EBook #36844] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + By Rowland E. Robinson + + OUT OF BONDAGE. 16mo, $1.25. + + IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS. 16mo, $1.25. + + DANVIS FOLKS. A Novel. 16mo. $1.25. + + UNCLE 'LISHA'S OUTING. 16mo, $1.25. + + A DANVIS PIONEER. 16mo, $1.25. + + SAM LOVEL'S BOY. 16mo, $1.25. + + VERMONT: A Study of Independence. In American + Commonwealths Series. With Map. + 16mo, gilt top, $1.25. + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + In New England Fields and Woods + + + By Rowland E. Robinson + + + _Boston and New York_ + Houghton, Mifflin and Company + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + + Copyright, 1896, + BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER + + THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED + + + The weather and the changes of the seasons are such common and + convenient topics that one need not apologize for talking about + them, though he says nothing new. + + Still less need one make an apology if he becomes garrulous in + relation to scenes which are now hidden from him by a curtain of + darkness, or concerning some humble acquaintances with whom he + was once on familiar terms, but who now and hereafter can only + be memories, though they are yet near him and he may still hear + their voices. + + So without excuse I offer this collection of sketches, which + with a few exceptions were first published in the columns of + "Forest and Stream." + R. E. R. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. THE NAMELESS SEASON + II. MARCH DAYS + III. THE HOME FIRESIDE + IV. THE CROW + V. THE MINK + VI. APRIL DAYS + VII. THE WOODCHUCK + VIII. THE CHIPMUNK + IX. SPRING SHOOTING + X. THE GARTER-SNAKE + XI. THE TOAD + XII. MAY DAYS + XIII. THE BOBOLINK + XIV. THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER + XV. JUNE DAYS + XVI. THE BULLFROG + XVII. THE ANGLER + XVIII. FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS + XIX. TO A TRESPASS SIGN + XX. A GENTLE SPORTSMAN + XXI. JULY DAYS + XXII. CAMPING OUT + XXIII. THE CAMP-FIRE + XXIV. A RAINY DAY IN CAMP + XXV. AUGUST DAYS + XXVI. A VOYAGE IN THE DARK + XXVII. THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE + XXVIII. THE RACCOON + XXIX. THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE + XXX. SEPTEMBER DAYS + XXXI. A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED + XXXII. THE SKUNK + XXXIII. A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD + XXXIV. THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE + XXXV. OCTOBER DAYS + XXXVI. A COMMON EXPERIENCE + XXXVII. THE RED SQUIRREL + XXXVIII. THE RUFFED GROUSE + XXXIX. TWO SHOTS + XL. NOVEMBER DAYS + XLI. THE MUSKRAT + XLII. NOVEMBER VOICES + XLIII. THANKSGIVING + XLIV. DECEMBER DAYS + XLV. WINTER VOICES + XLVI. THE VARYING HARE + XLVII. THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE + XLVIII. JANUARY DAYS + XLIX. A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE + L. A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION + LI. THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS + LII. THE WEASEL + LIII. FEBRUARY DAYS + LIV. THE FOX + LV. AN ICE-STORM + LVI. SPARE THE TREES + LVII. THE CHICKADEE + + + + +IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS + + + + +I + +THE NAMELESS SEASON + + +In the March page of our almanac, opposite the 20th of the month we find +the bold assertion, "Now spring begins;" but in the northern part of New +England, for which this almanac was especially compiled, the weather +does not bear out the statement. + +The snow may be gone from the fields except in grimy drifts, in hollows +and along fences and woodsides; but there is scarcely a sign of spring +in the nakedness of pasture, meadow, and ploughed land, now more dreary +in the dun desolation of lifeless grass, débris of stacks, and black +furrows than when the first snow covered the lingering greenness of +December. + +It is quite as likely that the open lands are still under the worn and +dusty blanket of snow, smirched with all the litter cast upon it by +cross-lot-faring teams, and wintry winds blowing for months from every +quarter. The same untidiness pervades all outdoors. We could never +believe that so many odds and ends could have been thrown out of doors +helter-skelter, in three months of ordinary life, till the proof +confronts us on the surface of the subsiding snow or lies stranded on +the bare earth. The wind comes with an icier breath from the wintrier +north, and yet blows untempered from the south, over fields by turns +frozen and sodden, through which the swollen brooks rush in yellow +torrents with sullen monotonous complaint. + +One may get more comfort in the woods, though the snow still lies deep +in their shelter; for here may be found the sugar-maker's camp, with its +mixed odors of pungent smoke and saccharine steam, its wide environment +of dripping spouts and tinkling tin buckets, signs that at last the +pulse of the trees is stirred by a subtle promise of returning spring. + +The coarse-grained snow is strewn thickly with shards of bark that the +trees have sloughed in their long hibernation, with shreds and tatters +of their tempest-torn branches. But all this litter does not offend the +eye nor look out of place, like that which is scattered in fields and +about homesteads. When this three months' downfall of fragments sinks to +the carpet of flattened leaves, it will be at one with it, an inwoven +pattern, as comely as the shifting mesh of browner shadows that trunks +and branches weave between the splashes of sunshine. Among these is a +garnishment of green moss patches and fronds of perennial ferns which +tell of life that the stress of winter could not overcome. One may +discover, amid the purple lobes of the squirrelcup leaves, downy buds +that promise blossoms, and others, callower, but of like promise, under +the rusty links of the arbutus chain. + +One hears the resonant call of a woodpecker rattled out on a seasoned +branch or hollow stub, and may catch the muffled beat of the partridge's +drum, silent since the dreamy days of Indian summer, now throbbing +again in slow and accelerated pulsations of evasive sound through the +unroofed arches of the woodlands. And one may hear, wondering where the +poor vagrants find food and water, the wild clangor of the geese +trumpeting their aerial northward march, and the quick whistle of the +wild duck's pinions,--hear the carol of an untimely bluebird and the +disconsolate yelp of a robin; but yet it is not spring. + +Presently comes a great downfall of snow, making the earth beautiful +again with a whiteness outshining that of the winter that is past. The +damp flakes cling to every surface, and clothe wall, fence and tree, +field and forest, with a more radiant mantle than the dusty snow and +slanted sunshine of winter gave them. + +There is nothing hopeful of spring but a few meagre signs, and the +tradition that spring has always come heretofore. + +It is not winter, it is not spring, but a season with an individuality +as marked as either, yet without a name. + + + + +II + +MARCH DAYS + + +Back and forth across the land, in swift and sudden alternation, the +March winds toss days of bitter cold and days of genial warmth, now out +of the eternal winter of the north, now from the endless summer of the +tropics. + +Repeated thawing and freezing has given the snow a coarse grain. It is +like a mass of fine hailstones and with no hint of the soft and feathery +flakes that wavered down like white blossoms shed from the unseen bloom +of some far-off upper world and that silently transformed the +unseemliness of the black and tawny earth into the beauty of immaculate +purity. + +One day, when the wind breathes from the south a continuous breath of +warmth, your feet sink into this later coarseness come of its base +earthly association, with a grinding slump, as in loose wet sand, so +deep, perhaps, that your tracks are gray puddles, marking your toilsome +way. + +As you wallow on, or perch for a moment's rest on a naked fence-top +among the smirched drifts, you envy the crows faring so easily along +their aerial paths above you. How pleasant are the voices of these +returning exiles, not enemies now, but friendly messengers, bringing +tidings of spring. You do not begrudge them the meagre feasts they find, +the frozen apple still hanging, brown and wrinkled, in the bare orchard, +or the winter-killed youngling of flock or herd, cast forth upon a +dunghill, and which discovered, one generous vagabond calls all his +black comrades to partake of. + +Watching them as they lag across the sky, yet swifter than the white +clouds drift above them, you presently note that these stand still, as +you may verify by their blue shadows on the snow, lying motionless, with +the palpitating shadows of the crows plunging into them on this side, +then, lost for an instant in the blue obscurity, then, emerging on that +side with the same untiring beat of shadowy wings. A puff of wind comes +out of the north, followed by an angry gust, and then a howling wintry +blast that the crows stagger against in labored flight as they make for +the shelter of the woods. + +You, too, toil to shelter and fireside warmth, and are thankful to be +out of the biting wind and the treacherous footing. The change has come +so suddenly that the moist, grainy snow is frozen before it has time to +leach, and in a little while gives you a surface most delightful to walk +upon, and shortens distances to half what they were. It has lost its +first pure whiteness wherewith no other whiteness can compare, but it is +yet beyond all things else, and in the sunlight dazzles you with a broad +glare and innumerable scintillating points of light, as intense as the +sun itself. + +The sunshine, the bracing air, the swaying boughs of the pines and +hemlocks beckoning at the woodside, and the firm smooth footing, +irresistibly invite you forth. Your feet devour the way with crisp +bites, and you think that nothing could be more pleasant to them till +you are offered a few yards of turf, laid bare by winds and sun, and +then you realize that nothing is quite so good as the old stand-by, a +naked ground, and crave more of it, even as this is, and hunger for it +with its later garnishing of grass and flowers. The crows, too, are +drawn to these bare patches and are busy upon them, and you wonder what +they can find; spiders, perhaps, for these you may see in thawy days +crawling sluggishly over the snow, where they must have come from the +earth. + +The woods are astir with more life than a month ago. The squirrels are +busy and noisy, the chickadees throng about you, sometimes singing their +sweet brief song of three notes; the nuthatches pipe their tiny trumpets +in full orchestra, and the jays are clamoring their ordinary familiar +cries with occasional notes that you do not often hear. One of these is +a soft, rapidly uttered cluck, the bird all the time dancing with his +body, but not with his feet, to his own music, which is pleasant to the +ear, especially when you remember it is a jay's music, which in the main +cannot be recommended. To-day, doubtless, he is practicing the +allurements of the mating season. + +You hear the loud cackle of a logcock making the daily round of his +preserves, but you are not likely to get more than a glimpse of his +black plumage or a gleam of his blood-red crest. + +By rare luck you may hear the little Acadian owl filing his invisible +saw, but you are likelier to see him and mistake him for a clot of last +year's leaves lodged midway in their fall to earth. + +The forest floor, barred and netted with blue shadows of trunks and +branches, is strewn with dry twigs, evergreen leaves, shards of bark, +and shreds of tree-moss and lichen, with heaps of cone scales,--the +squirrel's kitchen middens,--the sign of a partridge's nightly roosting, +similar traces of the hare's moonlight wanderings, and perhaps a fluff +of his white fur, showing where his journeys have ended forever in a +fox's maw. + +Here and there the top of a cradle knoll crops out of the snow with its +patches of green moss, sturdy upright stems and leaves and red berries +of wintergreen, as fresh as when the first snow covered them, a rusty +trail of mayflower leaves, and the flat-pressed purple lobes of +squirrelcup with a downy heart of buds full of the promise of spring. + +The woods are filled with a certain subtle scent quite distinct from the +very apparent resinous and balsamic aroma of the evergreens, that eludes +description, but as a kind of freshness that tickles the nose with +longing for a more generous waft of it. You can trace it to no source, +as you can the odors of the pine and the hemlocks or the sweet fragrance +of the boiling sap, coming from the sugar-maker's camp with a pungent +mixture of wood-smoke. You are also made aware that the skunk has been +abroad, that reynard is somewhere to windward, and by an undescribed, +generally unrecognized, pungency in the air that a gray squirrel lives +in your neighborhood. Yet among all these more potent odors you still +discover this subtle exhalation, perhaps of the earth filtered upward +through the snow, perhaps the first awakening breath of all the +deciduous trees. + +Warmer shines the sun and warmer blows the wind from southern seas and +southern lands. More and more the tawny earth comes in sight among +puddles of melted snow, which bring the mirrored sky and its fleecy +flocks of clouds, with treetops turned topsy-turvy, down into the bounds +of fields. The brooks are alive again and babbling noisily over their +pebbled beds, and the lake, hearing them, groans and cries for +deliverance from its prison of ice. + +On the marshes you may find the ice shrunken from the shores and an +intervening strip of water where the muskrat may see the sun and the +stars again. You hear the trumpets of the wild geese and see the gray +battalion riding northward on the swift wind. + +The sun and the south wind, which perhaps bears some faint breath of +stolen fragrance from far-off violet banks, tempt forth the bees, but +they find no flowers yet, not even a squirrelcup or willow catkin, and +can only make the most of the fresh sawdust by the wood-pile and the +sappy ends of maple logs. + +Down from the sky, whose livery he wears and whose song he sings, comes +the heavenly carol of the bluebird; the song sparrow trills his cheery +melody; the first robin is announced to-day, and we cry, "Lo, spring has +come." But to-morrow may come winter and longer waiting. + + + + +III + +THE HOME FIRESIDE + + +Weeks ago the camp-fire shed its last glow in the deserted camp, its +last thin thread of smoke was spun out and vanished in the silent air, +and black brands and gray ashes were covered in the even whiteness of +the snow. The unscared fox prowls above them in curious exploration of +the desolate shanty, where wood-mice are domiciled and to whose sunny +side the partridge comes to bask; the woodpecker taps unbidden to enter +or departs from the always open door; and under the stars that glitter +through the net of branches the owl perches on the snowy ridge and mopes +in undisturbed solemnity. + +For a time, camping-days are over for the sportsman, and continue only +for the lumberman, the trapper, and the merciless crust-hunter, who +makes his secret lair in the depths of the forest. In the chill days +and evenings that fall first in the interim between winter and summer +camping, the man who makes his outings for sport and pleasure must +content himself by his own fireside, whose constant flame burns +throughout the year. + +Well may he be content when the untempered winds of March howl like a +legion of wolves at his door, snow and sleet pelt roof and pane with a +continuous volley from the lowering sky, or when the chilly silence of +the last winter nights is broken by the sharp crack of frozen trees and +timbers, as if a hidden band of riflemen were besieging the house. Well +may he be content, then, with the snug corner of his own hearthstone, +around which are gathered the good wife, the children, and his camp +companions, the dogs. + +Better than the camp, is this cosy comfort in days and nights such as +these, or in those that fall within that unnamed season that lies +between winter and spring, when, if one stirs abroad, his feet have +sorry choice between saturated snow and oozy mould,--a dismal season +but for its promise of brighter days, of free streams, green trees, and +bird songs. + +Better, now, this genial glow that warms one's marrow than the camp-fire +that smokes or roasts one's front while his back freezes. With what +perfect contentment one mends his tackle and cleans his gun for coming +days of sport, while the good wife reads racy records of camp-life from +Maine to California, and he listens with attention half diverted by +break or rust spot, or with amused watching of the youngsters playing at +camping out. The callow campers assail him with demands for stories, and +he goes over, for their and his own enjoyment, old experiences in camp +and field, while the dogs dream by the fire of sport past or to +come,--for none but dogs know whether dog's dreams run backward or +forward. + +Long-used rod and gun suggest many a tale of past adventure as they +bring to mind recollections of days of sport such as may never come +again. The great logs in the fireplace might tell, if their flaming +tongues were given speech, of camps made long ago beneath their lusty +branches, and of such noble game as we shall never see,--moose, elk, +deer, panther, wolf, and bear, which are but spectres in the shadowy +forest of the past. But the red tongues only roar and hiss as they lick +the crackling sinews of oak and hickory, and tell nothing that ordinary +ears may catch. Yet one is apt to fall dreaming of bygone days, and then +of days that may come to be spent by pleasant summer waters and in the +woods gorgeous with the ripeness of autumn. + +So one is like to dream till he awakens and finds himself left with only +the dogs for comrades, before the flameless embers, deserted even by the +shadows that erstwhile played their grotesque pranks behind him. Cover +the coals as if they were to kindle to-morrow's camp-fire, put the +yawning dogs to bed, and then to bed and further dreaming. + + + + +IV + +THE CROW + + +The robin's impatient yelp not yet attuned to happy song, the song +sparrow's trill, the bluebird's serene melody, do not herald the coming +of spring, but attend its vanguard. These blithe musicians accompany the +soft air that bares the fields, empurples the buds, and fans the bloom +of the first squirrelcups and sets the hyla's shrill chime a-ringing. + +Preceding these, while the fields are yet an unbroken whiteness and the +coping of the drifts maintain the fantastic grace of their storm-built +shapes, before a recognized waft of spring is felt or the voice of a +freed stream is heard, comes that sable pursuivant, the crow, fighting +his way against the fierce north wind, tossed alow and aloft, buffeted +to this side and that, yet staggering bravely onward, and sounding his +trumpet in the face of his raging antagonist, and far in advance of its +banners, proclaiming spring. + +It is the first audible promise of the longed-for season, and it +heartens us, though there be weary days of waiting for its fulfillment, +while the bold herald is beset by storm and pinched with hunger as he +holds his outpost and gleans his scant rations in the winter-desolated +land. + +He finds some friendliness in nature even now. Though her forces assail +him with relentless fury, she gives him here the shelter of her +evergreen tents, in windless depths of woodland; bares for him there a +rood of sward or stubble whereon to find some crumb of comfort; leaves +for him ungathered apples on the naked boughs, and on the unpruned +tangles of vines wild grapes,--poor raisins of the frost,--the remnants +of autumnal feasts of the robins and partridges. + +Thankful now for such meagre fare and eager for the fullness of +disgusting repasts, in the bounty of other seasons, he becomes an +epicure whom only the choicest food will satisfy. He has the pick of +the fattest grubs; he makes stealthy levies on the earliest robins' +nests; and from some lofty lookout or aerial scout watches the farmer +plant the corn and awaits its sprouting into the dainty tidbits, a +fondness for whose sweetness is his overmastering weakness. For this he +braves the terrible scarecrow and the dread mystery of the cornfield's +lined boundary, for this risks life and forfeits the good name that his +better deeds might give him. If he would not be tempted from grubs and +carrion, what a worthy bird he might be accounted. In what good if +humble repute might he live, how lamented, die. O Appetite! thou base +belly-denned demon, for what sins of birds and men art thou accountable! + +In the springtide days, the crow turns aside from theft and robbery to +the softer game of love, whereunto you hear the harsh voice attuned in +cluttering notes. After the wooing the pair begin house building and +keeping. + +It is the rudest and clumsiest of all bird architecture that has become +the centre of their cares--such a jumble of sticks and twigs as chance +might pile on its forked foundations; but woe betide the hawk who +ventures near, or owl who dares to sound his hollow trumpet in the +sacred precincts. At the first alarm signal, as suddenly and +mysteriously as Robin Hood's merry men appeared at the winding of his +horn, the black clansmen rally from every quarter of the greenwood, to +assail the intruder and force him to ignominious retreat. + +When at last the young crows, having clad their uncouth nakedness with +full sable raiment, are abroad in the world, they, with unwary +foolhardiness and incessant querulous cries of hunger or alarm, are +still a constant source of anxiety to parents and kindred. But in the +late summer, when the youngsters have come to months of discretion and +the elders are freed from the bondage of their care, a long holiday +begins for all the tribe. The corn has long since ceased to tempt them, +and the persecution of man has abated. The shorn meadows and the +close-cropped pastures swarm with grasshoppers, and field and forest +offer their abundant fruits. + +Careless and uncared for, what happy lives they lead, sauntering on +sagging wing through the sunshine from chosen field to chosen wood, and +at nightfall encamping in the fragrant tents of the pines. + +At last the gay banners of autumn signal departure, and the gathered +clans file away in straggling columns, flecking the blue sky with +pulsating dots of blackness, the green earth with wavering shadows. +Sadly we watch the retreat of the sable cohorts, whose desertion leaves +our northern homes to the desolation of winter. + + + + +V + +THE MINK + + +This little fur-bearer, whose color has been painted darker than it is, +singularly making his name proverbial for blackness, is an old +acquaintance of the angler and the sportsman, but not so familiar to +them and the country boy as it was twoscore years ago. + +It was a woeful day for the tribe of the mink when it became the fashion +for other folk to wear his coat, which he could only doff with the +subtler garment of life. + +Throughout the term of his exaltation to the favor of fashion, he was +lain in wait for at his own door and on his thoroughfares and by-paths +by the traps, dead-falls, and guns of professional and amateur trappers +and hunters, till the fate of his greater cousin the otter seemed to +overtake him. But the fickle empress who raised him to such perilous +estate, changing her mood, thrust him down almost to his old ignoble but +safer rank, just in time to avert the impending doom of extermination. +Once more the places that knew him of old, know him again. + +In the March snow you may trace the long span of his parallel footprints +where, hot with the rekindled annual fire of love, he has sped on his +errant wooing, turning not aside for the most tempting bait, halting not +for rest, hungering only for a sweetheart, wearied with nothing but +loneliness. Yet weary enough would you be if you attempted to follow the +track of but one night's wandering along the winding brook, through the +tangle of windfalls, and across the rugged ledges that part stream from +stream. When you go fishing in the first days of summer, you may see the +fruits of this early springtide wooing in the dusky brood taking their +primer-lesson in the art that their primogenitors were adepts in before +yours learned it. How proud one baby fisher is of his first captured +minnow, how he gloats over it and defends his prize from his envious +and less fortunate brothers. + +When summer wanes, they will be a scattered family, each member shifting +for himself. Some still haunt the alder thicket where they first saw +light, whose netted shadows of bare branches have thickened about them +to continued shade of leafage, in whose midday twilight the red flame of +the cardinal flower burns as a beacon set to guide the dusky wanderer +home. Others have adventured far down the winding brook to the river, +and followed its slowing current, past rapids and cataract, to where it +crawls through the green level of marshes beloved of water fowl and of +gunners, whose wounded victims, escaping them, fall an easy prey to the +lurking mink. + +Here, too, in their season are the tender ducklings of wood duck, teal, +and dusky duck, and, all the year round, fat muskrats, which furnish for +the price of conquest a banquet that the mink most delights in. + +In the wooded border are homes ready builded for him under the +buttressed trunks of elms, or in the hollow boles of old water maples, +and hidden pathways through fallen trees and under low green arches of +ferns. + +With such a home and such bountiful provision for his larder close at +hand, what more could the heart and stomach of mink desire? Yet he may +not be satisfied, but longs for the wider waters of the lake, whose +translucent depths reveal to him all who swim beneath him, fry +innumerable; perch displaying their scales of gold, shiners like silver +arrows shot through the green water, the lesser bass peering out of +rocky fastnesses, all attainable to this daring fisher, but not his +great rivals, the bronze-mailed bass and the mottled pike, whose jaws +are wide enough to engulf even him. + +Here, while you rest on your idle oar or lounge with useless rod, you +may see him gliding behind the tangled net of cedar roots, or venturing +forth from a cranny of the rocks down to the brink, and launching +himself so silently that you doubt whether it is not a flitting shadow +till you see his noiseless wake breaking the reflections lengthening +out behind him. + +Of all swimmers that breathe the free air none can compare with him in +swiftness and in a grace that is the smooth and even flow of the poetry +of motion. Now he dives, or rather vanishes from the surface, nor +reappears till his wake has almost flickered out. + +His voyage accomplished, he at once sets forth on exploration of new +shores or progress through his established domain, and vanishes from +sight before his first wet footprints have dried on the warm rock where +he landed. + +You are glad to have seen him, thankful that he lives, and you hope +that, sparing your chickens and your share of trout, partridges, and +wild ducks, he too may be spared from the devices of the trapper to fill +his appointed place in the world's wildness. + + + + +VI + +APRIL DAYS + + +At last there is full and complete assurance of spring, in spite of the +baldness of the woods, the barrenness of the fields, bleak with sodden +furrows of last year's ploughing, or pallidly tawny with bleached grass, +and untidy with the jetsam of winter storms and the wide strewn litter +of farms in months of foddering and wood-hauling. + +There is full assurance of spring in such incongruities as a phoebe +a-perch on a brown mullein stalk in the midst of grimy snow banks, and +therefrom swooping in airy loops of flight upon the flies that buzz +across this begrimed remnant of winter's ermine, and of squirrelcups +flaunting bloom and fragrance in the face of an ice cascade, which, with +all its glitter gone, hangs in dull whiteness down the ledges, greening +the moss with the moisture of its wasting sheet of pearl. + +The woodchuck and chipmunk have got on top of the world again. You hear +the half querulous, half chuckling whistle of the one, the full-mouthed +persistent cluck of the other, voicing recognition of the season. + +The song of the brooks has abated something of its first triumphant +swell, and is often overborne now by the jubilant chorus of the birds, +the jangled, liquid gurgle and raucous grating of the blackbirds, the +robin's joyous song with its frequent breaks, as if the thronging notes +outran utterance, the too brief sweetness of the meadowlark's whistle, +the bluebird's carol, the cheery call of the phoebe, the trill of the +song sparrow, and above them all the triumph of the hawk in its regained +possessions of northern sky and earth. + +The woods throb with the muffled beat of the partridge's drum and the +sharp tattoo of the woodpecker, and are filled again with the sounds of +insect life, the spasmodic hum of flies, the droning monotone of bees +busy among the catkins and squirrelcups, and you may see a butterfly, +wavering among the gray trees, soon to come to the end of his life, +brief at its longest, drowned in the seductive sweets of a sap bucket. + +The squirrels are chattering over the wine of the maple branches they +have broached, in merrier mood than the hare, who limps over the matted +leaves in the raggedness of shifting raiment, fitting himself to a new +inconspicuousness. + +We shall not find it unpleasant nor unprofitable to take to the woods +now, for we may be sure that they are pleasanter than the untidy fields. +Where nature has her own way with herself, she makes her garb seemly +even now, after all the tousling and rents she gave it in her angry +winter moods. The scraps of moss, bark, and twigs with which the last +surface of the snow was obtrusively littered lie now unnoticed on the +flat-pressed leaves, an umber carpet dotted here with flecks of moss, +there sprigged with fronds of evergreen fern, purple leaves of +squirrelcups, with their downy buds and first blossoms. Between banks so +clad the brook babbles as joyously as amid all the bloom and leafage of +June, and catches a brighter gleam from the unobstructed sunbeams. So +befittingly are the trees arrayed in graceful tracery of spray and beads +of purpling buds, that their seemly nakedness is as beautiful as attire +of summer's greenness or autumn's gorgeousness could make them. + +Never sweeter than now, after the long silence of winter, do the birds' +songs sound, and never in all the round of the year is there a better +time to see them than when the gray haze of the branches is the only +hiding for their gay wedding garments. + +If you would try your skill at still-hunting, follow up that muffled +roll that throbs through the woods, and if you discover the ruffed +grouse strutting upon his favorite log, and undiscovered by him can +watch his proud performance, you will have done something better worth +boasting of than bringing him to earth from his hurtling flight. + +Out of the distant fields come, sweet and faint, the call of the +meadowlark and the gurgle of the blackbirds that throng the brookside +elms. From high overhead come down the clarion note of the goose, the +sibilant beat of the wild ducks' wings, the bleat of the snipe and the +plover's cry, each making his way to northern breeding grounds. Are you +not glad they are going as safely as their uncaught shadows that sweep +swiftly across the shadowy meshes of the forest floor? Are you not +content to see what you see, hear what you hear, and kill nothing but +time? + +Verily, you shall have a clearer conscience than if you were disturbing +the voice of nature with the discordant uproar of your gun, and marring +the fresh odors of spring with the fumes of villainous saltpetre. + +In the open marshes the lodges of the muskrats have gone adrift in the +floods; but the unhoused inmates count this a light misfortune, since +they may voyage again with heads above water, and go mate-seeking and +food-gathering in sunshine and starlight, undimmed by roof of ice. As +you see them cutting the smooth surface with long, swift, arrowy wakes, +coasting the low shore in quest of brown sweethearts and wives, +whimpering their plaintive call, you can hardly imagine the clumsy body +between that grim head and rudder-like tail capable of such graceful +motion. + +The painted wood drake swims above the submerged tree roots; a pair of +dusky ducks splash to flight, with a raucous clamor, out of a sedgy cove +at your approach; the thronging blackbirds shower liquid melody and hail +of discord from the purple-budded maples above you. All around, from the +drift of floating and stranded water weeds, arises the dry, crackling +croak of frogs, and from sunny pools the vibrant trill of toads. + +From afar come the watery boom of a bittern, the song of a trapper and +the hollow clang of his setting pole dropping athwart the gunwales of +his craft, the distant roar of a gun and the echoes rebounding from +shore to shore. + +The grateful odor of the warming earth comes to your nostrils; to your +ears, from every side, the sounds of spring; and yet you listen for +fuller confirmation of its presence in the long-drawn wail of the plover +and the rollicking melody of the bobolink. + + + + +VII + +THE WOODCHUCK + + +Chancing to pass a besmirched April snowbank on the border of a hollow, +you see it marked with the footprints of an old acquaintance of whom for +months you have not seen even so much as this. + +It is not that he made an autumnal pilgrimage, slowly following the +swift birds and the retreating sun, that you had no knowledge of him, +but because of his home-keeping, closer than a hermit's seclusion. These +few cautious steps, venturing but half way from his door to the tawny +naked grass that is daily edging nearer to his threshold, are the first +he has taken abroad since the last bright lingering leaf fluttered down +in the Indian summer haze, or perhaps since the leaves put on their +first autumnal tints. + +He had seen all the best of the year, the blooming of the first flowers, +the springing of the grass and its growth, the gathering of the +harvests and the ripening of fruits, and possibly the gorgeousness of +autumn melting into sombre gray. He had heard all the glad songs of all +the birds and the sad notes of farewell of bobolink and plover to their +summer home; he had seen the swallows depart and had heard the droning +of the bumblebee among the earliest and latest of his own clover +blossoms. All the best the world had to give in the round of her +seasons, luxuriant growth to feed upon, warm sunshine to bask in, he had +enjoyed; of her worst, he would have none. + +So he bade farewell to the gathering desolation of the tawny fields and +crept closer to the earth's warm heart to sleep through the long night +of winter, till the morning of spring. The wild scurry of wind-tossed +leaves swept above him unheard, and the pitiless beat of autumnal rain +and the raging of winter storms that heaped the drifts deeper and deeper +over his forsaken door. The bitterness of cold, that made the furred fox +and the muffled owl shiver, never touched him in his warm nest. So he +shirked the hardships of winter without the toil of a journey in +pursuit of summer, while the starved fox prowled in the desolate woods +and barren fields, the owl hunted beneath the cold stars, and the +squirrel delved in the snow for his meagre fare. + +By and by the ethereal but potent spirit of spring stole in where the +frost-elves could not enter, and awakening the earth awakened him. Not +by a slow and often impeded invasion of the senses, but as by the sudden +opening of a door, he sees the naked earth again warming herself in the +sun, and hears running water and singing birds. No wonder that with such +surprise the querulous tremolo of his whistle is sharply mingled with +these softer voices. + +Day by day as he sees the sun-loved banks blushing greener, he ventures +further forth to visit neighbors or watch his clover, or dig a new home +in a more favored bank, or fortify himself in some rocky stronghold +where boys and dogs may not enter. Now, the family may be seen moving, +with no burden of furniture or provision, but only the mother with her +gray cubs, carried as a cat carries her kittens, one by one to the new +home among the fresher clover. + +On the mound of newly digged earth before it, is that erect, motionless, +gray and russet form a half decayed stump uprising where no tree has +grown within your memory? You move a little nearer to inspect the +strange anomaly, and lo! it vanishes, and you know it was your old +acquaintance, the woodchuck, standing guard at his door and overlooking +his green and blossoming domain. + +Are you not sorry, to-day at least, to hear the boys and the dog +besieging him in his burrow or in the old stone wall wherein he has +taken sanctuary? Surely, the first beautiful days of his open-air life +should not be made so miserable that he would wish himself asleep again +in the safety and darkness of winter. But you remember that you were +once a boy, and your sympathies are divided between the young savages +and their intended prey, which after all is likelier than not to escape. + +He will tangle the meadow-grass and make free with the bean patch if he +chances upon it, yet you are glad to see the woodchuck, rejoicing like +yourself in the advent of spring. + + + + +VIII + +THE CHIPMUNK + + +As the woodchuck sleeps away the bitterness of cold, so in his narrower +chamber sleeps the chipmunk. Happy little hermit, lover of the sun, mate +of the song sparrow and the butterflies, what a goodly and hopeful token +of the earth's renewed life is he, verifying the promises of his own +chalices, the squirrelcups, set in the warmest corners of the woodside, +with libations of dew and shower drops, of the bluebird's carol, the +sparrow's song of spring. + +Now he comes forth from his long night into the fullness of sunlit day, +to proclaim his awakening to his summer comrades, a gay recluse clad all +in the motley, a jester, maybe, yet no fool. + +His voice, for all its monotony, is inspiring of gladness and +contentment, whether he utters his thin, sharp chip or full-mouthed +cluck, or laughs a chittering mockery as he scurries in at his narrow +door. + +He winds along his crooked pathway of the fence rails and forages for +half-forgotten nuts in the familiar grounds, brown with strewn leaves or +dun with dead grass. Sometimes he ventures to the top rail and climbs to +a giddy ten-foot height on a tree, whence he looks abroad, wondering, on +the wide expanse of an acre. + +Music hath charms for him, and you may entrance him with a softly +whistled tune and entice him to frolic with a herds-grass head gently +moved before him. + +When the fairies have made the white curd of mallow blossoms into +cheeses for the children and the chipmunk, it is a pretty sight to see +him gathering his share handily and toothily stripping off the green +covers, filling his cheek pouches with the dainty disks and scampering +away to his cellar with his ungrudged portion. Alack the day, when the +sweets of the sprouting corn tempt him to turn rogue, for then he +becomes a banned outlaw, and the sudden thunder of the gun announces +his tragic fate. He keeps well the secret of constructing his cunning +house, without a show of heaped or scattered soil at its entrance. +Bearing himself honestly, and escaping his enemies, the cat, the hawk, +and the boy, he lives a long day of happy inoffensive life. Then when +the filmy curtain of the Indian summer falls upon the year again, he +bids us a long good-night. + + + + +IX + +SPRING SHOOTING + + +The Ram makes way for the Bull; March goes out and April comes in with +sunshine and showers, smiles and tears. The sportsman has his gun in +hand again with deadly purpose, as the angler his rod and tackle with +another intention than mere overhauling and putting to rights. The +smiles of April are for them. + +The geese come wedging their way northward; the ducks awaken the silent +marshes with the whistle of their pinions; the snipe come in pairs and +wisps to the thawing bogs--all on their way to breeding grounds and +summer homes. The tears of April are for them. Wherever they stop for a +day's or an hour's rest, and a little food to strengthen and hearten +them for their long journey, the deadly, frightful gun awaits to kill, +maim, or terrify, more merciless than all the ills that nature inflicts +in her unkindest moods. + +Year after year men go on making laws and crying for more, to protect +these fowl in summer, but in spring, when as much as ever they need +protection, the hand of man is ruthlessly against them. + +When you made that splendid shot last night in the latest gloaming that +would show you the sight of your gun, and cut down that ancient goose, +tougher than the leather of your gun-case, and almost as edible, of how +many well-grown young geese of next November did you cheat yourself, or +some one else of the brotherhood? + +When from the puddle, where they were bathing their tired wings, sipping +the nectar of muddy water, and nibbling the budding leaves of water +weeds, you started that pair of ducks yesterday, and were so proud of +tumbling them down right and left, you killed many more than you saw +then; many that you might have seen next fall. + +When the sun was shining down so warm upon the steaming earth that the +robins and bluebirds sang May songs, those were very good shots you +made, killing ten snipe straight and clean, and--they were very bad +shots. For in November the ten might have been four times ten fat and +lusty, lazy fellows, boring the oozy margins of these same pools where +the frogs are croaking and the toads are singing to-day. + +"Well, it's a long time to wait from November till the earth ripens and +browns to autumn again. Life is short and shooting days are few at most. +Let us shoot our goose while we may, though she would lay a golden egg +by and by." + +Farmers do not kill their breeding ewes in March, nor butcher cows that +are to calve in a month; it does not pay. Why should sportsmen be less +provident of the stock they prize so dearly; stock that has so few +care-takers, so many enemies? Certainly, it does not pay in the long +run. + + + + +X + +THE GARTER-SNAKE + + +When the returned crows have become such familiar objects in the forlorn +unclad landscape of early spring that they have worn out their first +welcome, and the earliest songbirds have come to stay in spite of +inhospitable weather that seems for days to set the calendar back a +month, the woods invite you more than the fields. There nature is least +under man's restraint and gives the first signs of her reawakening. In +windless nooks the sun shines warmest between the meshes of the slowly +drifting net of shadows. + +There are patches of moss on gray rocks and tree trunks. Fairy islands +of it, that will not be greener when they are wet with summer showers, +arise among the brown expanse of dead leaves. The gray mist of branches +and undergrowth is enlivened with a tinge of purple. Here and there the +tawny mat beneath is uplifted by the struggling plant life below it or +pierced through by an underthrust of a sprouting seed. There is a +promise of bloom in blushing arbutus buds, a promise even now fulfilled +by the first squirrelcups just out of their furry bracts and already +calling the bees abroad. Flies are buzzing to and fro in busy idleness, +and a cricket stirs the leaves with a sudden spasm of movement. The +first of the seventeen butterflies that shall give boys the freedom of +bare feet goes wavering past like a drifting blossom. + +A cradle knoll invites you to a seat on the soft, warm cushion of dead +leaves and living moss and purple sprigs of wintergreen with their blobs +of scarlet berries, which have grown redder and plumper under every snow +of the winter. This smoothly rounded mound and the hollow scooped beside +it, brimful now of amber, sun-warmed water, mark the ancient place of a +great tree that was dead and buried, and all traces by which its kind +could be identified were mouldered away and obliterated, before you were +born. + +The incessant crackling purr of the wood-frogs is interrupted at your +approach, and they disappear till the wrinkled surface of the oblong +pool grows smooth again and you perceive them sprawled along the bottom +on the leaf paving of their own color. As you cast a casual glance on +your prospective seat, carelessly noting the mingling of many hues, the +brightness of the berries seems most conspicuous, till a moving curved +and recurved gleam of gold on black and a flickering flash of red catch +your eye and startle you with an involuntary revulsion. + +With charmed eyes held by this new object, you grope blindly for a stick +or stone. But, if you find either, forbear to strike. Do not blot out +one token of spring's awakening nor destroy one life that rejoices in +it, even though it be so humble a life as that of a poor garter-snake. +He is so harmless to man, that, were it not for the old, unreasoning +antipathy, our hands would not be raised against him; and, if he were +not a snake, we should call him beautiful in his stripes of black and +gold, and in graceful motion--a motion that charms us in the undulation +of waves, in their flickering reflections of sunlight on rushy margins +and wooded shores, in the winding of a brook through a meadow, in the +flutter of a pennant and the flaunting of a banner, the ripple of +wind-swept meadow and grain field, and the sway of leafy boughs. His +colors are fresh and bright as ever you will see them, though he has but +to-day awakened from a long sleep in continual darkness. + +He is simply enjoying the free air and warm sunshine without a thought +of food for all his months of fasting. Perhaps he has forgotten that +miserable necessity of existence. When at last he remembers that he has +an appetite, you can scarcely imagine that he can have any pleasure in +satisfying it with one huge mouthful of twice or thrice the ordinary +diameter of his gullet. If you chance to witness his slow and painful +gorging of a frog, you hear a cry of distress that might be uttered with +equal cause by victim or devourer. When he has fully entered upon the +business of reawakened life, many a young field-mouse and noxious +insect will go into his maw to his own and your benefit. If there go +also some eggs and callow young of ground-nesting birds, why should you +question his right, you, who defer slaughter out of pure selfishness, +that a little later you may make havoc among the broods of woodcock and +grouse? + +Of all living things, only man disturbs the nicely adjusted balance of +nature. The more civilized he becomes the more mischievous he is. The +better he calls himself, the worse he is. For uncounted centuries the +bison and the Indian shared a continent, but in two hundred years or so +the white man has destroyed the one and spoiled the other. + +Surely there is little harm in this lowly bearer of a name honored in +knighthood, and the motto of the noble order might be the legend written +on his gilded mail, "Evil to him who evil thinks." If this sunny patch +of earth is not wide enough for you to share with him, leave it to him +and choose another for yourself. The world is wide enough for both to +enjoy this season of its promise. + + + + +XI + +THE TOAD + + +During our summer acquaintance with her, when we see her oftenest, a +valued inhabitant of our garden and a welcome twilight visitor at our +threshold, we associate silence with the toad, almost as intimately as +with the proverbially silent clam. In the drouthy or too moist summer +days and evenings, she never awakens our hopes or fears with shrill +prophecies of rain as does her nimbler and more aspiring cousin, the +tree-toad. + +A rustle of the cucumber leaves that embower her cool retreat, the spat +and shuffle of her short, awkward leaps, are the only sounds that then +betoken her presence, and we listen in vain for even a smack of pleasure +or audible expression of self-approval, when, after a nervous, +gratulatory wriggle of her hinder toes, she dips forward and, with a +lightning-like out-flashing of her unerring tongue, she flicks into her +jaws a fly or bug. She only winks contentedly to express complete +satisfaction at her performance and its result. + +Though summer's torrid heat cannot warm her to any voice, springtime and +love make her tuneful, and every one hears the softly trilled, +monotonous song jarring the mild air, but few know who is the singer. +The drumming grouse is not shyer of exhibiting his performance. + +From a sun-warmed pool not fifty yards away a full chorus of the rapidly +vibrant voices arises, and you imagine that the performers are so +absorbed with their music that you may easily draw near and observe +them. But when you come to the edge of the pool you see only a +half-dozen concentric circles of wavelets, widening from central points, +where as many musicians have modestly withdrawn beneath the transparent +curtain. + +Wait, silent and motionless, and they will reappear. A brown head is +thrust above the surface, and presently your last summer's familiar of +the garden and doorstep crawls slowly out upon a barren islet of +cobble-stone, and, assured that no intruder is within the precincts +sacred to the wooing of the toads, she inflates her throat and tunes up +her long, monotonous chant. Ere it ceases, another and another take it +up, and from distant pools you hear it answered, till all the air is +softly shaken as if with the clear chiming of a hundred swift-struck, +tiny bells. They ring in the returning birds, robin, sparrow, finch and +meadow lark, and the first flowers, squirrelcup, arbutus, bloodroot, +adder-tongue and moose-flower. + +When the bobolink has come to his northern domain again and the oriole +flashes through the budding elms and the first columbine droops over the +gray ledges, you may still hear an occasional ringing of the toads, but +a little later the dignified and matronly female, having lost her voice +altogether, has returned to her summer home, while her little mate has +exchanged his trill for a disagreeable and uncanny squawk, perhaps a +challenge to his rivals, who linger about the scenes of their courtship +and make night hideous until midsummer. Then a long silence falls on the +race of toads--a silence which even hibernation scarcely deepens. + + + + +XII + +MAY DAYS + + +The lifeless dun of the close-cropped southward slopes and the tawny +tangles of the swales are kindling to living green with the blaze of the +sun and the moist tinder of the brook's overflow. + +The faithful swallows have returned, though the faithless season delays. +The flicker flashes his golden shafts in the sunlight and gladdens the +ear with his merry cackle. The upland plover wails his greeting to the +tussocked pastures, where day and night rings the shrill chorus of the +hylas and the trill of the toads continually trembles in the soft air. + +The first comers of the birds are already mated and nest-building, robin +and song sparrow each in his chosen place setting the foundations of his +house with mud or threads of dry grass. The crow clutters out his +softest love note. The flicker is mining a fortress in the heart of an +old apple-tree. + +The squirrels wind a swift ruddy chain about a boll in their love chase, +and even now you may surprise the vixen fox watching the first gambols +of her tawny cubs by the sunny border of the woods. + +The gray haze of undergrowth and lofty ramage is turning to a misty +green, and the shadows of opening buds knot the meshed shadows of twigs +on the brown forest floor, which is splashed with white moose-flowers +and buds of bloodroot, like ivory-tipped arrows, each in a green quiver, +and yellow adder-tongues bending above their mottled beds, and rusty +trails of arbutus leaves leading to the secret of their hidden bloom, +which their fragrance half betrays. + +Marsh marigolds lengthen their golden chain, link by link, along the +ditches. The maples are yellow with paler bloom, and the graceful +birches are bent with their light burden of tassels. The dandelion +answers the sun, the violet the sky. Blossom and greenness are +everywhere; even the brown paths of the plough and harrow are greening +with springing grain. + +We listen to the cuckoo's monotonous flute among the white drifts of +orchard bloom and the incessant murmur of bees, the oriole's half +plaintive carol as of departed joys in the elms, and the jubilant song +of the bobolink in the meadows, where he is not an outlaw but a welcome +guest, mingling his glad notes with the merry voices of flower-gathering +children, as by and by he will with the ringing cadence of the scythe +and the vibrant chirr of the mower. Down by the flooded marshes the +scarlet of the water maples and the flash of the starling's wing are +repeated in the broad mirror of the still water. The turtle basks on the +long incline of stranded logs. + +Tally-sticks cast adrift are a symbol that the trapper's warfare against +the muskrats is ended and that the decimated remnant of the tribe is +left in peace to reëstablish itself. The spendthrift waste of untimely +shooting is stayed. Wild duck, plover, and snipe have entered upon the +enjoyment of a summer truce that will be unbroken, if the collector is +not abroad at whose hands science ruthlessly demands mating birds and +callow brood. + +Of all sportsmen only the angler, often attended by his winged brother +the kingfisher, is astir, wandering by pleasant waters where the bass +lurks in the tangles of an eddy's writhing currents, or the perch poises +and then glides through the intangible golden meshes that waves and +sunlight knit, or where the trout lies poised beneath the silver domes +of foam bells. + +The loon laughs again on the lake. Again the freed waves toss the +shadows of the shores and the white reflections of white sails, and +flash back the sunlight or the glitter of stars and the beacon's +rekindled gleam. + +Sun and sky, forest, field, and water, bird and blossom, declare the +fullness of spring and the coming of summer. + + + + +XIII + +THE BOBOLINK + + +The woods have changed from the purple of swelling buds to the tender +grayish green of opening leaves, and the sward is green again with new +grass, when this pied troubadour, more faithful to the calendar than +leaf or flower, comes back from his southern home to New England meadows +to charm others than his dusky ladylove with his merry song. He seldom +disappoints us by more than a day in the date of his arrival, and never +fails to receive a kindly welcome, though the fickle weather may be +unkind. + +"The bobolinks have come" is as joyful a proclamation as announces the +return of the bluebird and robin. Here no shotted salute of gun awaits +him, and he is aware that he is in a friendly country. Though he does +not court familiarity, he tolerates approach; and permits you to come +within a dozen yards of the fence stake he has alighted on, and when +you come nearer he goes but to the next, singing the prelude or finale +of his song as he flies. Fewer yards above your head he poises on wing +to sing it from beginning to end, you know not whether with intent to +taunt you or to charm you, but he only accomplishes the latter. He seems +to know that he does not harm us and that he brings nothing that we +should not lose by killing him. Yet how cunningly he and his mate hide +their nest in the even expanse of grass. That is a treasure he will not +trust us with the secret of, and, though there may be a dozen in the +meadow, we rarely find one. + +Our New England fathers had as kindly a feeling for this blithe comer to +their stumpy meadows, though they gave him the uncouth and malodorous +name of skunk blackbird. He sang as sweetly to them as he does to us, +and he too was a discoverer and a pioneer, finding and occupying meadows +full of sunshine where had only been the continual shade of the forest, +where no bobolink had ever been before. Now he has miles of grassy +sunlit fields wherein he sings violet and buttercup, daisy and clover +into bloom and strawberries into ripeness, and his glad song mingles +with the happy voices of the children who come to gather them, and also +chimes with the rarer music of the whetted scythe. + +Then, long before the summer is past, he assumes the sober dress of his +mate and her monosyllabic note, and fades so gradually out of our sight +and hearing that he departs without our being aware of it. Summer still +burns with unabated fervor, when we suddenly realize that there are no +bobolinks. Nor are there any under the less changeful skies whither our +changed bird has flown to be a reed-bird or rice-bird and to find +mankind his enemies. He is no longer a singer but a gourmand and valued +only as a choice morsel, doubtless delicious, yet one that should choke +a New Englander. + + + + +XIV + +THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER + + +The migrant woodpecker whose cheery cackle assures us of the certainty +of spring is rich in names that well befit him. If you take to +high-sounding titles for your humble friends, you will accept _Colaptes +auratus_, as he flies above you, borrowing more gold of the sunbeams +that shine through his yellow pinions, or will be content to call him +simply golden-winged. When he flashes his wings in straight-away flight +before you, or sounds his sharp, single note of alarm, or peers down +from the door of his lofty tower, or hangs on its wooden wall, or +clinging to a fence stake displays his mottled back, you recognize the +fitness of each name the country folk have given him--flicker, +yellow-hammer, yarrup, highhole or highholder, and what Thoreau often +termed him, partridge-woodpecker. It is a wonder that the joyous cackle +wherewith he announces his return from his winter sojourn in the South +has not gained him another, and that love note, so like the slow +whetting of a knife upon a steel, still another. Perhaps it is because +they are especially sounds of spring and seldom if ever heard after the +season of joyful arrival and love-making. + +During the same season you frequently hear him attuning his harsh sharp +voice to its softest note of endearment, a long-drawn and modulated +variation of his cackle. When household cares begin, the lord and lady +of the wooden tower, like too many greater and wiser two-legged folk, +give over singing and soft words. At home and abroad their deportment is +sober and business-like, and except for an occasional alarm-cry they are +mostly silent. + +As you wander through the orchard of an early midsummer day and pause +beside an old apple-tree to listen to the cuckoo's flute or admire the +airy fabric of the wood pewee's nest, a larger scale of lichen on the +lichened boughs, you hear a smothered vibrant murmur close beside you, +as if the heart of the old tree was pulsating with audible life. It is +startlingly suggestive of disturbed yellow-jackets, but when you move +around the trunk in cautious reconnoissance, you discover the round +portal of a flicker's home, and the sound resolves itself into +harmlessness. It is only the callow young clamoring for food, or +complaining of their circumscribed quarters. + +Not many days hence they will be out in the wide world of air and +sunshine of which they now know as little as when they chipped the +shell. Lusty fellows they will be then, with much of their parents' +beauty already displayed in their bright new plumage and capable of an +outcry that will hold a bird-eating cat at bay. A little later they will +be, as their parents are, helpful allies against the borers, the +insidious enemies of our apple-tree. It is a warfare which the +groundling habits of the golden-wings make them more ready to engage in +than any other of the woodpecker clans. + +In sultry August weather, when the shrill cry of the cicada pierces the +hot air like a hotter needle of sound, and the dry husky beat of his +wings emphasizes the apparent fact of drouth as you walk on the +desiccated slippery herbage of meadow and pasture, the golden-wings with +all their grown-up family fly up before you from their feast on the ant +hills and go flashing and flickering away like rockets shot aslant, into +the green tent of the wild cherry trees to their dessert of juicy black +fruit. + +Early in the dreariness of November, they have vanished with all the +horde of summer residents who have made the season of leaf, flower, and +fruit the brighter by their presence. The desolate leafless months go +by, till at last comes the promise of spring, and you are aware of a +half unconscious listening for the golden-wings. Presently the loud, +long, joyous iteration breaks upon your ear, and you hail the +fulfillment of the promise and the blithe new comer, a golden link in +the lengthening chain that is encircling the earth. + + + + +XV + +JUNE DAYS + + +June brings skies of purest blue, flecked with drifts of silver, fields +and woods in the flush of fresh verdure, with the streams winding among +them in crystal loops that invite the angler with promise of more than +fish, something that tackle cannot lure nor creel hold. + +The air is full of the perfume of locust and grape bloom, the spicy odor +of pine and fir, and of pleasant voices--the subdued murmur of the +brook's changing babble, the hum of bees, the stir of the breeze, the +songs of birds. Out of the shady aisles of the woods come the flute note +of the hermit thrush, the silvery chime of the tawny thrush; and from +the forest border, where the lithe birches swing their shadows to and +fro along the bounds of wood and field, comes that voice of June, the +cuckoo's gurgling note of preparation, and then the soft, monotonous +call that centuries ago gave him a name. + +General Kukushna the exiles in Siberia entitle him; and when they hear +his voice, every one who can break bounds is irresistibly drawn to +follow him, and live for a brief season a free life in the greenwood. As +to many weary souls and hampered bodies there, so to many such here +comes the voice of the little commander, now persuasive, now imperative, +not to men and women in exile or wearing the convict's garb, but +suffering some sort of servitude laid upon them or self-imposed. Toiling +for bread, for wealth, for fame, they are alike in bondage--chained to +the shop, the farm, the desk, the office. + +Some who hear, obey, and revel in the brief but delightful freedom of +June days spent in the perfumed breath of full-leafed woods, by cold +water-brooks and rippled lakes. Others listen with hungry hearts to the +summons, but cannot loose their fetters, and can only answer with a +sigh, "It is not for me," or "Not yet," and toil on, still hoping for +future days of freedom. + +But saddest of all is the case of such as hear not, or, hearing, heed +not the voice of the Kukushna, the voices of the birds, the murmurous +droning of bees amid the blossoms, the sweet prattle of running waters +and dancing waves. Though these come to them from all about, and all +about them are unfolded the manifold beauties of this joyous month, no +sign is made to them. Their dull ears hear not the voices of nature, +neither do their dim eyes see the wondrous miracle of spring which has +been wrought all about them. Like the man with the muck-rake, they toil +on, intent only upon the filth and litter at their feet. Sad indeed must +it be to have a soul so poor that it responds to no caress of nature, +sadder than any imposition of servitude or exile which yet hinders not +one's soul from arising with intense longing for the wild world of woods +and waters when Kukushna sounds his soft trumpet call. + + + + +XVI + +THE BULLFROG + + +The flooded expanse of the marshes has shrunken perceptibly along its +shoreward boundaries, leaving a mat of dead weeds, bits of driftwood, +and a water-worn selvage of bare earth to mark its widest limits. The +green tips of the rushes are thrust above the amber shallows, whereon +flotillas of water-shield lie anchored in the sun, while steel-blue +devil's-needles sew the warm air with intangible threads of zigzag +flight. + +The meshed shadows of the water-maples are full of the reflections of +the green and silver of young leaves. The naked tangle of button-bushes +has become a green island, populous with garrulous colonies of redwings. +The great flocks of wild ducks that came to the reopened waters have had +their holiday rest, and journeyed onward to summer homes and cares in +the further north. The few that remain are in scattered pairs and +already in the silence and seclusion of nesting. You rarely see the +voyaging muskrat or hear his plaintive love calls. + +Your ear has long been accustomed to the watery clangor of the bittern, +when a new yet familiar sound strikes it, the thin, vibrant bass of the +first bullfrog's note. It may be lacking in musical quality, but it is +attuned to its surroundings, and you are glad that the green-coated +player has at last recovered his long-submerged banjo, and is twanging +its water-soaked strings in prelude to the summer concert. He is a +little out of practice, and his instrument is slightly out of tune, but +a few days' use will restore both touch and resonance, when he and his +hundred brethren shall awaken the marsh-haunting echoes and the sleeping +birds with a grand twilight recital. It will reach your ears a mile +away, and draw you back to the happy days of boyhood, when you listened +for the bullfrogs to tell that fish would bite, and it was time for boys +to go a-fishing. + +In the first days of his return to the upper world of water, this old +acquaintance may be shy, and neither permit nor offer any familiarity. +The fixed placidity of his countenance is not disturbed by your +approach, but if you overstep by one pace what he considers the proper +limit, down goes his head under cover of the flood. Marking his jerky +course with an underwake and a shiver of the rushes, he reappears, to +calmly observe you from a safer distance. + +Custom outwears his diffidence, and the fervid sun warms him to more +genial moods, when he will suffer you to come quietly quite close to him +and tickle his sides with a bullrush, till in an ecstasy of pleasure he +loses all caution, and bears with supreme contentment the titillation of +your finger tips. His flabby sides swell with fullness of enjoyment, his +blinking eyes grow dreamy and the corners of his blandly expressionless +mouth almost curve upward with an elusive smile. Not till your fingers +gently close upon him does he become aware of the indiscretion into +which he has lapsed, and with a frantic struggle he tears himself away +from your grasp and goes plunging headlong into his nether element, +bellowing out his shame and astonishment. + +Another day as you troll along the channel an oar's length from the +weedy borders, you see him afloat on his lily-pad raft, heeding you no +more than does the golden-hearted blossom whose orange odor drifts about +him, nor is he disturbed by splash of oar nor dip of paddle, nor even +when his bark and her perfume-freighted consort are tossed on your +undulating wake. + +As summer wanes you see and hear him less frequently, but he is still +your comrade of the marshes, occasionally announcing his presence with a +resonant twang and a jerky splash among the sedges. + +The pickerel weeds have struck their blue banners to the conquering +frost, and the marshes are sere, and silent, and desolate. When they are +warmed again with the new life of spring, we shall listen for the +jubilant chorus of our old acquaintance, the bullfrog. + + + + +XVII + +THE ANGLER + + +I + +Angling is set down by the master of the craft, whom all revere but none +now follow, as the Contemplative Man's Recreation; but is the angler, +while angling, a contemplative man? + +That beloved and worthy brother whose worm-baited hook dangles in quiet +waters, placid as his mind--till some wayfaring perch, or bream, or +bullhead shall by chance come upon it, he, meanwhile, with rod set in +the bank, taking his ease upon the fresh June sward, not touching his +tackle nor regarding it but with the corner of an eye--he may +contemplate and dream day dreams. He may watch the clouds drifting +across the blue, the green branches waving between him and them, +consider the lilies of the field, note the songs of the catbird in the +willow thicket, watch the poise and plunge of the kingfisher, and so +spend all the day with nature and his own lazy thoughts. That is what he +came for. Angling with him is only a pretense, an excuse to pay a visit +to the great mother whom he so dearly loves; and if he carries home not +so much as a scale, he is happy and content. + +But how is it with him who comes stealing along with such light tread +that it scarcely crushes the violets or shakes the dewdrops from the +ferns, and casts his flies with such precise skill upon the very +handsbreadth of water that gives most promise to his experienced eye; or +drops his minnow with such care into the eddying pool, where he feels a +bass must lie awaiting it. Eye and ear and every organ of sense are +intent upon the sport for which he came. He sees only the images of the +clouds, no branch but that which impedes him or offers cover to his +stealthy approach. His ear is more alert for the splash of fishes than +for bird songs. With his senses go all his thoughts, and float not away +in day dreams. + +Howsoever much he loves her, for the time while he hath rod in hand +Mother Nature is a fish-woman, and he prays that she may deal generously +with him. Though he be a parson, his thoughts tend not to religion; +though a savant, not to science; though a statesman, not to politics; +though an artist, to no art save the art of angling. So far removed from +all these while he casts his fly or guides his minnow, how much further +is his soul from all but the matter in hand when a fish has taken the +one or the other, and all his skill is taxed to the utmost to bring his +victim to creel. Heresy and paganism may prevail, the light of science +be quenched, the country go to the dogs, pictures go unpainted, and +statues unmoulded till he has saved this fish. + +When the day is spent, the day's sport done, and he wends his way +homeward with a goodly score, satisfied with himself and all the world +besides, he may ponder on many things apart from that which has this day +taken him by green fields and pleasant waters. Now he may brood his +thoughts, and dream dreams; but while he angles, the complete angler is +not a contemplative man. + + +II + +The rivers roaring between their brimming banks; the brooks babbling +over their pebbled beds and cross-stream logs that will be bridges for +the fox in midsummer; the freed waters of lakes and ponds, dashing in +slow beat of waves or quicker pulse of ripples against their shores, in +voices monotonous but never tiresome, now call all who delight in the +craft to go a-fishing. + +With the sap in the aged tree, the blood quickens in the oldest angler's +veins, whether he be of the anointed who fish by the book, or of the +common sort who practice the methods of the forgotten inventors of the +art. + +The first are busy with rods and reels that are a pleasure to the eye +and touch, with fly-books whose leaves are as bright with color as +painted pictures, the others rummaging corner-cupboards for mislaid +lines, searching the sheds for favorite poles of ash, ironwood, +tamarack, or cedar, or perhaps the woods for one just budding on its +sapling stump. + +Each enjoys as much as the other the pleasant labor of preparation and +the anticipation of sport, though perhaps that of the scientific angler +is more ćsthetic enjoyment, as his outfitting is the daintier and more +artistic. But to each comes the recollection of past happy days spent on +lake, river and brook, memories touched with a sense of loss, of days +that can never come again, of comrades gone forever from earthly +companionship. + +And who shall say that the plebeian angler does not enter upon the +untangling of his cotton lines, the trimming of his new cut pole, and +the digging of his worms, with as much zest as his brother of the finer +cast on the testing and mending of lancewood or split bamboo rod, the +overhauling of silken lines and leaders, and the assorting of flies. + + +III + +Considering the younger generation of anglers, one finds more enthusiasm +among those who talk learnedly of all the niceties of the art. They +scorn all fish not acknowledged as game. They plan more, though they may +accomplish less than the common sort to whom all of fishing tackle is a +pole, a line, and a hook. To them fishing is but fishing, and fish are +only fish, and they will go for one or the other when the signs are +right and the day propitious. + +Descending to the least and latest generation of anglers, we see the +conditions reversed. The youth born to rod and reel and fly is not so +enthusiastic in his devotion to the sport as the boy whose birthright is +only the pole that craftsman never fashioned, the kinky lines of the +country store, and hooks known by no maker's name. For it is not in the +nature of a boy to hold to any nicety in sport of any sort, and this +one, being herein unrestrained, enters upon the art called gentle with +all the wild freedom of a young savage or a half-grown mink. + +For him it is almost as good as going fishing, to unearth and gather in +an old teapot the worms, every one of which is to his sanguine vision +the promise of a fish. What completeness of happiness for him to be +allowed to go fishing with his father or grandfather or the acknowledged +great fisherman of the neighborhood, a good-for-nothing ne'er-do-well, +but wise in all the ways of fish and their taking and very careful of +and kind to little boys. + +The high-hole never cackled so merrily, nor meadow lark sang sweeter, +nor grass sprang greener nor water shone brighter than to the boy when +he goes a-fishing thus accompanied. To him is welcome everything that +comes from the waters, be it trout, bass, perch, bullhead, or sunfish, +and he hath pride even in the abominable but toothsome eel and the +uneatable bowfin. + +Well, remembering that we were once boys and are yet anglers, though we +seldom go a-fishing, we wish, in the days of the new springtide, to all +the craft, whether they be of high or low degree, bent and cramped with +the winter of age or flushed with the spring of life, pleasant and +peaceful days of honest sport by all watersides, and full creels and +strings and wythes. + + +IV + +In the soft evenings of April when the air is full of the undefinable +odor of the warming earth and of the incessant rejoicing of innumerable +members of the many families of batrachians, one may see silently moving +lights prowling along the low shores of shallow waters, now hidden by +trunks of great trees that are knee-deep in the still water, now +emerging, illuminating bolls and branches and flashing their glimmering +glades far across the ripples of wake and light breeze. + +If one were near enough he could see the boat of the spearers, its bow +and the intent figure of the spearman aglow in the light of the jack +which flares a backward flame with its steady progress, and drops a slow +shower of sparks, while the stern and the paddler sitting therein are +dimly apparent in the verge of the gloom. + +These may be honest men engaged in no illegal affair; they exercise +skill of a certain sort; they are enthusiastic in the pursuit of their +pastime, which is as fair as jacking deer, a practice upheld by many in +high places; yet these who by somewhat similar methods take fish for +sport and food are not accounted honest fishermen, but arrant poachers. +If jacking deer is right, how can jacking fish be wrong? or if jacking +fish be wrong, how can jacking deer be right? Verily, there are nice +distinctions in the ethics of sport. + + + + +XVIII + +FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS + + "Happy the man whose only care + A few paternal acres bound, + Content to breathe his native air + On his own ground." + + +Happier still is such a one who has a love for the rod and gun, and with +them finds now and then a day's freedom from all cares by the side of +the stream that borders his own acres and in the woods that crest his +knolls or shade his swamp. + +As a rule none of our people take so few days of recreation as the +farmer. Excepting Sundays, two or three days at the county fair, and +perhaps as many more spent in the crowd and discomfort of a cheap +railroad excursion, are all that are given by the ordinary farmer to +anything but the affairs of the farm. It is true that his outdoor life +makes it less necessary for him than for the man whose office or shop +work keeps him mostly indoors, to devote a month or a fortnight of each +year to entire rest from labor. Indeed, he can hardly do this except in +winter, when his own fireside is oftener the pleasantest place for rest. +But he would be the better for more days of healthful pleasure, and many +such he might have if he would so use those odd ones which fall within +his year, when crops are sown and planted or harvested. A day in the +woods or by the stream is better for body and mind than one spent in +idle gossip at the village store, and nine times out of ten better for +the pocket, though one come home without fin or feather to show for his +day's outing. One who keeps his eyes and ears on duty while abroad in +the field can hardly fail to see and hear something new, or, at least, +more interesting and profitable than ordinary gossip, and the wear and +tear of tackle and a few charges of ammunition wasted will cost less +than the treats which are pretty apt to be part of a day's loafing. + +Barring the dearth of the objects of his pursuit, the farmer who goes +a-fishing and a-hunting should not be unsuccessful if he has fair skill +with the rod and gun. For he who knows most of the habits of fish and +game will succeed best in their capture, and no man, except the +naturalist and the professional fisherman and hunter, has a better +chance to gain this knowledge than the farmer, whose life brings him +into everyday companionship with nature. His fields and woods are the +homes and haunts of the birds and beasts of venery, from the beginning +of the year to its end, and in his streams many of the fishes pass their +lives. By his woodside the quail builds her nest, and when the foam of +blossom has dried away on the buckwheat field she leads her young there +to feed on the brown kernel stranded on the coral stems. If he chance to +follow his wood road in early June, the ruffed grouse limps and flutters +along it before him, while her callow chicks vanish as if by a +conjurer's trick from beneath his very footfall. A month later, grown to +the size of robins, they will scatter on the wing from his path with a +vigor that foretells the bold whir and the swiftness of their flight in +their grown-up days, when they will stir the steadiest nerve, whether +they hurtle from an October-painted thicket or from the blue shadows of +untracked snow. No one is likelier to see and hear the strange wooing of +the woodcock in the soft spring evenings, and to the farmer's ear first +comes that assurance of spring, the wail of the Bartram's sandpiper +returning from the South to breed in meadow and pasture, and then in +hollow trees that overhang the river the wood ducks begin to spoil their +holiday attire in the work and care of housekeeping. The fox burrows and +breeds in the farmer's woods. The raccoon's den is there in ledge or +hollow tree. The hare makes her form in the shadow of his evergreens, +where she dons her dress of tawny or white to match the brown floor of +the woods or its soft covering of snow. The bass comes to his river in +May to spawn, the pike-perch for food, and the perch lives there, as +perhaps the trout does in his brook. + +All these are his tenants, or his summer boarders, and if he knows not +something of their lives, and when and where to find them at home or in +their favorite resorts, he is a careless landlord. His life will be the +pleasanter for the interest he takes in theirs, and the skill he +acquires in bringing them to bag and creel. + + + + +XIX + +TO A TRESPASS SIGN + + +Scene, _A Wood. An old man with a fishing-rod speaks_:-- + +What strange object is this which I behold, incongruous in its staring +whiteness of fresh paint and black lettering, its straightness of lines +and abrupt irregularity amid the soft tints and graceful curves of this +sylvan scene? As I live, a trespass sign! + +Thou inanimate yet most impertinent thing, dumb yet commanding me with +most imperative words to depart hence, how dost thou dare forbid my +entrance upon what has so long been my own, even as it is the birds' and +beasts' and fishes', not by lease or title deed, but of natural right? +Hither from time immemorial have they come at will and so departed at no +man's behest, as have I since the happy days when a barefoot boy I cast +my worm-baited hook among the crystal foam bells, or bearing the heavy +burden of my grandsire's rusty flint-lock, I stalked the wily grouse in +the diurnal twilight of these thickets. + +Here was I thrilled by the capture of my first trout; here exulted over +the downfall of my first woodcock; here, grown to man's estate, I +learned to cast the fly; here beheld my first dog draw on his game, and +here, year after year, till my locks have grown gray, have I come, sharp +set with months of longing, to live again for a little while the +carefree days of youth. + +Never have I been bidden to depart but by storm or nightfall or satiety, +until now thou confrontest me with thy impudent mandate, thou, thou +contemptible, but yet not to be despised nor unheeded parallelogram of +painted deal, with thy legal phrases and impending penalties; thou, the +silent yet terribly impressive representative of men whose purses are +longer than mine! + +What is their right to this stream, these woods, compared with mine? +Theirs is only gained by purchase, confirmed by scrawled parchment, +signed and sealed; mine a birthright, as always I hoped it might be of +my sons and my sons' sons. What to the usurpers of our rights are these +woods and waters but a place for the killing of game and fish? They do +not love, as a man the roof-tree where-under he was born, these arches +and low aisles of the woods; they do not know as I do every silver loop +of the brook, every tree whose quivering reflection throbs across its +eddies; its voice is only babble to their ears, the song of the pines +tells them no story of bygone years. + +Of all comers here, I who expected most kindly welcome am most +inhospitably treated. All my old familiars, the birds, the beasts, and +the fishes, may fly over thee, walk beneath thee, swim around thee, but +to me thou art a wall that I may not pass. + +I despise thee and spit upon thee, thou most impudent intruder, thou +insolent sentinel, thou odious monument of selfishness, but I dare not +lay hands upon thee and cast thee down and trample thee in the dust of +the earth as thou shouldst of right be entreated. To rid myself of thy +hateful sight, I can only turn my back upon thee and depart with sorrow +and anger in my heart. + +Mayst thou keep nothing but disappointment for the greedy wretches who +set thee here. + + + + +XX + +A GENTLE SPORTSMAN + + +All the skill of woodcraft that goes to the making of the successful +hunter with the gun, must be possessed by him who hunts his game with +the camera. His must be the stealthy, panther-like tread that breaks no +twig nor rustles the fallen leaves. His the eye that reads at a glance +the signs that to the ordinary sight are a blank or at most are an +untranslatable enigma. His a patience that counts time as nothing when +measured with the object sought. When by the use and practice of these, +he has drawn within a closer range of his timid game than his brother of +the gun need attain, he pulls trigger of a weapon that destroys not, but +preserves its unharmed quarry in the very counterfeit of life and +motion. The wild world is not made the poorer by one life for his shot, +nor nature's peace disturbed, nor her nicely adjusted balance jarred. + +He bears home his game, wearing still its pretty ways of life in the +midst of its loved surroundings, the swaying hemlock bough where the +grouse perched, the bending ferns about the deer's couch, the dew-beaded +sedges where the woodcock skulks in the shadows of the alders, the +lichened trunks and dim vistas of primeval woods, the sheen of voiceless +waterfalls, the flash of sunlit waves that never break. + +His trophies the moth may not assail. His game touches a finer sense +than the palate possesses, satisfies a nobler appetite than the +stomach's craving, and furnishes forth a feast that, ever spread, ever +invites, and never palls upon the taste. + +Moreover, this gentlest of sportsmen is hampered by no restrictions of +close time, nor confronted by penalties of trespass. All seasons are +open for his bloodless forays, all woods and waters free to his harmless +weapon. + +Neither is he trammeled by any nice distinctions as to what may or may +not be considered game. Everything counts in his score. The eagle on +his craggy perch, the high-hole on his hollow tree, are as legitimate +game for him as the deer and grouse. All things beautiful and wild and +picturesque are his, yet he kills them not, but makes them a living and +enduring joy, to himself and all who behold them. + + + + +XXI + +JULY DAYS + + +The woods are dense with full-grown leafage. Of all the trees, only the +basswood has delayed its blossoming, to crown the height of summer and +fill the sun-steeped air with a perfume that calls all the wild bees +from hollow tree and scant woodside gleaning to a wealth of honey +gathering, and all the hive-dwellers from their board-built homes to a +finer and sweeter pillage than is offered by the odorous white sea of +buckwheat. Half the flowers of wood and fields are out of bloom. +Herdsgrass, clover and daisy are falling before the mower. The early +grain fields have already caught the color of the sun, and the tasseling +corn rustles its broad leaves above the rich loam that the woodcock +delights to bore. + +The dwindling streams have lost their boisterous clamor of springtide +and wimple with subdued voices over beds too shallow to hide a minnow +or his poised shadow on the sunlit shallows. The sharp eye of the angler +probes the green depths of the slowly swirling pools, and discovers the +secrets of the big fish which congregate therein. + +The river has marked the stages of its decreasing volume with many lines +along its steep banks. It discloses the muskrat's doorway, to which he +once dived so gracefully, but now must clumsily climb to. Rafts of +driftwood bridge the shallow current sunk so low that the lithe willows +bend in vain to kiss its warm bosom. This only the swaying trails of +water-weeds and rustling sedges toy with now; and swift-winged swallows +coyly touch. There is not depth to hide the scurrying schools of +minnows, the half of whom fly into the air in a curving burst of silver +shower before the rush of a pickerel, whose green and mottled sides +gleam like a swift-shot arrow in the downright sunbeams. + +The sandpiper tilts along the shelving shore. Out of an embowered harbor +a wood duck convoys her fleet of ducklings, and on the ripples of +their wake the anchored argosies of the water lilies toss and cast +adrift their cargoes of perfume. Above them the green heron perches on +an overhanging branch, uncouth but alert, whether sentinel or scout, +flapping his awkward way along the ambient bends and reaches. With slow +wing-beats he signals the coming of some more lazily moving boat, that +drifts at the languid will of the current or indolent pull of oars that +grate on the golden-meshed sand and pebbles. + +Lazily, unexpectantly, the angler casts his line, to be only a +convenient perch for the dragonflies; for the fish, save the affrighted +minnows and the hungry pickerel, are as lazy as he. To-day he may enjoy +to the full the contemplative man's recreation, nor have his +contemplations disturbed by any finny folk of the under-water world, +while dreamily he floats in sunshine and dappled shadow, so at one with +the placid waters and quiet shores that wood duck, sandpiper, and heron +scarcely note his unobtrusive presence. + +No such easy and meditative pastime attends his brother of the gun +who, sweating under the burden of lightest apparel and equipment, beats +the swampy covers where beneath the sprawling alders and arching fronds +of fern the woodcock hides. Not a breath stirs the murky atmosphere of +these depths of shade, hotter than sunshine; not a branch nor leaf moves +but with his struggling passage, or marking with a wake of waving +undergrowth the course of his unseen dog. + +Except this rustling of branches, sedges and ferns, the thin, continuous +piping of the swarming mosquitoes, the busy tapping and occasional harsh +call of a woodpecker, scarcely a sound invades the hot silence, till the +wake of the hidden dog ceases suddenly and the waving brakes sway with +quickening vibrations into stillness behind him. Then, his master draws +cautiously near, with gun at a ready and an unheeded mosquito drilling +his nose, the fern leaves burst apart with a sudden shiver, and a +woodcock, uttering that shrill unexplained twitter, upsprings in a halo +of rapid wing-beats and flashes out of sight among leaves and branches. +As quick, the heelplate strikes the alert gunner's shoulder, and, as if +in response to the shock, the short unechoed report jars the silence of +the woods. As if out of the cloud of sulphurous smoke, a shower of +leaves flutter down, with a quicker patter of dry twigs and shards of +bark, and among all these a brown clod drops lifeless and inert to +mother earth. + +A woodcock is a woodcock, though but three-quarters grown; and the shot +one that only a quick eye and ready hand may accomplish; but would not +the achievement have been more worthy, the prize richer, the sport +keener in the gaudy leafage and bracing air of October, rather than in +this sweltering heat, befogged with clouds of pestering insects, when +every step is a toil, every moment a torture? Yet men deem it sport and +glory if they do not delight in its performance. The anxious note and +behavior of mother song-birds, whose poor little hearts are in as great +a flutter as their wings concerning their half-grown broods, hatched +coincidently with the woodcock, is proof enough to those who would heed +it, that this is not a proper season for shooting. But in some northerly +parts of our wide country it is woodcock now or never, for the birds +bred still further northward are rarely tempted by the cosiest copse or +half-sunned hillside of open woods to linger for more than a day or two, +as they fare southward, called to warmer days of rest and frostless +moonlit nights of feeding under kindlier skies. + +While the nighthawk's monotonous cry and intermittent boom and the +indistinct voice of the whippoorwill ring out in the late twilight of +the July evenings, the alarmed, half-guttural chuckle of the grass +plover is heard, so early migrating in light marching order, thin in +flesh but strong of wing, a poor prize for the gunner whose ardor +outruns his humanity and better judgment. Lean or fat, a plover is a +plover, but would that he might tarry with us till the plump +grasshoppers of August and September had clothed his breast and ribs +with fatness. + +Well, let him go, if so soon he will. So let the woodcock go, to offer +his best to more fortunate sportsmen. What does it profit us to kill +merely for the sake of killing, and have to show therefor but a beggarly +account of bones and feathers? Are there not grouse and quail and +woodcock waiting for us, and while we wait for them can we not content +ourselves with indolent angling by shaded streams in these melting days +of July rather than contribute the blaze and smoke of gunpowder to the +heat and murkiness of midsummer? If we must shed blood let us tap the +cool veins of the fishes, not the hot arteries of brooding mother birds +and their fledgelings. + + + + +XXII + +CAMPING OUT + + +"Camping out" is becoming merely a name for moving out of one's +permanent habitation and dwelling for a few weeks in a well-built lodge, +smaller than one's home, but as comfortable and almost as convenient; +with tables, chairs and crockery, carpets and curtains, beds with sheets +and blankets on real bedsteads, a stove and its full outfit of cooking +utensils, wherefrom meals are served in the regular ways of +civilization. Living in nearly the same fashion of his ordinary life, +except that he wears a flannel shirt and a slouch hat, and fishes a +little and loafs more than is his ordinary custom, our "camper" imagines +that he is getting quite close to the primitive ways of hunters and +trappers; that he is living their life with nothing lacking but the +rough edges, which he has ingeniously smoothed away. He is mistaken. In +ridding himself of some of its discomforts, he has lost a great deal of +the best of real camp life; the spice of small adventure, and the woodsy +flavor that its half-hardships and makeshift appliances give it. If one +sleeps a little cold under his one blanket on his bed of evergreen +twigs, though he does not take cold, he realizes in some degree the +discomfort of Boone's bivouac when he cuddled beside his hounds to keep +from freezing--and feels slightly heroic. His slumbers are seasoned with +dreams of the wild woods, as the balsamic perfume of his couch steals +into his nostrils; his companions' snores invade his drowsy senses as +the growl of bears, and the thunderous whir of grouse bursting out of +untrodden thickets. When he awakes in the gray of early morning he finds +that the few hours of sleep have wrought a miracle of rest, and he feels +himself nearer to nature when he washes his face in the brook, than when +he rinses off his sleepiness in bowl or basin. The water of the spring +is colder and has a finer flavor when he drinks it from a birch bark +cup of his own making. Tea made in a frying-pan has an aroma never known +to such poor mortals as brew their tea in a teapot, and no mill ever +ground such coffee as that which is tied up in a rag and pounded with a +stone or hatchet-head. A sharpened stick for a fork gives a zest to the +bit of pork "frizzled" on as rude a spit and plattered on a clean chip +or a sheet of bark, and no fish was ever more toothsome than when +broiled on a gridiron improvised of green wands or roasted Indian +fashion in a cleft stick. + +What can make amends for the loss of the camp-fire, with innumerable +pictures glowing and shifting in its heart, and conjuring strange shapes +out of the surrounding gloom, and suggesting unseen mysteries that the +circle of darkness holds behind its rim? How are the wells of +conversation to be thawed out by a black stove, so that tales of +hunters' and fishers' craft and adventure shall flow till the measure of +man's belief is overrun? How is the congenial spark of true +companionship to be kindled when people brood around a stove and light +their pipes with matches, and not with coals snatched out of the +camp-fire's edge, or with twigs that burn briefly with baffling flame? + +But it will not be long before it will be impossible to get a taste of +real camping without taking long and expensive journeys, for every +available rod of lake shore and river bank is being taken up and made +populous with so-called camps, and the comfortable freedom and seclusion +of a real camp are made impossible there. One desiring that might better +pitch his tent in the back woodlot of a farm than in any such popular +resort. This misnamed camping out has become a fashion which seems +likely to last till the shores are as thronged as the towns, and the +woods are spoiled for the real campers, whom it is possible to imagine +seeking in the summers of the future a seclusion in the cities that the +forests and streams no longer can give them. + +Yet, let it be understood that make-believe camping is better than no +camping. It cannot but bring people into more intimate relations with +nature than they would be if they stayed at home, and so to better +acquaintance with our common mother, who deals so impartially with all +her children. + + + + +XXIII + +THE CAMP-FIRE + + +If "the open fire furnishes the room," the camp-fire does more for the +camp. It is its life--a life that throbs out in every flare and flicker +to enliven the surroundings, whether they be the trees of the forest, +the expanse of prairie, shadowed only by clouds and night, or the barren +stretch of sandy shore. Out of the encompassing gloom of all these, the +camp-fire materializes figures as real to the eye as flesh and blood. It +peoples the verge of darkness with grotesque forms, that leap and crouch +and sway with the rise and fall and bending of the flame to the wind, +and that beckon the fancy out to grope in the mystery of night. + +Then imagination soars with the updrift of smoke and the climbing galaxy +of fading sparks, to where the steadfast stars shine out of the +unvisited realm that only imagination can explore. + +The camp-fire gives an expression to the human face that it bears in no +other light, a vague intentness, an absorption in nothing tangible; and +yet not a far-away look, for it is focused on the flame that now licks a +fresh morsel of wood, now laps the empty air; or it is fixed on the +shifting glow of embers, whose blushes flush or fade under their ashen +veil. It is not the gaze of one who looks past everything at nothing, or +at the stars or the mountains or the far-away sea-horizon; but it is +centred on and revealed only by the camp-fire. You wonder what the gazer +beholds--the past, the future, or something that is neither; and the +uncertain answer you can only get by your own questioning of the +flickering blaze. + + * * * * * + +As the outers gather around this cheerful centre their lips exhale +stories of adventure by field and flood, as naturally as the burning +fuel does smoke and sparks, and in that engendering warmth, no fish +caught or lost, no buck killed or missed, suffers shrinkage in size or +weight, no peril is lessened, no tale shorn of minutest detail. All +these belong to the camp-fire, whether it is built in conformity to +scientific rules or piled clumsily by unskilled hands. What satisfaction +there is in the partnership of building this altar of the camp, for +though a master of woodcraft superintends, all may take a hand in its +erection; the youngest and the weakest may contribute a stick that will +brighten the blaze. + + * * * * * + +What hospitality the glow of the camp-fire proclaims in inviting always +one more to the elastic circle of light and warmth, that if always +complete, yet expands to receive another guest. A pillar of cloud by +day, of fire by night, it is a beacon that guides the wanderer to +shelter and comfort. + + * * * * * + +The Indian weed has never such perfect flavor as when, contending with +heat and smoke, one lights his pipe with a coal or an elusive flame, +snatched from the embers of the camp-fire, and by no other fireside does +the nicotian vapor so soothe the perturbed senses, bring such lazy +contentment, nor conjure such pleasant fancies out of the border of +dreamland. + + * * * * * + +There is no cooking comparable with that which the camp-fire affords. To +whatever is boiled, stewed, roasted, broiled or baked over its blaze, in +the glow of its embers or in its ashes, it imparts a distinctive woodsy +flavor that it distills out of itself or draws from the spiced air that +fans it; and the aroma of every dish invites an appetite that is never +disappointed if the supply be large enough. + + * * * * * + +It cannot be denied that the camp stove gives forth warmth and, with +more comfort to the cook, serves to cook food of such tame flavor as one +may get at home. But though the serviceable little imp roar till its +black cheeks glow red as winter berries, it cannot make shanty or tent a +camp in reality or impart to an outing its true flavor. This can only be +given by the generous camp-fire, whose flames and embers no narrow walls +inclose, whose hearth is on every side, whose chimney is the wide air. + + + + +XXIV + +A RAINY DAY IN CAMP + + +The plans of the camper, like those of other men, "gang aft agley." The +morrow, which he proposed to devote to some long-desired hunting or +fishing trip, is no more apt to dawn propitiously on him than on the +husbandman, the mariner, or any other mortal who looks to the weather +for special favor. On the contrary, instead of the glowing horizon and +the glory of the sunburst that should usher in the morning, the slow +dawn is quite apt to have the unwelcome accompaniment of rain. + +The hearing, first alert of the drowsy senses, catches the sullen patter +of the drops on tent or shanty, their spiteful, hissing fall on the +smouldering embers of the camp-fire, and with a waft of damp earth and +herbage stealing into his nostrils, the disappointed awakener turns +fretfully under his blanket, then crawls forth to have his lingering +hope smothered in the veil of rain that blurs the landscape almost to +annihilation. + +He mutters anathemas against the weather, then takes the day as it has +come to him, for better or for worse. First, to make the best of it, he +piles high the camp-fire, and dispels with its glow and warmth some +cubic feet of gloom and dampness. Then he sets about breakfast-making, +scurrying forth from shelter to fire, in rapid culinary forays, battling +with the smoke, for glimpses of the contents of kettle and pan. His +repast is as pungent with smoke as the strong waters of Glenlivat, but +if that is valued for its flavor of peat-reek, why should he scorn food +for the like quality? + +Then if he delights in petty warfare with the elements, to bide the +pelting of the rain, to storm the abatis of wet thickets and suffer the +sapping and mining of insidious moisture, he girds up his loins and goes +forth with rod or gun, as his desire of conquest may incline him. + +But if he has come to his outing with the intention of pursuing sport +with bodily comfort, he is at once assured that this is unattainable +under the present conditions of the weather. Shall he beguile the +tediousness of a wet day in camp with books and papers? + +Nay, if they were not left behind in the busy, plodding world that he +came here to escape from, they should have been. He wants nothing here +that reminds him of traffic or politics; nothing of history, for now he +has only to do with the present; nothing of travel, for his concern now +is only with the exploration of this wild domain. He does not wish to be +bothered with fiction, idealized reality is what he desires. Neither +does he care for what other men have written of nature. Her book is +before him and he may read it from first hands. + +Looking forth from his snug shelter on the circumscribed landscape, he +marvels at the brightness of a distant yellow tree that shines like a +living flame through the veil of mist. The blaze of his sputtering +camp-fire is not brighter. He notices, as perhaps he never did before, +how distinctly the dark ramage of the branches is traced among the +brilliant leaves, as if with their autumnal hues they were given +transparency. Some unfelt waft of the upper air casts aside for a moment +the curtain of mist and briefly discloses a mountain peak, radiant with +all the hues of autumn, and it is as if one were given, as in a dream, a +glimpse of the undiscovered country. He realizes a dreamy pleasure in +watching the waves coming in out of the obscurity and dashing on the +shore, or pulsing away in fading leaden lines into the mystery of the +wrack. + +In the borders of the mist the ducks revel in the upper and nether +wetness, and with uncanny laughter the loon rejoices between his long +explorations of the aquatic depth. A mink, as heedless of rain as the +waterfowl, comes stealing along the shore, thridding the intricacies of +driftwood and web of wave-washed tree roots, often peering out in +inquisitive examination of the quiet camp. Less cautious visitors draw +nearer--the friendly chickadee, hanging from the nearest twig; the +nuthatch, sounding his penny trumpet, accompanied by the tap of the +woodpecker, as one creeps down, the other up a tree trunk; the scolding +jays, making as noisy protest over human intrusion as if they had just +discovered it; a saucy squirrel, scoffing and jeering, till tired of his +raillery he settles down to quiet nut-rasping under shelter of his tail. + +There are unseen visitors, too: wood-mice, astir under cover of the +fallen leaves, and, just discernible among the patter of the falling +rain and of the squirrels' filings, footfalls unidentified, till a +ruffed grouse starts new showers from the wet branches in the thunder of +his flight. + +Narrowed to the width of tent or shanty front, the background but a +pallid shroud of mist, the landscape yet holds much for pleasant study. +But if the weather-bound camper exhausts this or tires of it, he may +turn to gun-cleaning or tackle-mending. If a guide be with him, he can +listen to his stories of hunting, fishing, and adventure, or learn +woodcraft of him and the curious ways of birds and beasts. He may +fashion birch-bark camp-ware, dippers, cups, and boxes, or whittle a +paddle from a smooth-rifted maple. If he is of artistic turn, he can +pleasantly devote an hour to etching pictures on the white under surface +of the fungus that grows on decaying trees, and so provide himself with +reminders of this rainy day in camp. + +So, with one and another pastime, he whiles away the sunless day, which, +almost before he has thought of it, merges into the early nightfall, and +he is lulled to sleep by the same sound that wakened him, the drip and +patter of the rain. And when he looks back to these days of outing he +may count this, which dawned so unpropitiously, not the least pleasant +and profitable among them, and mark with a white stone the rainy day in +camp. + + + + +XXV + +AUGUST DAYS + + +With such unmistakable signs made manifest to the eye and ear the summer +signals its fullness and decline, that one awakening now from a sleep +that fell upon him months ago might be assured of the season with the +first touch of awakening. + +To the first aroused sense comes the long-drawn cry of the locust fading +into silence with the dry, husky clap of his wings; the changed voice of +the song birds, no more caroling the jocund tunes of mating and nesting +time, but plaintive with the sadness of farewell. + +The bobolink has lost, with his pied coat, the merry lilt that tinkled +so continually over the buttercups and daisies of the June meadows; +rarely the song sparrow utters the trill that cheered us in the doubtful +days of early spring. The bluebird's abbreviated carol floats down from +the sky as sweet as then, but mournful as the patter of autumn leaves. +The gay goldfinch has but three notes left of his June song, as he tilts +on the latest blossoms and fluffy seeds of the thistles. The meadowlark +charms us no more with his long-drawn melody, but with one sharp, +insistent note he struts in the meadow stubble or skulks among the +tussocks of the pasture and challenges the youthful gunner. What an easy +shot that even, steady flight offers, and yet it goes onward with +unfaltering rapid wing-beats, while the gun thunders and the harmless +shot flies behind him. The flicker cackles now no more as when he was a +jubilant new comer, with the new-come spring for his comrade, but is +silent or only yelps one harsh note as he flashes his golden wings in +loping flight from fence-stake to ant-hill. + +The plover chuckles while he lingers at the bounteous feast of +grasshoppers, but never pierces the August air with the long wail that +proclaimed his springtime arrival. After nightfall, too, is heard his +chuckling call fluttering down from the aerial path, where he wends his +southward way, high and distinct above the shrill monotony of crickets +and August pipers. The listening sportsman may well imagine that the +departing bird is laughing at him as much as signaling his course to +companion wayfarers. + +The woodland thrushes' flutes and bells have ceased to breathe and +chime, only the wood pewee keeps his pensive song of other days, yet +best befitting those of declining summer. + +The trees are dark with ripened leafage; out of the twilight of the +woodside glow the declining disks of wild sunflowers and shine the +rising constellations of asters. The meadow sides are gay with unshorn +fringes of goldenrod and willow-herb, and there in the corners of the +gray fences droop the heavy clusters of elderberries, with whose purple +juice the flocking robins and the young grouse, stealing from the +shadowed copses along this belt of shade, dye their bills. + +The brook trails its attenuated thread out of the woodland gloom to gild +its shallow ripples with sunshine and redden them with the inverted +flames of the cardinals that blaze on the sedgy brink. Here the brown +mink prowls with her lithe cubs, all unworthy yet of the trapper's +skill, but tending toward it with growth accelerated by full feasts of +pool-impounded minnows. Here, too, the raccoon sets the print of his +footsteps on the muddy shores as he stays his stomach with frogs and +sharpens his appetite with the hot sauce of Indian turnip while he +awaits the setting of his feast in the cornfields. The hounds are more +impatient than he for the opening of his midnight revel, and tug at +their chains and whimper and bay when they hear his querulous call +trembling through the twilight. They are even fooled to melodiously +mournful protest when their ears catch the shriller quaver of the +screech owl's note. + +The woodcock skulks in the bordering alders, and when forced to flight +does so with a stronger wing than when a month ago his taking off was +first legally authorized. Another month will make him worthier game; and +then, too, the ruffed grouse need not be spared a shot, as full grown +and strong of pinion he bursts from cover; nor need the wood duck, now +but a vigorous bunch of pin feathers, be let go untried or unscathed, +when from his perch on a slanted log or out of a bower of rushes he +breaks into the upper air with startling flutter of wings and startled +squeak of alarm. + +Summer wanes, flowers fade, bird songs falter to mournful notes of +farewell; but while regretfully we mark the decline of these golden +days, we remember with a thrill of expectation that they slope to the +golden days of autumn, wherein the farmer garners his latest harvest, +the sportsman his first worthy harvest, and that to him that waits, come +all things, and even though he waits long, may come the best. + + + + +XXVI + +A VOYAGE IN THE DARK + + +A few days ago, a friend who is kind and patient enough to encumber +himself with the care of a blind man and a boy took me and my +twelve-year-old a-fishing. It was with a fresh realization of my +deprivation that I passed along the watery way once as familiar as the +dooryard path, but now shrouded for me in a gloom more impenetrable than +the blackness of the darkest night. I could only guess at the bends and +reaches as the south wind blew on one cheek or the other, or on my back, +only knowing where the channel draws near the shore upon which the +Indians encamped in the old days by the flutter of leaves overbearing +the rustle of rushes. By the chuckle of ripples under the bow, I guessed +when we were in mid-channel; by the entangled splash of an oar, when we +approached the reedy border where the water-lilies rode at anchor, and +discharged their subtle freight of perfume as they tossed in our wake. I +knew by his clatter, drawing nearer only with our progress, that a +kingfisher was perched on a channel-side fishing-stake, used in turn by +him and bigger but not more skillful fishers. I heard his headlong +plunge, but whether successful or not the ensuing clatter did not tell +me, for he has but one voice for all expressions. Yet as his rattling +cry was kept up till the rough edge of its harshness was worn away in +receding flight, I fancied he was proclaiming an unusually successful +achievement. For the sake of his reputation, he would never make such a +fuss over a failure, unless he was telling, as we do, of the big fish he +just missed catching. At any rate, I wished him good luck, for who would +begrudge a poor kingfisher such little fish as he must catch! They would +need years of growth to make them worth our catching or bragging over +the loss of, and by that time we may be done with fishing. + +Suddenly there was a roar of multitudinous wings as a host of redwings +upburst from springing and swaying wild rice stalks, all of which I saw +through the blackness illumined for an instant by memory,--the dusky +cloud uprising like the smoke of an explosion, the bent rice springing +up beneath its lifted burden, the dull-witted or greedy laggards +dribbling upward to join the majority. My companions exclaimed in one +voice at the rare sight of a white bird in the flock, and by the same +light of memory I also saw it as I saw one in an autumn forty years ago, +when, with my comrade of those days, I came "daown the crik" +duck-shooting, or trolling as to-day. Again and again we saw this +phenomenal bird like a white star twinkling through a murky cloud. The +fitful gleam was seen day after day, till the north wind blew him and +his cloud away southward. + +The pother of the blackbirds overhead disturbed the meditations of a +bittern, who, with an alarmed croak, jerked his ungainly form aloft in a +flurry of awkward wing-beats, and went sagging across the marshes in +search of safer seclusion. I wished that he might find it, and escape +the ruthless gunners that will presently come to desolate these +marshes. Very different from his uprising was that of a pair of wood +ducks, revealing their unsuspected presence with startling suddenness, +as they sprang from water to air with a splash and whistle of rapid +wings and their squeaking alarm cry, and then flew swiftly away, the +sibilant wing-beats pulsing out in the distance. These, too, I wished +might safely run the gauntlet of all the guns that will be arrayed +against them when the summer truce is broken. If I had not been mustered +out, or if my boy were mustered in, no doubt I should feel differently +toward the inhabitants of these marshes. Compulsory abstinence makes one +exceedingly virtuous, and because I am virtuous there shall be no cakes +and ale for any one. + +The absence of the rail's cackle was noticeable, a clamor that used to +be provoked at this season by every sudden noise. We never got sight of +the "ma'sh chickens" as they skulked among the sedges; and when the +birds were pressed to flight, rarely caught more than a fleeting glimpse +as they topped the rushes for an instant, and dropped again into the +mazes of the marsh. But they were always announcing a numerous if +invisible presence where now not one answered to our voices or the noise +of our oars. + +All this while our trolling gear was in tow: the boy's a "phantom +minnow" bristling with barbs, a veritable porcupine fish; mine a fluted +spoon. The larger fish seemed attracted by the better imitation, or +perhaps age and experience had given them discernment to shun the other +more glaring sham, and the best of them went to the boy's score; but the +unwise majority of smaller fish were evidently anxious to secure +souvenir spoons of Little Otter, and in consequence of that desire I was +"high hook" as to numbers. They were only pickerel at best, though some +of them, bearing their spots on a green ground, are honored with the +name of "maskalonge" by our fishermen. A scratch of the finger-nail +across the scaly gill-cover gives proof enough to convince even a blind +man of the worthlessness of this claim to distinction. + +Once I enjoyed an exaltation of spirit only to suffer humiliation. There +was a tug at the hooks, so heavy that my first thought was of a snag, +and I was on the point of calling out to my friend to stop rowing. Then +there was a slight yielding, and the tremor that tells unmistakably of a +fish. "Now," said I, with my heart but a little way back of my teeth, "I +am fast to something like a fish, but I shall never be able to boat him. +He is too big to lift out with the hooks, and I can't see to get him by +the gills, and so I shall lose him." As he came in slowly, stubbornly +fighting against every shortening inch of line, I almost wished he had +not been hooked at all only to be lost at last. When, after a time, my +fish was hauled near the boat and in sight of my companions, my catch +proved to be no monster, but a pickerel of very ordinary size hooked by +the belly, and so my hopes and fears vanished together. + +I think distances are magnified to the blind, for it seemed twice as far +as it did of old from the East Slang to the South Slang, as we passed +these oddly named tributaries of Little Otter. + +At last I sniffed the fragrance of cedars and heard the wash of waves on +the southward-slanted shore of Garden Island, and these informed me we +were at the lake. In confirmation thereof was the testimony of my +companions, given out of their light to my darkness, of an eagle's royal +progress through his ethereal realm, making inspection of his disputed +earthly possession. I was glad to know that his majesty had escaped the +republican regicides who haunt the summer shores. + +We made a difficult landing on the mainland, on the oozy shore of mixed +sawdust and mud, and followed the old trail to the old camping ground +under the rocks, a place full of pleasant memories for the elder two of +our trio, and offering to the boy the charms of freshness and discovery. +For him the cliff towered skyward but little below the eagle's flight; +its tiny caves were unexplored mysteries, their coral-beaded curtains of +Canada yew and delicate netting of mountain-fringe strange foreign +growths. Through his undimmed eyes I had glimpses of those happy shores +whereon the sun always shines and no cloud arises beyond. What a little +way behind they seem in the voyage that has grown wearisome, and yet we +can never revisit them for a day nor for an hour, and it is like a dream +that we ever dwelt there. + +Bearing with us from this port something not marketable nor even +visible, yet worth carrying home, we reëmbarked, and the wind, blowing +in my face, informed me we were homeward bound. One after another, we +passed five boats of fishing parties tied up at as many stakes, the +crews pursuing their pastime with steadfast patience, as their intent +silence proclaimed. To me they were as ships passed in the night. I had +no other knowledge of them than this, except that my friend told me +there was a fat woman in each boat, and that one of them boasted to us, +with motherly pride, of a big pickerel caught by her little girl. + +A blended hum of bumblebees droned in among us, and my companions +remarked that one of the aerial voyagers had boarded our craft, while I +maintained there were two, which proved to be the fact; whereupon I +argued that my ears were better than their eyes, but failed to convince +them or even myself. I welcomed the bees as old acquaintances, who, in +the duck-shooting of past years, always used to come aboard and bear us +company for awhile, rarely alighting, but tacking from stem to stern on +a cruise of inspection, till at last, satisfied or disappointed, they +went booming out of sight and hearing over marshfuls of blue spikes of +pickerel weed and white trinities of arrowhead. I cannot imagine why +bees should be attracted to the barrenness of a boat, unless by a +curiosity to explore such strange floating islands, though their dry +wood promises neither leaf nor bloom. + +I hear of people every year who forsake leafage and bloom to search the +frozen desolation of the polar north for the Lord knows what, and I +cease to wonder at the bees, when men so waste the summers that are +given them to enjoy if they will but bide in them. + +We passed many new houses of the muskrats, who are building close to the +channel this year in prophecy of continued low water. But muskrats are +not infallible prophets, and sometimes suffer therefor in starvation or +drowning. The labor of the night-workers was suspended in the glare of +the August afternoon, and their houses were as silent as if deserted, +though we doubted not there were happy households inside them, +untroubled by dreams of famine or deluge, or possibly of the +unmercifulness of man, though that seems an abiding terror with our +lesser brethren. Winter before last the marshes were frozen to the +bottom, blockading the muskrats in their houses, where entire families +perished miserably after being starved to cannibalism. Some dug out +through the house roofs, and wandered far across the desolate wintry +fields in search of food. Yet nature, indifferent to all fates, has so +fostered them since that direful season that the marshy shores are +populous again with sedge-thatched houses. + +As we neared our home port we met two trollers, one of whom lifted up +for envious inspection a lusty pickerel. "He's as big as your leg," my +friend replied to my inquiry concerning its dimensions, and in aid of my +further inquisitiveness asked the lucky captor how much the fish would +weigh. "Wal, I guess he ought to weigh abaout seven pounds," was +answered, after careful consideration. We learned afterwards that its +actual weight was nine pounds, and I set that man down as a very honest +angler. + +Presently our boat ran her nose into the familiar mire of well-named Mud +Landing, and we exchanged oars for legs, which we plied with right good +will, for a thunderstorm was beginning to bellow behind us. + + + + +XXVII + +THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE + + +A thin column of smoke seen rising lazily among the leafy trees and +fading to a wavering film in the warm morning air or the hotter breath +of noon, a flickering blaze kindling in the sultry dusk on some quiet +shore, mark the place of the summer camp-fire. + +It is not, like the great hospitable flare and glowing coals of the +autumn and winter camp-fires, the centre to which all are drawn, about +which the life of the camp gathers, where joke and repartee flash to and +fro as naturally and as frequently as its own sparks fly upward, where +stories come forth as continuously as the ever-rising volume of smoke. + +Rather it is avoided and kept aloof from, held to only by the unhappy +wretch upon whom devolves the task of tending the pot and frying-pan, +and he hovers near it fitfully, like a moth about a candle, now backing +away to mop his hot face, now darting into the torrid circle to turn a +fish or snatch away a seething pot or sizzling pan. Now and then the +curious and hungry approach to note with what skill or speed the cookery +is progressing, but they are content to look on at a respectful distance +and to make suggestions and criticisms, but not to interfere with aid. +The epicurean smoker, who holds that the finest flavor of tobacco is +evoked only by coal or blazing splinter, steals down upon the windward +side and snatches a reluctant ember or an elusive flame that flickers +out on the brink of the pipe bowl, but most who burn the weed are +content now to kindle it with the less fervid flame of a match. + +And yet this now uncomfortable necessity is still the heart of the camp, +which without it would be but a halting place for a day, where one +appeases hunger with a cold bite and thirst with draughts of tepid +water, and not a temporary home where man has his own fireside, though +he care not to sit near it, and feasts full on hot viands and refreshes +himself with the steaming cup that cheers but not inebriates. + +Its smoke drifted far through the woods may prove a pungent trail, +scented out among the odors of balsams and the perfume of flowers that +shall lead hither some pleasant stranger or unexpected friend, or its +firefly glow, flashing but feebly through the gloaming, may be a beacon +that shall bring such company. In its praise may also be said that the +summer camp-fire demands no laborious feeding nor careful tending, is +always a servant, seldom a master. + + + + +XXVIII + +THE RACCOON + + +Summer is past its height. The songless bobolink has forsaken the shorn +meadow. Grain fields, save the battalioned maize, have fallen from +gracefulness and beauty of bending heads and ripple of mimic waves to +bristling acres of stubble. From the thriftless borders of ripening +weeds busy flocks of yellowbirds in faded plumage scatter in sudden +flight at one's approach like upblown flurries of dun leaves. Goldenrod +gilds the fence-corners, asters shine in the dewy borders of the woods, +sole survivors of the floral world save the persistent bloom of the wild +carrot and succory--flourishing as if there had never been mower or +reaper--and the white blossoms of the buckwheat crowning the filling +kernels. The fervid days have grown preceptibly shorter, the lengthening +nights have a chilly autumnal flavor, and in the cool dusk the katydids +call and answer one to another out of their leafy tents, and the +delicate green crickets that Yankee folks call August pipers play their +monotonous tune. Above the katydid's strident cry and the piper's +incessant notes, a wild tremulous whinny shivers through the gloom at +intervals, now from a distant field or wood, now from the near orchard. +One listener will tell you that it is only a little screech owl's voice, +another that it is the raccoon's rallying cry to a raid on the +cornfield. There is endless disputation concerning it and apparently no +certainty, but the raccoon is wilder than the owl, and it is pleasanter +to believe that it is his voice that you hear. + +The corn is in the milk; the feast is ready. The father and mother and +well grown children, born and reared in the cavern of a ledge or hollow +tree of a swamp, are hungry for sweets remembered or yet untasted, and +they are gathering to it, stealing out of the thick darkness of the +woods and along the brookside in single file, never stopping to dig a +fiery wake-robin bulb nor to catch a frog nor harry a late brood of +ground-nesting birds, but only to call some laggard, or distant +clansfolk. So one fancies, when the quavering cry is repeated and when +it ceases, that all the free-booters have gained the cornfield and are +silent with busy looting. Next day's examination of the field may +confirm the fancy with the sight of torn and trampled stalks and munched +ears. These are the nights when the coon hunter is abroad and the +robbers' revel is likely to be broken up in a wild panic. + +Hunted only at night, to follow the coon the boldest rider must +dismount, yet he who risks neck and limbs, or melts or freezes for +sport's sake, and deems no sport manly that has not a spice of danger or +discomfort in it, must not despise this humble pastime for such reason. + +On leaving the highway that leads nearest to the hunting ground, the way +of the coon hunters takes them, in darkness or feeble lantern light, +over rough and uncertain footing, till the cornfield's edge is reached +and the dogs cast off. Away go the hounds, their course only indicated +by the rustling of the corn leaves, as they range through the field, +until one old truth-teller gives tongue on the track of a coon who +perhaps has brought his whole family out on a nocturnal picnic. The +hounds sweep straight away, in full cry, on the hot scent to hill or +swamp, where their steadfast baying proclaims that the game is treed. + +Then follows a pell-mell scramble toward the musical uproar. Stones, +cradle knolls, logs, stumps, mud holes, brambles and all the inanimate +enemies that lie in wait for man when he hastens in the dark, combine to +trip, bump, bruise, sprain, scratch, and bemire the hurrying hunters. + +Then when all have gathered at the centre of attraction, where the +excited hounds are raving about the boll of some great tree, the best +and boldest climber volunteers to go aloft into the upper darkness and +shake the quarry down or shoot him if may be. If he succeeds in +accomplishing the difficult task, what a męlée ensues when the coon +crashes through the branches to the ground and becomes the erratic +centre of the wild huddle of dogs and men. + +Fewer voices never broke the stillness of night with sounds more +unearthly than the medley of raging, yelping, growling, cheering, and +vociferous orders given forth by dogs, coon, and hunters, while hillside +and woodland toss to and fro a more discordant badinage of echo. The +coon is not a great beast, but a tough and sharp-toothed one, who +carries beneath his gray coat and fat ribs a stout heart and wonderful +vitality; and a tussle with a veteran of the tribe of cornfield robbers +tests the pluck of the dogs. + +If the coon takes refuge in a tree too tall and limbless for his +pursuers to climb, there is nothing for them but to keep watch and ward +till daylight discovers him crouched on his lofty perch. A huge fire +enlivens the long hours of guard keeping. A foraging party repairs to +the nearest cornfield for roasting ears, and the hunters shorten the +slow nighttide with munching scorched corn, sauced by joke and song and +tales of the coon hunts of bygone years. + +The waning moon throbs into view above a serrated hill-crest, then +climbs the sky, while the shadows draw eastward, then pales in the dawn, +and when it is like a blotch of white cloud in the zenith, a sunrise gun +welcomes day and brings the coon tumbling to earth. Or perhaps not a +coon, but some vagrant house cat is the poor reward of the long watch. +Then the weary hunters plod homeward to breakfast and to nail their +trophies to the barn door. + +When the sweet acorns, dropping in the frosty night, tempt the coon to a +later feast, there is as good sport and primer peltry. In any of the +nights wherein this sport may be pursued, the man of lazy mould and +contemplative mind loves best the hunt deemed unsuccessful by the more +ardent hunters, when the hounds strike the trail of a wandering fox and +carry a tide of wild music, flooding and ebbing over valley and hilltop, +while the indolent hunter reclines at ease, smoking his pipe and +listening, content to let more ambitious hunters stumble over ledges and +wallow through swamps. + +When winter begins, the coon retires for a long and comfortable sleep, +warmly clothed in fur and fat. A great midwinter thaw awakens him, +fooled out of a part of his nap by the siren song of the south wind, and +he wanders forth in quest of something. If food, he never finds it, and +as far as I have been able to determine, does not even seek it. I should +imagine, reading the record of his journey as he prints it in his course +from hollow tree or hollow ledge to other hollow trees and hollow +ledges, that he had been awakened to a sense of loneliness and was +seeking old friends in familiar haunts, with whom to talk over last +year's cornfield raids and frogging parties in past summer +nights--perchance to plan future campaigns. Or is it an inward fire and +no outward warmth that has thawed him into this sudden activity? Has he, +like many of his biggers and betters, gone a-wooing in winter nights? + +At such times the thrifty hunter who has an eye more to profit and prime +peltry than to sport, goes forth armed only with an axe. Taking the +track of the wanderers, he follows it to their last tarrying place. If +it be a cave, they are safe except from the trap when they come forth to +begin another journey; but if it is a hollow tree, woe betide the poor +wretches. The hunter saps the foundation of their castle, and when it +crashes to its fall he ignominiously knocks the dazed inmates on the +head. It is fashionable for others to wear the coat which becomes the +raccoon much better than them and which once robbed of he can never +replace. + +During the spring and early summer little is seen of the raccoon. His +tracks may be found on a sandy shore or margin of a brook and +occasionally his call can be heard, if indeed it be his, but beyond +these he gives little evidence of his existence. There must be nocturnal +excursions for food, but for the most part old and young abide in their +rocky fortress or wooden tower. They are reported to be a playful +family, and the report is confirmed by the pranks of domesticated +members of it. Sometimes there will be found in one of their ravaged +homes a rounded gnarl worn smooth with much handling or pawing, the +sole furniture of the house and evidently a plaything. + +This little brother of the bear is one of the few remaining links that +connect us with the old times, when there were trees older than living +men, when all the world had not entered for the race to gain the prize +of wealth, or place, or renown; when it was the sum of all happiness for +some of us to "go a-coonin'." It is pleasant to see the track of this +midnight prowler, this despoiler of cornfields, imprinted in the mud of +the lane or along the soft margin of the brook, to know that he +survives, though he may not be the fittest. When he has gone forever, +those who outlive him will know whether it was his quavering note that +jarred the still air of the early fall evenings or if it was only the +voice of the owl--if he too shall not then have gone the inevitable way +of all the wild world. + + + + +XXIX + +THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE + + +The depressing opposite of the fire that is the warm heart of the camp +is the pile of green or rain-soaked fuel that in spite of all coaxing +and nursing refuses to yield a cheerful flame. Shavings from the +resin-embalmed heart of a dead pine and scrolls of birch bark fail to +enkindle it to more than flicker and smoke, while the wet and hungry +campers brood forlornly over the cheerless centre of their temporary +home, with watery eyes and souls growing sick of camp life. + +Night is falling, and the shadows of the woods thicken into solid gloom +that teems with mysterious horrors, which stretch their intangible claws +through the darkness to chill the backs of the timid with an icy touch, +and the silence is terrible with unuttered howlings of imaginary beasts. + +Each one is ready to blame the other for the common discomfort, and all, +the high priest, who so far fails to kindle the altar fire. He is an +impostor, who should be smothered in the reek of his own failure. Yet, +as the group regard him with unkind glances and mutterings of +disapproval, he perseveres, feeding the faint flame with choice morsels +of fat wood and nursing it with his breath, his bent face and puffed +cheeks now a little lightened, now fading into gloom, till suddenly the +sullenness of the reluctant fuel is overcome, wings of flame flutter up +the column of smoke, and the black pile leaps into a lurid tower of +light, from whose peak a white banner of smoke flaunts upward, saluted +by the waving boughs that it streams among. + +Tent and shanty, familiar trees, and moving figures with their circle of +grotesque, dancing shadows, spring into sudden existence out of the +blank darkness. The magic touch of the firelight dispels every sullen +look, warms every heart to genial comradeship; jokes flash back and +forth merrily, and the camp pulses again with reawakened cheerful life. +Verily, fire worketh wonders in divers ways. + + + + +XXX + +SEPTEMBER DAYS + + +September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in +their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn. The cricket +chirps in the noontide, making the most of what remains of his brief +life; the bumblebee is busy among the clover blossoms of the aftermath; +and their shrill cry and dreamy hum hold the outdoor world above the +voices of the song birds, now silent or departed. + +What a little while ago they were our familiars, noted all about us in +their accustomed haunts--sparrow, robin, and oriole, each trying now and +then, as if to keep it in memory, a strain of his springtime love song, +and the cuckoo fluting a farewell prophecy of rain. The bobolinks, in +sober sameness of traveling gear, still held the meadowside thickets of +weeds; and the swallows sat in sedate conclave on the barn ridge. +Then, looking and listening for them, we suddenly become aware they are +gone; the adobe city of the eave-dwellers is silent and deserted; the +whilom choristers of the sunny summer meadows are departed to a less +hospitable welcome in more genial climes. How unobtrusive was their +exodus. We awake and miss them, or we think of them and see them not, +and then we realize that with them summer too has gone. + +This also the wafted thistledown and the blooming asters tell us, and, +though the woods are dark with their latest greenness, in the lowlands +the gaudy standard of autumn is already displayed. In its shadow the +muskrat is thatching his winter home, and on his new-shorn watery lawn +the full-fledged wild duck broods disport in fullness of feather and +strength of pinion. Evil days are these of September that now befall +them. Alack, for the callow days of peaceful summer, when no honest +gunner was abroad, and the law held the murderous gun in abeyance, and +only the keel of the unarmed angler rippled the still channel. +Continual unrest and abiding fear are their lot now and henceforth, till +spring brings the truce of close time to their persecuted race. + +More silently than the fisher's craft the skiff of the sportsman now +invades the rush-paled thoroughfares. Noiseless as ghosts, paddler and +shooter glide along the even path till, alarmed by some keener sense +than is given us, up rise wood duck, dusky duck, and teal from their +reedy cover. Then the ready gun belches its thunder, and suddenly +consternation pervades the marshes. All the world has burst forth in a +burning of powder. From end to end, from border to border, the fenny +expanse roars with discharge and echo, and nowhere within it is there +peace or rest for the sole of a webbed foot. Even the poor bittern and +heron, harmless and worthless, flap to and fro from one to another now +unsafe retreat, in constant danger of death from every booby gunner who +can cover their slow flight. + +The upland woods, too, are awakened from the slumber of their late +summer days. How silent they had grown when their songsters had +departed, rarely stirred but by the woodpecker's busy hammer, the +chatter and bark of squirrels, and the crows making vociferous +proclamation against some winged or furred enemy. The grouse have waxed +fat among the border patches of berry bushes, rarely disturbed in the +seclusion of the thickets but by the soft footfall of the fox, the +fleeting shadow of a cruising hawk, and the halloo of the cowboy driving +home his herd from the hillside pasture. Now come enemies more +relentless than beast or bird of prey, a sound more alarming than the +cowboy's distant call--man and his companion the dog, and the terrible +thunder of the gun. A new terror is revealed to the young birds, a +half-forgotten one brought afresh to the old. The crows have found fresh +cause for clamor, and the squirrels lapse into a silence of fear. + +Peace and the quietness of peace have departed from the realm of the +woods, and henceforth while the green leaves grow bright as blossoms +with the touch of frost, then brown and sere, and till long after they +lie under the white shroud of winter, its wild denizens shall abide in +constant fear and unrest. + +So fares it with the wood-folk, these days of September, wherein the +sportsman rejoiceth with exceeding gladness. + + + + +XXXI + +A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED + + +Why kill, for the mere sake of killing or the exhibition of one's skill, +any wild thing that when alive harms no one and when killed is of no +worth? The more happy wild life there is in the world, the pleasanter it +is for all of us. + +When one is duck-shooting on inland waters, sitting alert in the bow of +the skiff with his gun ready for the expected gaudy wood duck, or plump +mallard, or loud quacking dusky duck, or swift-winged teal, to rise with +a splashing flutter out of the wild rice, and there is a sudden beating +of broad wings among the sedges with a startled guttural quack, and +one's heart leaps to his throat and his gun to his shoulder, and +then--only an awkward bittern climbs the September breeze with a slow +incline, there is a vengeful temptation to let drive at the +disappointing good-for-nothing. But why not let the poor fellow go? If +you dropped him back into the marsh to rot unprofitably there, disdained +even by the mink, unattainable to the scavenger skunk, what good would +it do you? If he disappointed you, you disturbed him in his meditations, +or in the pursuit of a poor but honest living. Perhaps a great heron too +intent on his fishing or frogging, or dozing in the fancied seclusion of +his reedy bower, springs up within short range and goes lagging away on +his broad vans. He may be taken home to show, for he is worth showing +even when killed. But if you wish your friends to see him at his best, +bring them to him and let them see how well he befits these sedgy +levels--a goodly sight, whether he makes his lazy flight above them or +stands a motionless sentinel in the oozy shallows. The marshes would be +desolate without him, or if one desires the charm of loneliness, his +silent presence adds to it. + +A kingfisher comes clattering along the channel. As he jerks his swift +way over the sluggish water he may test your marksmanship, but as he +hangs with rapid wing-beats over a school of minnows, as steadfast for +a minute as a star forever, needing no skill to launch him to his final +unrewarded plunge, do not kill him! In such waters he takes no fish that +you would, and he enlivens the scene more than almost any other +frequenter of it, never skulking and hiding, but with metallic, +vociferous clatter heralding his coming. One never tires of watching his +still mid-air poise, the same in calm or wind, and his unerring headlong +plunge. + +When one wanders along a willowy stream with his gun, cautiously +approaching every lily-padded pool and shadowed bend likely to harbor +wood duck or teal, and finds neither, and his ears begin to ache for the +sound of his gun--if a green heron flaps off a branch before him he is +sorely tempted to shoot the ungainly bird, but if the gun must be heard, +let it speak to a stump or a tossed chip, either as difficult a target +as he, and let the poor harmless little heron live. Uncouth as he is, he +comes in well in the picture of such a watercourse, which has done with +the worry of turning mills, left far behind with their noise and bustle +on foaming rapids among the hills, and crawls now in lazy ease through +wide intervales, under elms and water maples and thickets of willows. + +On the uplands, where the meadow lark starts out of the grass with a +sharp, defiant "zeet!" and speeds away on his steady game-like flight, +remember before you stop it, or try to, of how little account he is when +brought to bag; and how when the weary days of winter had passed, his +cheery voice welcomed the coming spring, a little later than the +robin's, a little earlier than the flicker's cackle; and what an +enlivening dot of color his yellow breast made where he strutted in the +dun, bare meadows. + +In some States the woodpeckers are unprotected and are a mark for every +gunner. Their galloping flight tempts the ambitious young shooter to try +his skill, but they are among the best friends of the arboriculturist +and the fruit-grower, for though some of them steal cherries and peck +early apples, and one species sucks the sap of trees, they are the only +birds that search out and kill the insidious, destructive borer. + +In some States, too, the hare is unprotected by any law, and it is +common custom to hunt it, even so late as April, for the mere sake of +killing, apparently; or perhaps the charm of the hound's music, which +makes the butchery of Adirondack deer so delightful a sport to some, +adds a zest to the slaughter of these innocents--though, be it said, +there is no comparison in the marksmanship required. Alive, the northern +hare is one of the most harmless of animals; dead, he is, in the opinion +of most people, one of the most worthless; so worthless that hunters +frequently leave the result of all their day's "sport" in the woods +where they were killed. Yet the hare is legitimate game, and should be +hunted as such, and only in proper seasons, and not be ruthlessly +exterminated. A woodland stroll is the pleasanter if one sees a hare +there in his brown summer suit, or white as the snow about him in his +winter furs. + +Where there are no statute laws for the protection of game and harmless +creatures not so classed, an unwritten law of common sense, common +decency, and common humanity should be powerful enough to protect all +these. The fox is an outlaw; it is every one's legal right to kill him +whenever and however he may, and yet wherever the fox is hunted with any +semblance of fair play, whether in New England with gun and hound, or +elsewhere with horse and hound, the man who traps a fox, or kills one +unseasonably, or destroys a vixen and her cubs, bears an evil +reputation. A sentiment as popular and as potent ought to prevail to +protect those that, though harmless, are as unshielded by legislative +enactments as the fox, and much less guarded by natural laws and inborn +cunning. + + + + +XXXII + +THE SKUNK + + +Always and everywhere in evil repute and bad odor, hunted, trapped, and +killed, a pest and a fur-bearer, it is a wonder that the skunk is not +exterminated, and that he is not even uncommon. + +With an eye to the main chance, the fur-trapper spares him when fur is +not prime, but when the letter "R" has become well established in the +months the cruel trap gapes for him at his outgoing and incoming, at the +door of every discovered burrow, while all the year round the farmer, +sportsman, and poultry-grower wage truceless war against him. + +Notwithstanding this general outlawry, when you go forth of a winter +morning, after a night of thaw or tempered chill, you see his authentic +signature on the snow, the unmistakable diagonal row of four footprints +each, or short-spaced alternate tracks, where he has sallied out for a +change from the subterranean darkness of his burrow, or from his as +rayless borrowed quarters beneath the barn, to the starlight or pale +gloom of midnight winter landscape. + +More often are you made aware of his continued survival by another sense +than sight, when his far-reaching odor comes down the vernal breeze or +waft of summer air, rankly overbearing all the fragrance of springing +verdure, or perfume of flowers and new-mown hay, and you well know who +has somewhere and somehow been forced to take most offensively the +defensive. + +It may be said of him that his actions speak louder than his words. Yet +the voiceless creature sometimes makes known his presence by sound, and +frightens the belated farm boy, whom he curiously follows with a +mysterious, hollow beating of his feet upon the ground. + +Patches of neatly inverted turf in a grub-infested pasture tell those +who know his ways that the skunk has been doing the farmer good service +here, and making amends for poultry stealing, and you are inclined to +regard him with more favor. But when you come upon the empty shells of a +raided partridge nest, your sportsman's wrath is enkindled against him +for forestalling your gun. Yet who shall say that you had a better right +to the partridges than he to the eggs? + +If you are so favored, you can but admire the pretty sight of the mother +with her cubs basking in a sunny nook or leading them afield in single +file, a black and white procession. + +If by another name the rose would smell as sweet, our old acquaintance +is in far better odor for change of appellation from that so suggestive +of his rank offenses. What beauty of fair faces would be spoiled with +scorn by a hint of the vulgar name which in unadorned truth belongs to +the handsome glossy black muff and boa that keep warm those dainty +fingers and swan-like neck. Yet through the furrier's art and cunning +they undergo a magic transformation into something to be worn with +pride, and the every-day wear of the despised outlaw becomes the prized +apparel of the fair lady. + +If unto this humble night wanderer is vouchsafed a life beyond his brief +earthly existence, imagine him in that unhunted, trapless paradise of +uncounted eggs and callow nestlings, grinning a wide derisive smile as +he beholds what fools we mortals be, so fooled by ourselves and one +another. + + + + +XXXIII + +A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD + + +Some wooden tent-pins inclosing a few square yards of ground half +covered with a bed of evergreen twigs, matted but still fresh and +odorous, a litter of paper and powder-smirched rags, empty cans and +boxes, a few sticks of fire wood, a blackened, primitive wooden crane, +with its half-charred supporting crotches, and a smouldering heap of +ashes and dying brands, mark the place of a camp recently deserted. + +Coming upon it by chance, one could not help a feeling of loneliness, +something akin to that inspired by the cold hearthstone of an empty +house, or the crumbling foundations of a dwelling long since fallen to +ruin. What days and nights of healthful life have been spent here. What +happy hours, never to return, have been passed here. What jokes have +flashed about, what merry tales have been told, what joyous peals of +laughter rung, where now all is silence. But no one is there to see it. +A crow peers down from a treetop to discover what pickings he may glean, +and a mink steals up from the landing, which bears the keelmarks of +lately departed boats, both distrustful of the old silence which the +place has so suddenly resumed; and a company of jays flit silently +about, wondering that there are no intruders to assail with their +inexhaustible vocabulary. + +A puff of wind rustles among the treetops, disturbing the balance of the +crow, then plunges downward and sets aflight a scurry of dry leaves, and +out of the gray ashes uncoils a thread of smoke and spins it off into +the haze of leaves and shadows. The crow flaps in sudden alarm, the mink +takes shelter in his coign of vantage among the driftwood, and the jays +raise a multitudinous clamor of discordant outcry. The dry leaves alight +as if by mischievous guidance of evil purpose upon the dormant embers, +another puff of wind arouses a flame that first tastes them, then licks +them with an eager tongue, then with the next eddying breath scatters +its crumbs of sparks into the verge of the forest. These the rising +breeze fans till it loads itself with a light burden of smoke, shifted +now here, now there, as it is trailed along the forest floor, now +climbing among the branches, then soaring skyward. + +Little flames creep along the bodies of fallen trees and fluffy windrows +of dry leaves, toying like panther kittens with their assured prey, and +then, grown hungry with such dainty tasting, the flames upburst in a mad +fury of devouring. They climb swifter than panthers to treetops, falling +back they gnaw savagely at tree roots, till the ancient lords of the +forest reel and topple and fall before the gathering wind, and bear +their destroyer still onward. + +The leeward woods are thick with a blinding, stifling smoke, through +which all the wild creatures of the forest flee in terror, whither they +know not--by chance to safety, by equal chance perhaps to a terrible +death in the surging deluge of fire. The billows of flame heave and +dash with a constant insatiate roar, tossing ever onward a red foam of +sparks and casting a jetsam of lurid brands upon the ever-retreating +strand that is but touched with the wash of enkindling, when it is +overrun by the sea of fire. + +The ice-cold springs grow hot in its fierce overwhelming wave, the +purling rills hiss and boil and shrink before it, then vanish from their +seared beds. All the living greenness of the forest is utterly +consumed--great trees that have stood like towers, defying the +centuries, with the ephemeral verdure of the woodland undergrowth; and +to mark the place of all this recent majesty and beauty, there is but +smouldering ruin and black and ashen waste. Little farms but lately +uncovered to the sun out of the wilderness, cosy homesteads but newly +builded, are swept away, and with them cherished hopes and perhaps +precious lives. What irreparable devastation has been wrought by the +camp-fire run wild! + +Meanwhile the careless begetters of this havoc are making their +leisurely way toward the outer world of civilization, serenely noting +that the woods are on fire, and complacently congratulating themselves +that the disaster did not come to spoil their outing; never once +thinking that by a slight exercise of that care which all men owe the +world, this calamity, which a century cannot repair, might have been +avoided. + + + + +XXXIV + +THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE + + +A heap of ashes, a few half-burned brands, a blackened pair of crotched +sticks that mark the place of the once glowing heart of the camp, +furnish food for the imagination to feed upon or give the memory an +elusive taste of departed pleasures. + +If you were one of those who saw its living flame and felt its warmth, +the pleasant hours passed here come back with that touch of sadness +which accompanies the memory of all departed pleasures and yet makes it +not unwelcome. What was unpleasant, even what was almost unendurable, +has nearly faded out of remembrance or is recalled with a laugh. + +It was ten years ago, and the winds and fallen leaves of as many autumns +have scattered and covered the gray heap. If it was only last year, you +fancy that the smell of fire still lingers in the brands. How vividly +return to you the anxious deliberation with which the site was chosen +with a view to all attainable comfort and convenience, and the final +satisfaction that followed the establishment of this short-lived home, +short-lived but yet so much a home during its existence. Nothing +contributed so much to make it one as the camp-fire. How intently you +watched its first building and lighting, how labored for its maintenance +with awkwardly-wielded axe, how you inhaled the odors of its cookery and +essayed long-planned culinary experiments with extemporized implements, +over its beds of coals, and how you felt the consequent exaltation of +triumph or mortification of failure. + +All these come back to you, and the relighting of the fire in the sleepy +dawn, the strange mingling of white sunlight and yellow firelight when +the sun shot its first level rays athwart the camp, the bustle of +departure for the day's sport, the pleasant loneliness of camp-keeping +with only the silent woods, the crackling fire, and your thoughts for +company; the incoming at nightfall and the rekindling of the fire, when +the rosy bud of sleeping embers suddenly expanded into a great blossom +of light whose petals quivered and faded and brightened among the +encircling shadows of the woods. You laugh again at the jokes that ran +around that merry circle and wonder again and again at the ingenuity +with which small performances were magnified into great exploits, little +haps into strange adventure, and with which bad shots and poor catches +were excused. + +At last came breaking camp, the desolation of dismantling and +leave-taking. How many of you will ever meet again? How many of those +merry voices are stilled forever, from how many of those happy faces has +the light of life faded? + +Who lighted this camp-fire? Years have passed since it illumined the +nightly gloom of the woods, for moss and lichens are creeping over the +charred back-log. A green film is spread over the ashes, and thrifty +sprouts are springing up through them. + +You know that the campers were tent-dwellers, for there stand the rows +of rotten tent pins inclosing a rusty heap of mould that once was a +fragrant couch of evergreens inviting tired men to rest,--or you know +they spent their nights in a shanty, for there are the crumbling walls, +the fallen-in roof of bark which never again will echo song or jest. + +This pile of fish-bones attests that they were anglers, and skillful or +lucky ones, for the pile is large. If you are an ichthyologist, you can +learn by these vestiges of their sport whether they satisfied the desire +of soul and stomach with the baser or the nobler fishes; perhaps a +rotting pole, breaking with its own weight, may decide whether they +fished with worm or fly; but whether you relegate them to the class of +scientific or unscientific anglers, you doubt not they enjoyed their +sport as much in one way as in the other. + +You know that they were riflemen, for there is the record of their shots +in the healing bullet wounds on the trunk of a great beech. For a moment +you may fancy that the woods still echo the laughter that greeted the +shot that just raked the side of the tree; but it is only the cackle of +a yellow-hammer. + +There is nothing to tell you who they were, whence they came, or whither +they went; but they were campers, lovers of the great outdoor world, and +so akin to you, and you bid them hail and farewell without a meeting. + + + + +XXXV + +OCTOBER DAYS + + +Fields as green as when the summer birds caroled above them, woods more +gorgeous with innumerable hues and tints of ripening leaves than a +blooming parterre, are spread beneath the azure sky, whose deepest color +is reflected with intenser blue in lake and stream. In them against this +color are set the scarlet and gold of every tree upon their brinks, the +painted hills, the clear-cut mountain peaks, all downward pointing to +the depths of this nether sky. + +Overhead, thistledown and the silken balloon of the milkweed float on +their zephyr-wafted course, silver motes against the blue; and above +them are the black cohorts of crows in their straggling retreat to +softer climes. Now the dark column moves steadily onward, now veers in +confusion from some suspected or discovered danger, or pauses to assail +with a harsh clangor some sworn enemy of the sable brotherhood. Their +gay-clad smaller cousins, the jays, are for the most part silently +industrious among the gold and bronze of the beeches, flitting to and +fro with flashes of blue as they gather mast, but now and then finding +time to scold an intruder with an endless variety of discordant outcry. + +How sharp the dark shadows are cut against the sunlit fields, and in +their gloom how brightly shine the first fallen leaves and the starry +bloom of the asters. In cloudy days and even when rain is falling the +depths of the woods are not dark, for the bright foliage seems to give +forth light and casts no shadows beneath the lowering sky. + +The scarlet maples burn, the golden leaves of poplar and birch shine +through the misty veil, and the deep purple of the ash glows as if it +held a smouldering fire that the first breeze might fan into a flame, +and through all this luminous leafage one may trace branch and twig as a +wick in a candle flame. Only the evergreens are dark as when they bear +their steadfast green in the desolation of winter, and only they brood +shadows. + +In such weather the woodland air is laden with the light burden of odor, +the faintly pungent aroma of the ripened leaves, more subtle than the +scent of pine or fir, yet as apparent to the nostrils, as delightful and +more rare, for in the round of the year its days are few, while in +summer sunshine and winter wind, in springtime shower and autumnal +frost, pine, spruce, balsam, hemlock, and cedar distill their perfume +and lavish it on the breeze or gale of every season. + +Out of the marshes, now changing their universal green to brown and +bronze and gold, floats a finer odor than their common reek of ooze and +sodden weeds--a spicy tang of frost-ripened flags and the fainter breath +of the landward border of ferns; and with these also is mingled the +subtle pungency of the woodlands, where the pepperidge is burning out in +a blaze of scarlet, and the yellow flame of the poplars flickers in the +lightest breeze. + +The air is of a temper neither too hot nor too cold, and in what is now +rather the good gay wood than green wood, there are no longer pestering +insects to worry the flesh and trouble the spirit. The flies bask in +half torpid indolence, the tormenting whine of the mosquito is heard no +more. Of insect life one hears little but the mellow drone of the +bumblebee, the noontide chirp of the cricket, and the husky rustle of +the dragonfly's gauzy wing. + +Unwise are the tent-dwellers who have folded their canvas and departed +to the shelter of more stable roof-trees, for these are days that should +be made the most of, days that have brought the perfected ripeness of +the year and display it in the fullness of its glory. + + + + +XXXVI + +A COMMON EXPERIENCE + + +The keenest of the sportsman's disappointments is not a blank day, nor a +series of misses, unaccountable or too well accountable to a blundering +hand or unsteady nerves, nor adverse weather, nor gun or tackle broken +in the midst of sport, nor perversity of dogs, nor uncongeniality of +comradeship, nor yet even the sudden cold or the spell of rheumatism +that prevents his taking the field on the allotted morning. + +All these may be but for a day. To-morrow may bring game again to haunts +now untenanted, restore cunning to the awkward hand, steady the nerves, +mend the broken implement, make the dogs obedient and bring pleasanter +comrades or the comfortable lonesomeness of one's own companionship, and +to-morrow or next day or next week the cold and rheumatic twinges may +have passed into the realm of bygone ills. + +For a year, perhaps for many years, he has yearned for a sight of some +beloved haunt, endeared to him by old and cherished associations. He +fancies that once more among the scenes of his youthful exploits there +will return to him something of the boyish ardor, exuberance of spirit +and perfect freedom from care that made the enjoyment of those happy +hours so complete. He imagines that a draught from the old spring that +bubbles up in the shadow of the beeches or from the moss-brimmed basin +of the trout brook will rejuvenate him, at least for the moment while +its coolness lingers on his palate, as if he quaffed Ponce de Leon's +undiscovered fountain. He doubts not that in the breath of the old woods +he shall once more catch that faint, indescribable, but unforgotten +aroma, that subtle savor of wildness, that has so long eluded him, +sometimes tantalizing his nostrils with a touch, but never quite inhaled +since its pungent elixir made the young blood tingle in his veins. + +He has almost come to his own again, his long-lost possession in the +sunny realm of youth. It lies just beyond the hill before him, from +whose crest he shall see the nut-tree where he shot his first squirrel, +the southing slope where the beeches hide the spring, where he +astonished himself with the glory of killing his first grouse, and he +shall see the glint of the brook flashing down the evergreen dell and +creeping among the alder copses. + +He does not expect to find so many squirrels or grouse or trout now as +thirty years ago, when a double gun was a wonder, and its possession the +unrealized dream of himself and his comrades, and none of them had ever +seen jointed rod or artificial fly, and dynamite was uninvented. Yet all +the game and fish cannot have been driven from nor exterminated in +haunts so congenial and fostering as these, by the modern horde of +gunners and anglers and by the latter-day devices of destruction, and he +doubts not that he shall find enough to satisfy the tempered ardor of +the graybeard. + +Indeed, it is for something better than mere shooting or fishing that he +has come so far. One squirrel, flicking the leaves with his downfall, +one grouse plunging to earth midway in his thunderous flight, one trout +caught as he can catch him, now, will appease his moderate craving for +sport, and best and most desired of all, make him, for the nonce, a boy +again. He anticipates with quicker heartbeat the thrill of surprised +delight that choked him with its fullness when he achieved his first +triumph. + +At last the hilltop is gained, but what unfamiliar scene is this which +has taken the place of that so cherished in his memory and so longed +for? Can that naked hillside slanting toward him from the further rim of +the valley, forlorn in the desolation of recent clearing, be the wooded +slope of the other day? Can the poor, unpicturesque thread of water that +crawls in feeble attenuation between its shorn, unsightly banks be the +wild, free brook whose voice was a continual song, every rod of whose +amber and silver course was a picture? Even its fringes of willow and +alders, useful for their shade and cover when alive, but cut down +worthless even for fuel, have been swept from its margin by the ruthless +besom of destruction, as if everything that could beautify the landscape +must be blotted out to fulfill the mission of the spoiler. + +Near it, and sucking in frequent draughts from the faint stream, is a +thirsty and hungry little sawmill, the most obtrusive and most ignoble +feature of the landscape, whose beauty its remorseless fangs have gnawed +away. Every foot of the brook below it is foul with its castings, and +the fragments of its continual greedy feasting are thickly strewn far +and near. Yet it calls to the impoverished hills for more victims; its +shriek arouses discordant echoes where once resounded the music of the +brook, the song of birds, the grouse's drum call, and the mellow note of +the hound. + +Though sick at heart with the doleful scene, the returned exile descends +to his harried domain hoping that he may yet find some vestige of its +former wealth, but only more disappointments reward his quest. Not a +trout flashes through the shrunken pools. The once limpid spring is a +quagmire among rotting stumps. The rough nakedness of the hillside is +clad only with thistles and fireweed, with here and there a patch of +blanched dead leaves, dross of the old gold of the beech's ancient +autumnal glory. + +Of all he hoped for nothing is realized, and he finds only woful change, +irreparable loss. His heart heavy with sorrow and bursting with impotent +wrath against the ruthless spoiler, he turns his back forever on the +desolated scene of his boyhood's sports. + +Alas! That one should ever attempt to retouch the time-faded but +beautiful pictures that the memory holds. + + + + +XXXVII + +THE RED SQUIRREL + + +A hawk, flashing the old gold of his pinions in the face of the sun, +flings down a shrill, husky cry of intense scorn; a jay scolds like a +shrew; from his safe isolation in the midwater, a loon taunts you and +the awakening winds with his wild laughter; there is a jeer in the +chuckling diminuendo of the woodchuck's whistle, a taunt in the fox's +gasping bark as he scurries unseen behind the veil of night; and a scoff +on hunters and hounds and cornfield owners is flung out through the +gloaming in the raccoon's quavering cry. But of all the wild world's +inhabitants, feathered or furred, none outdo the saucy red squirrel in +taunts, gibes, and mockery of their common enemy. + +He is inspired with derision that is expressed in every tone and +gesture. His agile form is vibrant with it when he flattens himself +against a tree-trunk, toes and tail quivering with intensity of ridicule +as fully expressed in every motion as in his nasal snicker and throaty +chuckle or in the chattering jeer that he pours down when he has +attained a midway or topmost bough and cocks his tail with a saucy curve +above his arched back. + +When he persistently retires within his wooden tower, he still peers out +saucily from his lofty portal, and if he disappears you may yet hear the +smothered chuckle wherewith he continues to tickle his ribs. When in a +less scornful mood, he is at least supremely indifferent, deigning to +regard you with but the corner of an eye, while he rasps a nut or chips +a cone. + +Ordinarily you must be philosophical or godly to suffer gibes with +equanimity, but you need be neither to endure the scoffs of this buffoon +of the woods and waysides. They only amuse you as they do him, and you +could forgive these tricks tenfold multiplied if he had no worse, and +love him if he were but half as good as he is beautiful. + +He exasperates when he cuts off your half-grown apples and pears in +sheer wantonness, injuring you and profiting himself only in the +pleasure of seeing and hearing them fall. But you are heated with a +hotter wrath when he reveals his chief wickedness, and you catch sight +of him stealthily skulking along the leafy by-paths of the branches, +silently intent on evil deeds and plotting the murder of callow +innocents. Quite noiseless now, himself, his whereabouts are only +indicated by the distressful outcry of the persecuted and sympathizing +birds and the fluttering swoops of their futile attacks upon the +marauder. Then when you see him gliding away, swift and silent as a +shadow, bearing a half-naked fledgeling in his jaws, if this is the +first revelation of such wickedness, you are as painfully surprised as +if you had discovered a little child in some wanton act of cruelty. + +It seems quite out of all fitness of nature that this merry fellow +should turn murderer, that this dainty connoisseur of choice nuts and +tender buds, and earliest discoverer and taster of the maple's +sweetness, should become so grossly carnivorous and savagely +bloodthirsty. But anon he will cajole you with pretty ways into +forgetfulness and forgiveness of his crimes. You find yourself offering, +in extenuation of his sins, confession of your own offenses. Have not +you, too, wrought havoc among harmless broods and brought sorrow to +feathered mothers and woodland homes? Is he worse than you, or are you +better than he? Against his sins you set his beauty and tricksy manners, +and for them would not banish him out of the world nor miss the +incomparable touch of wild life that his presence gives it. + + + + +XXXVIII + +THE RUFFED GROUSE + + +The woods in the older parts of our country possess scarcely a trait of +the primeval forest. The oldest trees have a comparatively youthful +appearance, and are pygmies in girth beside the decaying stumps of their +giant ancestors. They are not so shagged with moss nor so scaled with +lichens. The forest floor has lost its ancient carpet of ankle-deep moss +and the intricate maze of fallen trees in every stage of decay, and +looks clean-swept and bare. The tangle of undergrowth is gone, many of +the species which composed it having quite disappeared, as have many of +the animals that flourished in the perennial shade of the old woods. + +If in their season one sees and hears more birds among their lower +interlaced branches, he is not likely to catch sight or sound of many of +the denizens of the old wilderness. No startled deer bounds away before +him, nor bear shuffles awkwardly from his feast of mast at one's +approach, nor does one's flesh creep at the howl of the gathering wolves +or the panther's scream or the rustle of his stealthy footsteps. + +But as you saunter on your devious way you may hear a rustle of quick +feet in the dry leaves and a sharp, insistent cry, a succession of +short, high-pitched clucks running into and again out of a querulous +"_ker-r-r-r_," all expressing warning as much as alarm. Your ears guide +your eyes to the exact point from which the sounds apparently come, but +if these are not keen and well trained they fail to detach any animate +form from the inanimate dun and gray of dead leaves and underbrush. + +With startling suddenness out of the monotony of lifeless color in an +eddying flurry of dead leaves, fanned to erratic flight by his +wing-beats, the ruffed grouse bursts into view, in full flight with the +first strokes of his thundering pinions, and you have a brief vision of +untamed nature as it was in the old days. On either side of the +vanishing brown nebula the ancient mossed and lichened trunks rear +themselves again, above it their lofty ramage veils the sky, beneath it +lie the deep, noiseless cushion of moss, the shrubs and plants that the +old wood rangers knew and the moose browsed on, and the tangled trunks +of fallen trees. You almost fancy that you hear the long-ago silenced +voices of the woods, so vividly does this wild spirit for an instant +conjure up a vision of the old wild world whereof he is a survival. + +Acquaintance with civilized man has not tamed him, but has made him the +wilder. He deigns to feed upon apple-tree buds and buckwheat and +woodside clover, not as a gift, but a begrudged compensation for what +you have taken from him, and gives you therefor not even the thanks of +familiarity; and notwithstanding his acquaintance with generations of +your race he will not suffer you to come so near to him as he would your +grandfather. + +If, when the leaves are falling, you find him in your barnyard, garden, +or out-house, or on the porch, do not think he has any intention of +associating with you or your plebeian poultry. You can only wonder where +he found refuge from the painted shower when all his world was wooded. +If he invites your attendance at his drum solo, it is only to fool you +with the sight of an empty stage, for you must be as stealthy and +keen-eyed as a lynx to see his proud display of distended ruff and wide +spread of barred tail and accelerated beat of wings that mimic thunder, +or see even the leafy curtain of his stage flutter in the wind of his +swift exit. + +How the definite recognition of his motionless form evades you, so +perfectly are his colors merged into those of his environment, whether +it be in the flush greenness of summer, the painted hues of autumn or +its later faded dun and gray, or in the whiteness of winter. Among one +or the other he is but a clot of dead leaves, a knot upon a branch, the +gray stump of a sapling protruding from the snow, or, covered deep in +the unmarked whiteness, he bursts from it like a mine exploded at your +feet, leaving you agape till he has vanished from your sight and your +ears have caught the last flick of his wings against the dry branches. + +In May, his mate sits on her nest, indistinguishable among the brown +leaves and gray branches about her. Later, when surprised with her +brood, how conspicuous she makes herself, fluttering and staggering +along the ground, while her callow chicks, old in cunning though so +lately their eyes first beheld the world, scatter in every direction +like a shattered globule of quicksilver and magically disappear where +there is no apparent hiding-place. Did they con the first lesson of +safety in the dark chamber of the egg, or absorb it with the warmth of +the brooding breast that gave them life? + +Listen, and out of the silence which follows the noisy dispersion of the +family hear the low sibilant voice of the mother calling her children to +her or cautioning them to continued hiding. Perhaps you may see her, +alertly skulking among the underbrush, still uttering that tender, +persuasive cry, so faint that the chirp of a cricket might overbear it. +Scatter her brood when the members are half grown and almost as strong +of wing as herself, and you presently hear her softly calling them and +assuring them of her continued care. + +Among many things that mark the changing season, is the dispersion of +this wildwood family. Each member is now shifting for itself in matters +of seeking food, safety, pleasure, and comfort. You will come upon one +in the ferny undergrowth of the lowland woods where he is consorting +with woodcock, frighten another from his feast on the fence-side +elderberries, scare one in the thick shadows of the evergreens, another +on the sparsely wooded steep of a rocky hillside, and later hear the +drum-beat of a young cock that the soft Indian summer has fooled into +springtime love-making, and each has the alertness that complete +self-dependence has enforced. + +Still, you may come upon them gathered in social groups, yet each going +his own way when flushed. Upon rare occasions you may surprise a grand +convention of all the grouse of the region congregated on the sunny lee +of a hillside. It is a sight and sound to remember long, though for the +moment you forget the gun in your hands, when by ones, twos, and dozens +the dusky forms burst away up wind, down wind, across wind, signalling +their departure with volleys of intermittent and continuous thunder. Not +many times in your life will you see this, yet, if but once, you will be +thankful that you have not outlived all the old world's wildness. + + + + +XXXIX + +TWO SHOTS + + +A boy of fourteen, alert, but too full of life to move slowly and +cautiously, is walking along an old road in the woods, a road that winds +here and there with meanderings that now seem vagrant and purposeless +but once led to the various piles of cordwood and logs for whose +harvesting it was hewn. Goodly trees have since grown up from saplings +that the judicious axe then scorned. Beeches, whose flat branches are +shelves of old gold; poplars, turned to towers of brighter metal by the +same alchemy of autumn; and hemlocks, pyramids of unchanging green, +shadow the leaf-strewn forest floor and its inconspicuous dotting of +gray and russet stumps. How happy the boy is in the freedom of the +woods; proud to carry his first own gun, as he treads gingerly but +somewhat noisily over the fallen leaves and dry twigs, scanning with +quick glances the thickets, imagining himself the last Mohican on the +warpath, or Leather-Stocking scouting in the primeval wilderness. + +Under his breath he tells the confiding chickadees and woodpeckers what +undreamed-of danger they would be in from such a brave, were he not in +pursuit of nobler game. Then he hears a sudden rustle of the dry leaves, +the _quit! quit!_ of a partridge, catches a glimpse of a rapidly running +brown object, which on the instant is launched into a flashing +thunderous flight. Impelled by the instinct of the born sportsman, he +throws the gun to his shoulder, and scarcely with aim, but in the +direction of the sound, pulls trigger and fires. + +On the instant he is ashamed of his impulsive haste, which fooled him +into wasting a precious charge on the inanimate evergreen twigs and sere +leaves that come dropping and floating down to his shot, and is thankful +that he is the only witness of his own foolishness. + +But what is that? Above the patter and rustle of falling twigs and +leaves comes a dull thud, followed by the rapid beat of wings upon the +leaf-strewn earth. With heart beating as fast he runs toward the sound, +afraid to believe his senses, when he sees a noble grouse fluttering out +feebly his last gasp. He cannot be sure that it is not all a dream that +may vanish in a breath, till he has the bird safe in his hand, and then +he is faint with joy. Was there ever such a shot? Would that all the +world were here to see, for who can believe it just for the telling? +There never will be another such a bird, nor such a shot, for him. He +fires a dozen ineffectual ones at fair marks that day, but the glory of +that one shot would atone for twice as many misses, and he need not tell +of them, only of this, whereof he bears actual proof, though he himself +can hardly accept it, till again and again he tests it by admiring look +and touch. + +Years after the killing of grouse on the wing has become a +matter-of-course occurrence in his days of upland shooting, the memory +of this stands clearest and best. Sixty years later the old wood road +winds through the same scene, by some marvel of kindliness or +oversight, untouched by the devastating axe, unchanged but by the forest +growth of half a century and its seemly and decorous decay. A thicker +screen of undergrowth borders the more faintly traced way. The +golden-brown shelves of the beech branches sweep more broadly above it, +the spires of the evergreens are nearer the sky, and the yellow towers +of the poplars are builded higher, but they are the same trees and +beneath them may yet be seen the gray stumps and trunks mouldered to +russet lines, of their ancient brethren who fell when these were +saplings. + +The gray-bearded man who comes along the old wood road wonders at the +little change so many years have made in the scene of the grand +achievements of his youth, and in his mind he runs over the long +calendar to assure himself that so many autumns have glowed and faded +since that happy day. How can he have grown old, his ear dull to the +voices of the woods, his sight dim with the slowly but surely falling +veil of coming blindness, so that even now the road winds into a misty +haze just before him, yet these trees be young and lusty? + +As they and the unfaded page of memory record the years, it was but a +little while ago that his heart was almost bursting with pride of that +first triumph. Would that he might once more feel that delicious pang of +joy. + +Hark! There is the _quit! quit!_ of a grouse, and there another and +another, and the patter and rustle of their retreating footsteps, +presently launching into sudden flight, vaguely seen in swift bolts of +gray, hurtling among gray tree trunks and variegated foliage. True to +the old instinct his gun leaps to his shoulder, and he fires again and +again at the swift target. But the quick eye no longer guides the aim, +the timely finger no longer pulls the trigger, and the useless pellets +waste themselves on the leaves and twigs. + +The woods are full of grouse, as if all the birds of the region had +congregated here to mock his failing sight and skill. On every side they +burst away from him like rockets, and his quick but futile charges in +rapid succession are poured in their direction, yet not a bird falls, +nor even a feather wavers down through the still October air. His dim +eyes refuse to mark down the birds that alight nearest; he can only +vaguely follow their flight by the whirring rush of wings and the click +of intercepting branches. + +He is not ashamed of his loss of skill, only grieved to know that his +shooting days are over, yet he is glad there is no one near to see his +failure. He makes renunciation of all title to the name of a crack shot, +too well knowing that this is no brief lapse of skill, but the final, +inevitable falling off of the quick eye and sure hand. Slowly and sadly +he makes his way to where the shaded path merges into the sunny +clearing. There, from the cover of the last bush, a laggard bird springs +as if thrown from a catapult, describing in his flight an arc of a great +circle, and clearly defined against the steel-blue sky. + +Again the gun springs instinctively to the shoulder, the instantaneous +aim is taken well ahead on the line of flight, the trigger pressed in +the nick of time, the charge explodes, and out of a cloud of feathers +drifting and whirling in the eddies of his own wing-beats, the noble +bird sweeps downward in the continuation of the course that ends with a +dull thud on the pasture sward. + +The old sportsman lifts his clean-killed bird without a thrill of +exultation--he is only devoutly thankful for the happy circumstance +which made successful the last shot he will ever fire, and that not as a +miss he may remember it. Henceforth untouched by him his gun shall hang +upon the wall, its last use linked with the pleasant memory of his last +shot. + + + + +XL + +NOVEMBER DAYS + + +In a midsummer sleep one dreams of winter, its cold, its silence and +desolation all surrounding him; then awakes, glad to find himself in the +reality of the light and warmth of summer. + +Were we dreaming yesterday of woods more gorgeous in their leafage than +a flower garden in the flush of profusest bloom, so bright with +innumerable tints that autumnal blossoms paled beside them as stars at +sunrise? Were we dreaming of air soft as in springtime, of the gentle +babble of brooks, the carol of bluebirds, the lazy chirp of crickets, +and have we suddenly awakened to be confronted by the desolation of +naked forests, the more forlorn for the few tattered remnants of gay +apparel that flutter in the bleak wind? To hear but the sullen roar of +the chill blast and the clash of stripped boughs, the fitful scurry of +wind-swept leaves and the raving of swollen streams, swelling and +falling as in changing stress of passion, and the heavy leaden patter of +rain on roof and sodden leaves and earth? + +Verily, the swift transition is like a pleasant dream with an unhappy +awakening. Yet not all November days are dreary. Now the sun shines warm +from the steel-blue sky, its eager rays devour the rime close on the +heels of the retreating shadows, and the north wind sleeps. The voice of +the brimming stream falls to an even, softer cadence, like the murmur of +pine forests swept by the light touch of a steady breeze. + +Then the wind breathes softly from the south, and there drifts with it +from warmer realms, or arises at its touch from the earth about us, or +falls from the atmosphere of heaven itself, not smoke, nor haze, but +something more ethereal than these: a visible air, balmy with odors of +ripeness as the breath of June with perfume of flowers. It pervades +earth and sky, which melt together in it, till the bounds of neither are +discernible, and blends all objects in the landscape beyond the near +foreground, till nothing is distinct but some golden gleam of sunlit +water, bright as the orb that shines upon it. Flocks of migrating geese +linger on the stubble fields, and some laggard crows flap lazily athwart +the sky or perch contentedly upon the naked treetops as if they cared to +seek no clime more genial. The brief heavenly beauteousness of Indian +summer has fallen upon the earth, a few tranquil days of ethereal +mildness dropped into the sullen or turbulent border of winter. + +In November days, as in all others, the woods are beautiful to the lover +of nature and to the sportsman who in their love finds the finer flavor +of his pastime. Every marking of the gray trunks, each moss-patch and +scale of lichen on them, is shown more distinctly now in the intercepted +light, and the delicate tracery of the bare branches and their netted +shadows on the rumpled carpet of the forest floor, have a beauty as +distinctive as the fullness of green or frost-tinted leafage and its +silhouette of shade. + +No blossom is left in woods or fields, save where in the one the +witch-hazel unfolds its unseasonable flowers yellow beneath cold skies, +or a pink blossom of herb-robert holds out with modest bravery in a +sheltered cranny of the rocks; and where in the other, the ghostly bloom +of everlasting rustles above the leafless stalks in the wind-swept +pastures. There are brighter flashes of color in the sombre woods where +the red winter-berries shine on their leafless stems and the orange and +scarlet clusters of the twining bitter-sweet light up the gray trellis +of the vagrant climber. + +No sense of loss or sadness oppresses the soul of the ardent sportsman +as he ranges the unroofed aisles alert for the wary grouse, the skulking +woodcock, full-grown and strong of wing and keen-eyed for every enemy, +or the hare flashing his half-donned winter coat among the gray +underbrush as he bounds away before the merry chiding of the beagles. +The brown monotony of the marshes is pleasant to him as green fields, +while the wild duck tarries in the dark pools and the snipe probes the +unfrozen patches of ooze. To him all seasons are kind, all days +pleasant, wherein he may pursue his sport, though the rain pelt him, +chill winds assail him, or the summer sun shower upon him its most +fervent rays, and in these changeful days of November he finds his full +measure of content. + + + + +XLI + +THE MUSKRAT + + +A little turning of nature from her own courses banishes the beaver from +his primal haunts, but his less renowned and lesser cousin, the muskrat, +philosophically accommodates himself to the changed conditions of their +common foster mother and still clings fondly to her altered breast. + +The ancient forests may be swept away and their successors disappear, +till there is scarcely left him a watersoaked log to use as an +intermediate port in his coastwise voyages; continual shadow may give +place to diurnal sunshine, woodland to meadow and pasture, the plough +tear the roof of his underground home, and cattle graze where once only +the cloven hoofs of the deer and the moose trod the virgin mould, yet he +holds his old place. + +In the springtides of present years as in those of centuries past his +whining call echoes along the changed shores, his wake seams with +silver the dark garment of the water, and his comically grim visage +confronts you now as it did the Waubanakee bowmen in the old days when +the otter and the beaver were his familiars. + +Unlike the beaver's slowly maturing crops, his food supply is constantly +provided in the annual growth of the marshes. Here in banks contiguous +to endless store of succulent sedge and lily roots and shell-cased +tidbits of mussels, he tunnels his stable water-portaled home, and out +there, by the channel's edge, builds his sedge-thatched hut before the +earliest frost falls upon the marshes. In its height, some find prophecy +of high or low water, and in the thickness of its walls the forecast of +a mild or severe winter, but the prophet himself is sometimes flooded +out of his house, sometimes starved and frozen in it. + +In the still, sunny days between the nights of its unseen building, the +blue spikes of the pickerel-weed and the white trinities of the +arrow-head yet bloom beside it. Then in the golden and scarlet +brightness of autumn the departing wood drake rests on the roof to preen +his plumage, and later the dusky duck swims on its watery lawn. Above it +the wild geese harrow the low, cold arch of the sky, the last fleet of +sere leaves drifts past it in the bleak wind, and then ice and snow draw +the veil of the long winter twilight over the muskrat's homes and +haunts. + +These may be gloomy days he spends groping in the dark chambers of his +hut and burrow, or gathering food in the dimly lighted icy water, with +never a sight of the upper world nor ever a sunbeam to warm him. + +But there are more woful days when the sun and the sky are again opened +to him, and he breathes the warm air of spring, hears the blackbirds +sing and the bittern boom. For, amid all the gladness of nature's +reawakened life, danger lurks in all his paths; the cruel, hungry trap +gapes for him on every jutting log, on every feeding-bed, even in the +doorway of his burrow and by the side of his house. + +The trapper's skiff invades all his pleasant waters; on every hand he +hears the splash of its paddles, the clank of its setting pole, and he +can scarcely show his head above water but a deadly shower of lead +bursts upon it. He hears the simulated call of his beloved, and voyaging +hot-hearted to the cheating tryst meets only death. + +At last comes the summer truce and happy days of peace in the tangled +jungle of the marsh, with the wild duck and bittern nesting beside his +watery path, the marsh wren weaving her rushy bower above it. + +So the days of his life go on, and the days of his race continue in the +land of his unnumbered generations. Long may he endure to enliven the +drear tameness of civilization with a memory of the world's old +wildness. + + + + +XLII + +NOVEMBER VOICES + + +With flowers and leaves, the bird songs have faded out, and the hum and +chirp of insect life, the low and bleat of herds and flocks afield, and +the busy sounds of husbandry have grown infrequent. There are lapses of +such silence that the ear aches for some audible signal of life; and +then to appease it there comes with the rising breeze the solemn murmur +of the pines like the song of the sea on distant shores, the sibilant +whisper of the dead herbage, the clatter of dry pods, and the fitful +stir of fallen leaves, like a scurry of ghostly feet fleeing in affright +at the sound of their own passage. + +The breeze puffs itself into a fury of wind, and the writhing branches +shriek and moan and clash as if the lances of phantom armies were +crossed in wild męlée. + +The woods are full of unlipped voices speaking one with another in +pleading, in anger, in soft tones of endearment; and one hears his name +called so distinctly that he answers and calls again, but no answer is +vouchsafed him, only moans and shrieks and mocking laughter, till one +has enough of wild voices and longs for a relapse of silence. + +More softly it is broken when through the still air comes the cheery +note of the chickadee and the little trumpet of his comrade the nuthatch +and far away the muffled beat of the grouse's drum, or from a distance +the mellow baying of a hound and its answering echoes, swelling and +dying on hilltop or glen, or mingling in melodious confusion. + +From skyward comes the clangor of clarions, wild and musical, +proclaiming the march of gray cohorts of geese advancing southward +through the hills and dales of cloudland. There come, too, the quick +whistling beat of wild ducks' pinions, the cry of a belated plover, and +the creaking voice of a snipe. Then the bawling of a ploughman in a +far-off field--and farther away the rumble and shriek of a railroad +train--brings the listening ear to earth again and its plodding busy +life. + + + + +XLIII + +THANKSGIVING + + +Doubtless many a sportsman has bethought him that his Thanksgiving +turkey will have a finer flavor if the feast is prefaced by a few hours +in the woods, with dog and gun. Meaner fare than this day of bounty +furnishes forth is made delicious by such an appetizer, and the +Thanksgiving feast will be none the worse for it. + +What can be sweeter than the wholesome fragrance of the fallen leaves? +What more invigorating than the breath of the two seasons that we catch: +here in the northward shade of a wooded hill the nipping air of winter, +there where the southern slope meets the sun the genial warmth of an +October day. Here one's footsteps crunch sharply the frozen herbage and +the ice-bearded border of a spring's overflow; there splash in thawed +pools and rustle softly among the dead leaves. + +The flowers are gone, but they were not brighter than the winter berries +and bittersweet that glow around one. The deciduous leaves are fallen +and withered, but they were not more beautiful than the delicate tracery +of their forsaken branches, and the steadfast foliage of the evergreens +was never brighter. The song-birds are singing in southern woods, but +chickadee, nuthatch, and woodpecker are chatty and companionable and +keep the woods in heart with a stir of life. + +Then from overhead or underfoot a ruffed grouse booms away into the gray +haze of branches, and one hears the whirr and crash of his headlong +flight long after he is lost to sight, perchance long after the echo of +a futile shot has died away. Far off one hears the intermittent +discharge of rifles where the shooters are burning powder for their +Thanksgiving turkey, and faintly from far away comes the melancholy +music of a hound. Then nearer and clearer, then a rustle of velvet-clad +feet, and lo, reynard himself, the wildest spirit of the woods, +materializes out of the russet indistinctness and flashes past, with +every sense alert. Then the hound goes by, and footstep, voice, and echo +sink into silence. For silence it is, though the silver tinkle of the +brook is in it, and the stir of the last leaf shivering forsaken on its +bough. + +In such quietude one may hold heartfelt thanksgiving, feasting full upon +a crust and a draught from the icy rivulet, and leave rich viands and +costly wines for the thankless surfeiting of poorer men. + + + + +XLIV + +DECEMBER DAYS + + +Fewer and more chill have become the hours of sunlight, and longer +stretch the noontide shadows of the desolate trees athwart the tawny +fields and the dead leaves that mat the floor of the woods. + +The brook braids its shrunken strands of brown water with a hushed +murmur over a bed of sodden leaves between borders of spiny ice +crystals, or in the pools swirl in slow circles the imprisoned fleets of +bubbles beneath a steadfast roof of glass. Dark and sullen the river +sulks its cheerless way, enlivened but by the sheldrake that still +courses his prey in the icy water, and the mink that like a fleet black +shadow steals along the silent banks. Gaudy wood duck and swift-winged +teal have long since departed and left stream and shore to these +marauders and to the trapper, who now gathers here his latest harvest. + +The marshes are silent and make no sign of life, though beneath the +domes of many a sedge-built roof the unseen muskrats are astir, and +under the icy cover of the channels fare to and fro on their affairs of +life, undisturbed by any turmoil of the upper world. + +When the winds are asleep the lake bears on its placid breast the +moveless images of its quiet shores, deserted now by the latest pleasure +seekers among whose tenantless camps the wild wood-folk wander as +fearlessly as if the foot of man had never trodden here. From the still +midwaters far away a loon halloos to the winds to come forth from their +caves, and yells out his mad laughter in anticipation of the coming +storm. A herald breeze blackens the water with its advancing steps, and +with a roar of its trumpets the angry wind sweeps down, driving the +white-crested ranks of waves to assault the shores. Far up the long +incline of pebbly beaches they rush, and leaping up the walls of rock +hang fetters of ice upon the writhing trees. Out of the seething waters +arise lofty columns of vapor, which like a host of gigantic phantoms +stalk, silent and majestic, above the turmoil, till they fall in +wind-tossed showers of frost flakes. + +There are days when almost complete silence possesses the woods, yet +listening intently one may hear the continual movement of myriads of +snow fleas pattering on the fallen leaves like the soft purr of such +showers as one might imagine would fall in Lilliput. + +With footfall so light that he is seen close at hand sooner than heard, +a hare limps past; too early clad in his white fur that shall make him +inconspicuous amid the winter snow, his coming shines from afar through +the gray underbrush and on the tawny leaves. Unseen amid his dun and +gray environment, the ruffed grouse skulks unheard, till he bursts away +in thunderous flight. Overhead, invisible in the lofty thicket of a +hemlock's foliage, a squirrel drops a slow patter of cone chips, while +undisturbed a nuthatch winds his spiral way down the smooth trunk. Faint +and far away, yet clear, resound the axe strokes of a chopper, and at +intervals the muffled roar of a tree's downfall. + +Silent and moveless cascades of ice veil the rocky steeps where in more +genial days tiny rivulets dripped down the ledges and mingled their +musical tinkle with the songs of birds and the flutter of green leaves. + +Winter berries and bittersweet still give here and there a fleck of +bright color to the universal gray and dun of the trees, and the carpet +of cast-off leaves and the dull hue of the evergreens but scarcely +relieve the sombreness of the woodland landscape. + +Spanning forest and field with a low flat arch of even gray, hangs a sky +as cold as the landscape it domes and whose mountain borders lie hidden +in its hazy foundations. Through this canopy of suspended snow the low +noontide sun shows but a blotch of yellowish gray, rayless and giving +forth no warmth, and, as it slants toward its brief decline, grows yet +dimmer till it is quite blotted out in the gloom of the half-spent +afternoon. + +The expectant hush that broods over the forlorn and naked earth is +broken only by the twitter of a flock of snow buntings which, like a +straight-blown flurry of flakes, drift across the fields, and, sounding +solemnly from the depths of the woods, the hollow hoot of a great owl. +Then the first flakes come wavering down, then blurring all the +landscape into vague unreality they fall faster, with a soft purr on +frozen grass and leaves till it becomes unheard on the thickening +noiseless mantle of snow. Deeper and deeper the snow infolds the earth, +covering all its unsightliness of death and desolation. + +Now white-furred hare and white-feathered bunting are at one with the +white-clad world wherein they move, and we, so lately accustomed to the +greenness of summer and the gorgeousness of autumn, wondering at the +ease wherewith we accept this marvel of transformation, welcome these +white December days and in them still find content. + + + + +XLV + +WINTER VOICES + + +Out of her sleep nature yet gives forth voices betokening that life +abides beneath the semblance of death, that her warm heart still beats +under the white shroud that infolds her rigid breast. + +A smothered tinkle as of muffled bells comes up from the streams through +their double roofing of snow and ice, and the frozen pulse of the trees +complains of its thralldom with a resonant twang as of a strained cord +snapped asunder. + +Beneath their frozen plains, the lakes bewail their imprisonment with +hollow moans awakening a wild and mournful chorus of echoes from +sleeping shores that answer now no caress of ripples nor angry stroke of +waves nor dip and splash of oar and paddle. + +The breeze stirs leafless trees and shaggy evergreens to a murmur that +is sweet, if sadder than they gave it in the leafy days of summer, when +it bore the perfume of flowers and the odor of green fields, and one may +imagine the spirit of springtime and summer lingers among the naked +boughs, voicing memory and hope. + +Amid all the desolation of their woodland haunts the squirrels chatter +their delight in windless days of sunshine, and scoff at biting cold and +wintry blasts. The nuthatch winds his tiny trumpet, the titmouse pipes +his cheery note, the jay tries the innumerable tricks of his unmusical +voice, and from their rollicking flight athwart the wavering slant of +snowflakes drifts the creaking twitter of buntings. + +The sharp, resonant strokes of the woodman's axe and the groaning +downfall of the monarchs that it lays low, the shouts of teamsters, the +occasional report of a gun, the various sounds of distant farmstead +life, the jangle of sleigh bells on far-off highways, the rumbling roar +of a railroad train rushing and panting along its iron path, and the +bellowing of its far-echoed signals, all proclaim how busily affairs of +life and pleasure still go on while the summer-wearied earth lies +wrapped in her winter sleep. + +Night, stealing upon her in dusky pallor, under cloudy skies, or +silvering her face with moonbeams and starlight, brings other and wilder +voices. Solemnly the unearthly trumpet of the owl resounds from his +woodland hermitage, the fox's gasping bark, wild and uncanny, marks at +intervals his wayward course across the frozen fields on some errand of +love or freebooting, and, swelling and falling with puff and lapse of +the night wind, as mournful and lonesome as the voice of a vagrant +spirit, comes from the mountain ridges the baying of a hound, hunting +alone and unheeded, while his master basks in the comfort of his +fireside. + + + + +XLVI + +THE VARYING HARE + + +It is wonderful that with such a host of enemies to maintain himself +against, the varying hare may still be counted as one of our familiar +acquaintances. Except in the depths of the great wildernesses, he has no +longer to fear the wolf, the wolverine, the panther, and the lesser +_felidć_, but where the younger woodlands have become his congenial +home, they are also the home of a multitude of relentless enemies. The +hawk, whose keen eyes pierce the leafy roof of the woods, wheels above +him as he crouches in his form. When he goes abroad under the moon and +stars, the terrible shadow of the horned owl falls upon his path, and +the fox lurks beside it to waylay him, and the clumsy raccoon, waddling +home from a cornfield revel, may blunder upon the timid wayfarer. + +But of all his enemies none is more inveterate than man, though he is +not, as are the others, impelled by necessity, but only by that +savagery, the survival of barbarism, which we dignify by the name of the +sporting instinct. + +Against them all, how slight seem the defenses of such a weak and timid +creature. Yet impartial nature, having compassed him about with foes, +has shod his feet with swiftness and silence, and clad his body with an +almost invisible garment. The vagrant zephyrs touch the fallen leaves +more noisily than his soft pads press them. The first snow that whitens +the fading gorgeousness of the forest carpet falls scarcely more +silently. + +Among the tender greens of early summer and the darker verdure of +midsummer, the hare's brown form is as inconspicuous as a tuft of last +year's leaves, and set in the brilliancy of autumnal tints, or the +russet hue of their decay, it still eludes the eye. Then winter clothes +him in her own whiteness so he may sit unseen upon her lap. + +When he has donned his winter suit too early and his white coat is +dangerously conspicuous on the brown leaves and among the misty gray of +naked undergrowth, he permits your near approach as confidently as if he +were of a color with his surroundings. Is he not aware that his spotless +raiment betrays him, or does he trust that he may be mistaken for a +white stone or a scroll of bark sloughed from a white birch? That would +hardly save him from the keener-sensed birds and beasts of prey, but may +fool your dull eyes. + +In summer wanderings in the woods you rarely catch sight of him, though +coming upon many faintly traced paths where he and his wife and their +brown babies make their nightly way among the ferns. Nor are you often +favored with a sight of him in more frequent autumnal tramps, unless +when he is fleeing before the hounds whose voices guide you to a point +of observation. He has now no eyes nor ears for anything but the +terrible clamor that pursues him wherever he turns, however he doubles. +If a shot brings him down and does not kill him, you will hear a cry so +piteous that it will spoil your pleasant dreams of sport for many a +night. + +After a snowfall a single hare will in one night make such a multitude +of tracks as will persuade you that a dozen have been abroad. Perhaps +the trail is so intricately tangled with a purpose of misleading +pursuit, perhaps it is but the record of saunterings as idle as your +own. + +As thus you wander through the pearl-enameled arches, your roving +glances are arrested by a rounded form which, as white and motionless as +everything around it, yet seems in some way not so lifeless. You note +that the broad footprints end there, and then become aware of two wide, +bright eyes, unblinkingly regarding you from the fluffy tuft of +whiteness. How perfectly assured he is of his invisibility, and if he +had but closed his bright eyes you might not guess that he was anything +but a snow-covered clump of moss. How still and breathless he sits till +you almost touch him, and then the white clod suddenly flashes into life +and impetuous motion, bounding away in a halo of feathery flakes as if +he himself were dissolving into white vapor. + +Happy he, if he might so elude all foes; but alas for him, if the +swift-winged owl had been as close above him or the agile fox within +leap. Then instead of this glimpse of beautiful wild life to treasure in +your memory, you would only have read the story of a brief tragedy, +briefly written, with a smirch of blood and a tuft of rumpled fur. + + + + +XLVII + +THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE + + +The chief requisite of a winter camp-fire is volume. The feeble flame +and meagre bed of embers that are a hot discomfort to the summer camper, +while he hovers over coffee-pot and frying-pan, would be no more than +the glow of a candle toward tempering this nipping air. This fire must +be no dainty nibbler of chips and twigs that a boy's hatchet may +furnish, but a roaring devourer of logs, for whose carving the axe must +be long and stoutly wielded--a very glutton of solid fuel, continually +demanding more and licking with its broad red tongues at the branches +that sway and toss high above in its hot breath. + +So fierce is it that you approach cautiously to feed it and the snow +shrinks away from it and can quench of it only the tiny sparks that are +spit out upon it. You must not be too familiar with it, yet it is your +friend after its own manner, fighting away for you the creeping demon of +cold, and holding at bay, on the rim of its glare, the wolf and the +panther. + +With its friendly offices are mingled many elfish tricks. It boils your +pot just to the point you wish, then boils it over and licks up the +fragrant brew of celestial leaf or Javanese berry. It roasts or broils +your meat to a turn, then battles with you for it and sears your fingers +when you strive to snatch the morsel from its jaws, and perhaps burns it +to a crisp before your very eyes, vouchsafing but the tantalizing +fragrance of the feast. + +Then it may fall into the friendliest and most companionable of moods, +lazily burning its great billets of ancient wood while you burn the +Virginian weed, singing to you songs of summer, its tongues of flame +murmuring like the south wind among green leaves, and mimicking the +chirp of the crickets and the cicada's cry in the simmer of exuding sap +and vent of gas, and out of its smoke blossom sparks, that drift away +in its own currents like red petals of spent flowers. + +It paints pictures, some weird or grotesque, some beautiful, now of +ghosts and goblins, now of old men, now of fair women, now of lakes +crinkled with golden waves and towers on pine-crowned crags ruddy with +the glow of sunset, sunny meadows and pasture lands, with farmsteads and +flocks and herds. + +The ancient trees that rear themselves aloft like strong pillars set to +hold up the narrow arch of darkness, exhale an atmosphere of the past, +in which your thoughts, waking or sleeping, drift backward to the old +days when men whose dust was long since mingled with the forest mould +moved here in the rage of war and the ardor of the chase. Shadowy forms +of dusky warriors, horribly marked in war paint, gather about the +camp-fire and sit in its glare in voiceless council, or encircle it in +the grotesquely terrible movement of the war dance. + +Magically the warlike scene changes to one of peace. The red hunters +steal silently in with burdens of game. The squaws sit in the ruddy +light plying their various labors, while their impish children play +around them in mimicry of battle and the chase. + +All then vanish, and white-clad soldiers of France bivouac in their +place--or red-coated Britons, or Provincial rangers, unsoldierly to look +upon, in home-spun garb, but keen-eyed, alert, and the bravest of the +brave. + +These dissolve like wreaths of smoke, and a solitary white hunter, +clothed all in buckskin, sits over against you. His long flint-lock +rifle lying across his lap, he is looking with rapt gaze into the fire, +dreaming as you are. + +So, growing brighter as the daylight grows dim and the gloaming thickens +to the mirk, and paling again as daylight creeps slowly back upon the +world, but always bright in the diurnal twilight of the woods, the +camp-fire weaves and breaks its magic spells, now leaping, now lapsing, +as its own freaks move it. Then, perhaps, when it has charmed you far +across the border of dreamland and locked your eyes in the blindness of +sleep, it will startle you back to the cold reality of the wintry woods +with a crash and roar of sudden revival. + + + + +XLVIII + +JANUARY DAYS + + +In these midwinter days, how muffled is the earth in its immaculate +raiment, so disguised in whiteness that familiar places are strange, +rough hollows smoothed to mere undulations, deceitful to the eye and +feet, and level fields so piled with heaps and ridges that their owners +scarcely recognize them. The hovel is as regally roofed as the palace, +the rudest fence is a hedge of pearl, finer than a wall of marble, and +the meanest wayside weed is a white flower of fairyland. + +The woods, which frost and November winds stripped of their leafy +thatch, are roofed again, now with an arabesque of alabaster more +delicate than the green canopy that summer unfolded, and all the floor +is set in noiseless pavement, traced with a shifting pattern of blue +shadows. In these silent aisles the echoes are smothered at their +birth. There is no response of airy voices to the faint call of the +winter birds. The sound of the axe-stroke flies no farther than the +pungent fragrance of the smoke that drifts in a blue haze from the +chopper's fire. The report of the gun awakes no answering report, and +each mellow note of the hound comes separate to the ear, with no jangle +of reverberations. + +Fox and hound wallow through the snow a crumbling furrow that +obliterates identity of either trail, yet there are tracks that tell as +plain as written words who made them. Here have fallen, lightly as +snowflakes, the broad pads of the hare, white as the snow he trod; +there, the parallel tracks of another winter masker, the weasel, and +those of the squirrel, linking tree to tree. The leaps of a tiny +wood-mouse are lightly marked upon the feathery surface to where there +is the imprint of a light, swift pinion on either side, and the little +story of his wandering ends--one crimson blood drop the period that +marks the finis. + +In the blue shadow at the bottom of that winding furrow are the dainty +footprints of a grouse, and you wonder why he, so strong of wing, +should choose to wade laboriously the clogging snow even in his briefest +trip, rather than make his easy way through the unresisting air, and the +snow-written record of his wayward wanderings tells not why. Suddenly, +as if a mine had been sprung where your next footstep should fall and +with almost as startling, though harmless effect, another of his wild +tribe bursts upward through the unmarked white floor and goes whirring +and clattering away, scattering in powdery ruin the maze of delicate +tracery the snowfall wrought; and vanishes, leaving only an aerial +pathway of naked twigs to mark his impetuous passage. + +In the twilight of an evergreen thicket sits a great horned owl like a +hermit in his cell in pious contemplation of his own holiness and the +world's wickedness. But this recluse hates not sin, only daylight and +mankind. Out in the fields you may find the white-robed brother of this +gray friar, a pilgrim from the far north, brooding in the very face of +the sun, on some stack or outlying barn, but he will not suffer you to +come so near to him as will this solemn anchorite who stares at you +unmoved as a graven image till you come within the very shadows of his +roof. + +Marsh and channel are scarcely distinguishable now but by the white +domes of the muskrats' winter homes and here and there a sprawling +thicket or button bush, for the rank growth of weeds is beaten flat, and +the deep snow covers it and the channel ice in one unbroken sheet. + +Champlain's sheltered bays and coves are frozen and white with snow or +frost, and the open water, whether still or storm-tossed, black beneath +clouds or bluer than the blue dome that arches it, looks as cold as ice +and snow. Sometimes its steaming breath lies close above it, sometimes +mounts in swaying, lofty columns to the sky, but always cold and +ghostly, without expression of warmth or life. + +So far away to hoary peaks that shine with a glittering gleam against +the blue rim of the sky, or to the furthest bluegray line of woodland +that borders the horizon, stretches the universal whiteness, so coldly +shines the sun from the low curve of his course, and so chilly comes the +lightest waft of wind from wheresoever it listeth, that it tasks the +imagination to picture any land on all the earth where spring is just +awakening fresh life, or where summer dwells amid green leaves and +bright flowers, the music of birds and running waters, and of warm waves +on pleasant shores, or autumn yet lingers in the gorgeousness of many +hues. How far off beyond this world seems the possibility of such +seasons, how enduring and relentless this which encompasses us. + +And then, at the close of the brief white day, the sunset paints a +promise and a prophecy in a blaze of color on the sky. The gray clouds +kindle with red and yellow fire that burns about their purple hearts in +tints of infinite variety, while behind them and the dark blue rampart +of the mountains flames the last glory of the departing sun, fading in a +tint of tender green to the upper blue. Even the cold snow at our feet +flushes with warm color, and the eastern hills blush roseate against +the climbing, darkening shadow of the earth. + +It is as if some land of summer whose brightness has never been told lay +unveiled before us, its delectable mountains splendid with innumerable +hues, its lakes and streams of gold rippling to purple shores seeming +not so far before us but that we might, by a little journey, come to +them. + + + + +XLIX + +A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE + + +When the charitable mantle of the snow has covered the ugliness of the +earth, as one looks towards the woodlands he may see a distant dark +speck emerge from the blue shadow of the woods and crawl slowly +houseward. If born to the customs of this wintry land, he may guess at +once what it is; if not, speculation, after a little, gives way to +certainty, when the indistinct atom grows into a team of quick-stepping +horses or deliberate oxen hauling a sled-load of wood to the farmhouse. + +It is more than that. It is a part of the woods themselves, with much of +their wildness clinging to it, and with records, slight and fragmentary, +yet legible, of the lives of trees and birds and beasts and men coming +to our door. + +Before the sounds of the creaking sled and the answering creak of the +snow are heard, one sees the regular puffs of the team's breath jetting +out and climbing the cold air. The head and shoulders of the muffled +driver then appear, as he sticks by narrow foothold to the hinder part +of his sled, or trots behind it beating his breast with his numb hands. +Prone like a crawling band of scouts, endwise like battering-rams, not +upright with green banners waving, Birnam wood comes to Dunsinane to +fight King Frost. + +As the woodpile grows at the farmhouse door in a huge windrow of +sled-length wood or an even wall of cord wood, so in the woods there +widens a patch of uninterrupted daylight. Deep shade and barred and +netted shadow turn to almost even whiteness, as the axe saps the +foundations of summer homes of birds and the winter fastnesses of the +squirrels and raccoons. Here are the tracks of sled and team, where they +wound among rocks and stumps and over cradle knolls to make up a load; +and there are those of the chopper by the stump where he stood to fell +the tree, and along the great trough made by its fall. The snow is +flecked with chips, dark or pale according to their kind, just as they +alighted from their short flight, bark up or down or barkless or +edgewise, and with dry twigs and torn scraps of scattered moss. + +When the chopper comes to his work in the morning, he finds traces of +nightly visitors to his white island that have drifted to its shores out +of the gray sea of woods. Here is the print of the hare's furry foot +where he came to nibble the twigs of poplar and birch that yesterday +were switching the clouds, but have fallen, manna-like, from skyward to +feed him. A fox has skirted its shadowy margin, then ventured to explore +it, and in a thawy night a raccoon has waddled across it. + +The woodman is apt to kindle a fire more for company than warmth, though +he sits by it to eat his cold dinner, casting the crumbs to the +chickadees, which come fearlessly about him at all times. Blazing or +smouldering by turns, as it is fed or starved, the fire humanizes the +woods more than the man does. Now and then it draws to it a visitor, +oftenest a fox-hunter who has lost his hound, and stops for a moment to +light his pipe at the embers and to ask if his dog has been seen or +heard. Then he wades off through the snow, and is presently swallowed +out of sight by gray trees and blue shadows. Or the hound comes in +search of his master or a lost trail. He halts for an instant, with a +wistful look on his sorrowful face, then disappears, nosing his way into +the maw of the woods. + +If the wood is cut "sled length," which is a saving of time and also of +chips, which will now be made at the door and will serve to boil the +tea-kettle in summer, instead of rotting to slow fertilization of the +woodlot, the chopper is one of the regular farm hands or a "day man," +and helps load the sled when it comes. If the wood is four foot, he is a +professional, chopping by the cord, and not likely to pile his cords too +high or long, nor so closely that the squirrels have much more trouble +in making their way through them than over them; and the man comes and +goes according to his ambition to earn money. + +In whichever capacity the chopper plies his axe, he is pretty sure to +bring no sentimentalism to his task. He inherits the feeling that was +held by the old pioneers toward trees, who looked upon the noblest of +them as only giant weeds, encumbering the ground, and best got rid of by +the shortest means. To him the tree is a foe worthy of no respect or +mercy, and he feels the triumph of a savage conquerer when it comes +crashing down and he mounts the prostrate trunk to dismember it; the +more year-marks encircling its heart, the greater his victory. To his +ears, its many tongues tell nothing, or preach only heresy. Away with +the old tree to the flames! To give him his due, he is a skillful +executioner, and will compel a tree to fall across any selected stump +within its length. If one could forget the tree, it is a pretty sight to +watch the easy swing of the axe, and see how unerringly every blow goes +to its mark, knocking out chips of a span's breadth. It does not look +difficult nor like work; but could you strike "twice in a place," or in +half a day bring down a tree twice as thick as your body? The wise +farmer cuts, for fuel, only the dead and decaying trees in his woodlot, +leaving saplings and thrifty old trees to "stand up and grow better," as +the Yankee saying is. + +There is a prosperous and hospitable look in a great woodpile at a +farmhouse door. Logs with the moss of a hundred years on them, breathing +the odors of the woods, have come to warm the inmates and all in-comers. +The white smoke of these chimneys is spicy with the smell of seasoned +hard wood, and has a savor of roasts and stews that makes one hungry. If +you take the back track on a trail of pitchy smoke, it is sure to lead +you to a squalid threshold with its starved heap of pine roots and +half-decayed wood. Thrown down carelessly beside it is a dull axe, +wielded as need requires with spiteful awkwardness by a slatternly +woman, or laboriously upheaved and let fall with uncertain stroke by a +small boy. + +The Yankees who possess happy memories of the great open fires of old +time are growing few, but Whittier has embalmed for all time, in +"Snow-Bound," their comfort and cheer and picturesqueness. When the +trees of the virgin forest cast their shadows on the newly risen roof +there was no forecasting provision for winter. The nearest green tree +was cut, and hauled, full length, to the door, and with it the nearest +dry one was cut to match the span of the wide fireplace; and when these +were gone, another raid was made upon the woods; and so from hand to +mouth the fire was fed. It was not uncommon to draw the huge backlogs on +to the hearth with a horse, and sometimes a yoke of oxen were so +employed. Think of a door wide enough for this: half of the side of a +house to barricade against the savage Indians and savage cold! It was +the next remove from a camp-fire. There was further likeness to it in +the tales that were told beside it, of hunting and pioneer hardships, of +wild beasts and Indian forays, while the eager listeners drew to a +closer circle on the hearth, and the awed children cast covert scared +backward glances at the crouching and leaping shadows that thronged on +the walls, and the great samp-kettle bubbled and seethed on its trammel, +and the forgotten johnny-cake scorched on its tilted board. + +As conveniently near the shed as possible, the pile of sled-length wood +is stretching itself slowly, a huge vertebrate, every day or two gaining +in length; a joint of various woods, with great trunks at the bottom, +then smaller ones, gradually growing less to the topping out of saplings +and branches. Here is a sugar-maple, three feet through at the butt, +with the scars of many tappings showing on its rough bark. The oldest of +them may have been made by the Indians. Who knows what was their method +of tapping? Here is the mark of the gouge with which early settlers drew +the blood of the tree; a fashion learned, likely enough, from the +aboriginal sugar-makers, whose narrowest stone gouges were as passable +tools for the purpose as any they had for another. These more distinct +marks show where the auger of later years made its wounds. The old tree +has distilled its sweets for two races and many generations of men, +first into the bark buckets of Waubanakis, then into the ruder troughs +of Yankee pioneers, then into the more convenient wide-bottomed wooden +sap-tubs; and at last, when the march of improvement has spoiled the +wilderness of the woods with trim-built sugar-houses and patent +evaporators, the sap drips with resounding metallic tinkle into pails of +shining tin. Now the old maple has come to perform its last office, of +warming and cooking the food for a generation that was unborn when it +was yet a lusty tree. + +Beside it lies a great wild-cherry tree that somehow escaped the cabinet +maker when there was one in every town and cherry wood was in fashion. +Its fruit mollified the harshness of the New England rum of many an +old-time raising and husking. Next is a yellow birch with a shaggy mane +of rustling bark along its whole length, like a twelve-foot piece of the +sea serpent drifted ashore and hauled inland; then a white birch, no +longer white, but gray with a coating of moss, and black with belts of +old peelings, made for the patching of canoes and roofing of shanties. + +With these lies a black birch, whose once smooth bark age has scaled and +furrowed, and robbed of all its tenderness and most of its pungent, +aromatic flavor. Some of it yet lingers in the younger topmost twigs +which the hired man brings home to the little folks, who fall to gnawing +them like a colony of beavers. By it is an elm, whose hollow trunk was +the home of raccoons when it stood on its buttressed stump in the swamp. +Near by is a beech, its smooth bark wrinkled where branches bent away +from it, and blotched with spots of white and patches of black and gray +lichen. It is marked with innumerable fine scratches, the track of the +generations of squirrels that have made it their highway; and among +these, the wider apart and parallel nail-marks of a raccoon, and also +the drilling of woodpeckers. Here, too, are traces of man's visitation, +for distorted with the growth of years are initials, and a heart and +dart that symbolized the tender passion of some one of the past, who +wandered, love-sick, in the shadow of the woods. How long ago did +death's inevitable dart pierce his heart? Here he wrote a little of his +life's history, and now his name and that of his mistress are so +completely forgotten one cannot guess them by their first letters +inscribed in the yesterday of the forest's years. + +Above these logs, rolled up on skids or sled stakes, are smaller yet +goodly bodies of white ash, full of oars for the water and rails for the +land; and of black ash, as full of barrel hoops and basket splints, the +ridged and hoary bark shagged with patches of dark moss; and a pine too +knotty for sawing, with old turpentine boxes gashing its lower part, the +dry resin in them half overgrown, but odorous still; and oaks that have +borne their last acorns; and a sharded hickory that will never furnish +another nut for boy or squirrel, but now, and only this once, flail +handles, swingles, and oxbows, and helves for axes to hew down its +brethren, and wood to warm its destroyers, and smoke and fry ham for +them; and a basswood that will give the wild bees no more blossoms in +July, hollow-hearted and unfit for sleigh or toboggan, wood straight +rifted and so white that a chip of it will hardly show on the snow, but +as unprofitable food for fires as the poplars beside it, which, in the +yellow-green of youth or the furrowed gray of age, have shivered their +last. + +Still higher in the woodpile are white birches, yet in the smooth skin +of their prime, which is fit to be fashioned into drinking cups and +berry baskets, or to furnish a page for my lady's album. Here are +hardhacks, some with grain winding like the grooves of a rifle. This is +the timber the Indians made their bows of, and which now serves the same +purpose for the young savages whom we have always with us. There are +sinewy blue beeches, slowly grown up from ox-goads and the "beech seals" +of Ethan Allen's Green Mountain Boys to the girth of a man's thigh, a +size at which they mostly stop growing. A smaller trunk, like yet unlike +them, sets folks to guessing what kind of wood it is. He will hit the +mark who fires at random the names "shadblow," "service-berry," or +"amelanchier." If the axe had been merciful, in early May its branches +would have been as white with blossoms as if the last April snow still +clung to them. Tossed on a-top of all is a jumbled thatch of small +stuff,--saplings improvidently cut, short-lived striped maple, and +dogwood, the slender topmost lengths of great trees, once the perches of +hawks and crows, and such large branches as were not too crooked to lie +still on the sled. + +The snow-fleas, harbingers and attendants of thaws, are making the snow +in the woods gray with their restless myriads, when the sled makes its +last trip across the slushy fields, which are fast turning from white to +dun under the March winds and showers and sunshine. + +The completed woodpile basks in the growing warmth, as responsive to the +touch of spring as if every trunk yet upheld its branches in the forest. +The buds swell on every chance-spared twig, and sap starts from the +severed ducts. From the pine drip slowly lengthening stalactites of +amber, from the hickory thick beads of honeydew, and from the maples a +flow of sweet that calls the bees from their hives across the melting +drifts. Their busy hum makes an island of summer sound in the midst of +the silent ebbing tide of winter. + +As the days grow warmer, the woodpile invites idlers as well as busy +bees and wood-cutters. The big logs are comfortable seats to lounge on +while whittling a pine chip, and breathing the mingled odors of the +many woods freshly cut and the indescribable woodsy smell brought home +in the bark and moss, and listening to the hum of the bees and harsher +music of the saws and axe, the sharp, quick swish of the whip-saw, the +longer drawn and deeper ring of the crosscut, and the regular beat of +the axe,--fiddle, bass-viol, and drum, each with its own time, but all +somehow in tune. The parts stop a little when the fiddler saws off his +string, the two drawers of the long bass-viol bow sever theirs, and the +drummer splits his drum, but each is soon outfitted again, and the +funeral march of the woodpile goes on. Here is the most delightful of +places for those busy idlers the children, for it is full of pioneers' +and hunters' cabins, robbers' caves and bears' dens, and of treasures of +moss and gum and birch, and of punk, the tinder of the Indians and our +forefathers, now gone out of use except for some conservative Canuck to +light his pipe or for boys to touch off their small ordnance. + +It is a pretty sight to watch the nuthatches and titmice searching the +grooves of the bark for their slender fare, or a woodpecker chopping +his best for a living with his sharp-pointed axe, all having followed +their rightful possessions from the woods, taking perhaps the track of +the sled. It is wonderful to hear the auger of the pine-borer, now +thawed into life, crunching its unseen way through the wood. Then there +is always the chance of the axe unlocking the stores of deermice, quarts +of beechnuts with all the shells neatly peeled off; and what if it +should happen to open a wild-bee hive full of honey! + +If the man comes who made the round of the barns in the fall and early +winter with his threshing-machine, having exchanged it for a sawing +machine, he makes short work of our woodpile. A day or two of stumbling +clatter of the horses in their treadmill, and the buzzing and screeching +of the whirling saw, gnaws it into a heap of blocks. + +Our lounging-place and the children's wooden playground have gone, and +all the picturesqueness and woodsiness have disappeared as completely as +when splitting has made only firewood of the pile. It will give warmth +and comfort from the stove, but in that black sepulchre all its beauty +is swallowed out of sight forever. If it can go to a generous fireplace, +it is beautified again in the glowing and fading embers that paint +innumerable shifting pictures, while the leaping flames sing the old +song of the wind in the branches. + + + + +L + +A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION + + +It seems quite probable that this nineteenth century may be unpleasantly +memorable in centuries to come as that in which many species of animate +and inanimate nature became extinct. It has witnessed the extinction of +the great auk, so utterly swept off the face of the earth that the skin, +or even the egg of one, is a small fortune to the possessor. Reduced +from the hundreds of thousands of twenty-five years ago to the few +hundred of to-day, it needs but a few years to compass the complete +annihilation of the bison. It is not improbable that the elk and the +antelope will be overtaken by almost as swift a fate. The skin hunters, +and the game butchers miscalled sportsmen, are making almost as speedy +way with them as they have with the buffalo. + +The common deer, hedged within their narrowing ranges by civilization, +and hunted by all methods in all seasons, may outlast the century, but +they will have become wofully scarce at the close of it, even in such +regions as the Adirondacks which seem to have been set apart by nature +especially for the preservation of wild life. + +The wild turkey is passing away, and it is a question of but few years +when he shall have departed forever. In some localities the next noblest +of our game birds, the ruffed grouse, has become almost a thing of the +past, and in some years is everywhere so scarce that there are sad +forebodings of his complete disappearance from the rugged hills of which +he seems as much a belonging as the lichened rocks, the arbutus and the +wind-swept evergreens. One little island on the New England coast holds +the handful that is left of the race of heath hens. + +The woodcock is being cultivated and improved and murdered out of +existence with clearing and draining and summer shooting, and +unseasonable shooting is doing the same for many kinds of waterfowl. In +the Eastern States a wild pigeon is a rare sight now, and has been for +years; the netters and slaughterers have done their work too thoroughly. + +Gentle woman is making an end of the song-birds that she may trick her +headgear in barbaric and truly savage fashion. The brighter plumaged +small birds are becoming noticeably scarce even in those parts of the +country that the milliners' collector and the pot-naturalist have not +yet invaded, and such as the scarlet tanager, never anywhere numerous, +are like to be soon "collected" out of living existence. If they are to +be saved, it is by no dallying, nor slow awakening of popular feeling in +their behalf. + +There will be pine-trees, no doubt, for centuries to come, but who that +live twenty years hence will see one of these venerable monarchs of the +woods towering above all other forest growth, or see any ancient tree, +however historic or precious for its age and beauty and majesty and +mystery of long past years, if it is worth the cutting for timber or +fuel? + +Even the lesser growths of the old woods are passing away. Some, as the +carpeting sphagnum and the sprawling hobble bush, disappear through +changed conditions; others, as the medicinal spikenard, sarsaparilla, +and ginseng, and the decorative running pine and the arbutus, through +ruthless, greedy gathering, which leaves no root nor ripened seed to +perpetuate their kind. + +An old man may be glad that his eyes are not to behold the coming +desolation, but he must be sad when he thinks of the poor inheritance of +his children. + + + + +LI + +THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS + + +From the sowing and planting of his seed, almost indeed from the turning +of the furrow, the farmer enters upon a contest with the weeds, for a +place in which his crops may grow, and if he or the crops are not +vanquished, as the weeds never are, the warfare continues till harvest +time. + +While he, with infinite labor, prepares the ground and sows his seed +with all care, praying that drouth may not wither nor floods drown it, +and that frosts may not cut down the tender plants, the winds of heaven +and the fowls of the air scatter broadcast the seeds of the noxious +weeds, or these lie dormant in the ground awaiting opportunity. They +germinate in sterile places, fence corners and nooks of the wayside, and +flourish alike in scorching sunshine and in sodden soil. + +Weeds defy the latest and the earliest frosts, grow with their roots in +the air; and cut down, spring up, grow on, blossoming and ripening their +seed in creeping stealth and ever unscathed by blight; and so flourish +in spite of all unkindliness of man or stress of nature, that the +husbandman wishes that they might by some freak of demand become the +useful plants, his present crop the undesired ones. + +Somewhat the same position in which weeds stand opposed to the plants +which the husbandman depends upon for his livelihood, vermin hold toward +the beasts and birds upon which the sportsman depends for his +recreation. While they whose protection men endeavor to maintain during +the season of procreation, and at times when scarcity of food prevails, +decrease often to complete extinction, the vermin, whom the hand of man +is always against, continue to increase and multiply, or at least hold +their own. With them as with the weeds nature seems to deal with a +kinder hand. She spares and nourishes them, while she destroys their +betters. + +The snow crust, which walls the quail in a living tomb, makes a royal +banqueting hall for the pestiferous field mice, where they feast and +revel in plenty, secure from all their enemies, feathered or furred. It +impounds the deer, but gives free range to the wolf and to his as +pitiless two-legged brother, the crust hunter. + +The wet seasons that drown the callow woodcock and grouse work no harm +to the ravenous brood of the hawk and owl, nor to the litter of fox, +mink, or weasel. Wet or dry, hot or cold, the year fosters them +throughout its varied round. + +Winged ticks kill the grouse, but the owl endures their companionship +with sedate serenity and thrives with a swarm of the parasites in the +covert of his feathers. + +The skunk has always been killed on sight as a pest that the world would +be the sweeter for being rid of. In later years the warfare against him +has received an impetus from the value of his fur, but though this has +gone on relentlessly for many years, his tribe still live to load the +air with a fragrance that incites the ambitious trapper to further +conquest. + +All the year round, farmers and their boys wage war upon the crows, but +each returning autumn sees the columns of the black army moving +southward with apparently unthinned ranks, while, year by year, the +harried platoons of ducks and geese return fewer and less frequent. +Those detested foreigners, the English sparrows, increase and multiply +in spite of bitter winters and righteous persecution, while our natives, +the beloved song-birds, diminish in numbers. On every hand we find the +undesirable in animated nature, the birds and beasts that we would +gladly be rid of, maintaining their numbers, while those whose increase +we desire are losing ground and tending toward extinction. + +The prospect for the sportsman of the future is indeed gloomy, unless he +shall make game of the pests and become a hunter of skunks and a shooter +of crows and sparrows. Who can say that a hundred years hence the +leading sportsmen of the period will not be wrangling over the points +and merits of their skunk and woodchuck dogs and bragging of their bags +of crows and sparrows? + + + + +LII + +THE WEASEL + + +A chain that is blown away by the wind and melted by the sun, links with +pairs of parallel dots the gaps of farm fences, and winds through and +along walls and zigzag lines of rails, is likely to be the most visible +sign that you will find in winter of one bold and persistent little +hunter's presence. + +Still less likely are you to be aware of it in summer or fall, even by +such traces of his passage, for he is in league with nature to keep his +secrets. When every foot of his outdoor wandering must be recorded she +makes him as white as the snow whereon it is imprinted, save his beady +eyes and dark tail-tip. When summer is green and autumn gay or sad of +hue she clothes him in the brown wherewith she makes so many of her wild +children inconspicuous. + +Yet you may see him, now and then, in his white suit or in his brown, +gliding with lithe, almost snake-like movement along the lower fence +rails, going forth hunting or bearing home his game, a bird or a fat +field-mouse. In a cranny of an old lichen-scaled stone wall you may see +his bright eyes gleaming out of the darkness, like dewdrops caught in a +spider's web, and then the brown head thrust cautiously forth to peer +curiously at you. Then he may favor you with the exhibition of an +acrobatic feat: his hinder paws being on the ground in the position of +standing, he twists his slender body so that his forepaws are placed in +just the reverse position on the stone or rail above him, and he looks +upward and backward. + +He may be induced to favor you with intimate and familiar acquaintance, +to take bits of meat from your hand and even to climb to your lap and +search your pockets and suffer you to lay a gentle hand upon him, but he +has sharp teeth wherewith to resent too great liberties. + +While he may be almost a pet of a household and quite a welcome visitor +of rat-infested premises, he becomes one of the worst enemies of the +poultry-wife when he is tempted to fall upon her broods of chicks. He +seems possessed of a murderous frenzy, and slays as ruthlessly and +needlessly as a wolf or a human game-butcher or the insatiate angler. +Neither is he the friend of the sportsman, for he makes havoc among the +young grouse and quail and the callow woodcock. + +The trapper reviles him when he finds him in his mink trap, for all the +beauty of his ermine a worthless prize drawn in this chanceful lottery. +When every one carried his money in a purse, the weasel's slender white +skin was in favor with country folk. This use survives only in the +command or exhortation to "draw your weasel." When the purse was empty, +it gave the spendthrift an untimely hint by creeping out of his pocket. +In the primest condition of his fur he neither keeps nor puts money in +your pocket now. He is worth more to look at, with his lithe body quick +with life, than to possess in death. + + + + +LIII + +FEBRUARY DAYS + + +In the blur of storm or under clear skies, the span of daylight +stretches farther from the fading dusk of dawn to the thickening dusk of +evening. Now in the silent downfall of snow, now in the drift and whirl +of flakes driven from the sky and tossed from the earth by the shrieking +wind, the day's passage is unmarked by shadows. It is but a long +twilight, coming upon the world out of one misty gloom, and going from +it into another. Now the stars fade and vanish in the yellow morning +sky, the long shadows of the hills, clear cut on the shining fields, +swing slowly northward and draw eastward to the netted umbrage of the +wood. So the dazzling day grows and wanes and the attenuated shadows are +again stretched to their utmost, then dissolved in the flood of shade, +and the pursued sunlight takes flight from the mountain peaks to the +clouds, from cloud to cloud along the darkening sky, and vanishes beyond +the blue barrier of the horizon. + +There are days of perfect calm and hours of stillness as of sleep, when +the lightest wisp of cloud fleece hangs moveless against the sky and the +pine-trees forget their song. But for the white columns of smoke that, +unbent in the still air, arise from farmstead chimneys, one might +imagine that all affairs of life had been laid aside; for no other sign +of them is visible, no sound of them falls upon the ear. You see the +cows and sheep in the sheltered barnyards and their lazy breaths arising +in little clouds, but no voice of theirs drifts to you. + +No laden team crawls creaking along the highway nor merry jangle of +sleigh bells flying into and out of hearing over its smooth course, nor +for a space do the tireless panting engine and roaring train divide +earth and sky with a wedge of dissolving vapor. The broad expanse of the +lake is a white plain of snow-covered ice: no dash of angry waves +assails its shore still glittering with the trophies of their last +assault; no glimmer of bright waters greets the sun; no keel is afloat; +the lighthouse, its occupation gone, stares day and night with dull eyes +from its lonely rock, upon a silent deserted waste. + +In the wood you may hear no sound but your own muffled footsteps, the +crackle of dry twigs, and the soft swish of boughs swinging back from +your passage, and now and then a tree punctuating the silence with a +clear resonant crack of frozen fibres and its faint echo. You hear no +bird nor squirrel nor sound of woodman's axe, nor do you catch the +pungent fragrance of his fire nor the subtler one of fresh-cut wood. +Indeed, all odors of the forest seem frozen out of the air or locked up +in their sources. No perfume drops from the odor-laden evergreens, only +scentless air reaches your nostrils. + +One day there comes from the south a warm breath, and with it fleets of +white clouds sailing across the blue upper deep, outstripped by their +swifter shadows sweeping in blue squadrons along the glistening fields +and darkening with brief passage the gray woodlands. Faster come the +clouds out of the south and out of the west, till they crowd the sky, +only fragments of its intense azure showing here and there between them, +only now and then a gleam of sunlight flashing across the earth. Then +the blue sunlit sky is quite shut away behind a low arch of gray, +darkening at the horizon with thick watery clouds, and beneath it all +the expanse of fields and forest lies in universal shadow. + +The south wind is warmer than yesterday's sunshine, the snow softens +till your footsteps are sharply moulded as in wax, and in a little space +each imprint is flecked thick with restless, swarming myriads of +snow-fleas. Rain begins to fall softly on snow-covered roofs, but +beating the panes with the familiar patter of summer showers. It becomes +a steady downpour that continues till the saturated snow can hold no +more, and the hidden brooks begin to show in yellow streaks between +white, unstable shores, and glide with a swift whisking rush over the +smooth bottom that paves their rough natural bed; and as their yellow +currents deepen and divide more widely their banks, the noise of their +onflow fills the air like an exaggeration of the murmur of pines, and +the song of the pines swells and falls with the varying wind. + +After the rain there come, perhaps, some hours of quiet sunshine or +starlight, and then out of the north a nipping wind that hardens the +surface of the snow into solid crust that delights your feet to walk +upon. The rivulets shrink out of sight again, leaving no trace but +water-worn furrows in the snow, some frozen fluffs of yellow foam and +stranded leaves and twigs, grass and broken weeds. The broad pools have +left their shells of unsupported ice, which with frequent sudden crashes +shatters down upon their hollow beds. + +When the crust has invited you forth, you cannot retrace your way upon +it, and the wild snow walkers make no record now of their recent +wanderings. But of those who fared abroad before this solid pavement was +laid upon the snow, fabulous tales are now inscribed upon it. Reading +them without question, you might believe that the well-tamed country +had lapsed into the possession of its ancient savage tenants, for the +track of the fox is as big as a wolf's, the raccoon's as large as a +bear's, the house cat's as broad as the panther's, and those of the +muskrat and mink persuade you to believe that the beaver and otter, +departed a hundred years ago, have come to their own again. Till the +next thaw or snowfall, they are set as indelibly as primeval footprints +in the rocks, and for any scent that tickles the hounds' keen nose, +might be as old. He sniffs them curiously and contemptuously passes on, +yet finds little more promising on footing that retains but for an +instant the subtle trace of reynard's unmarked passage. + +The delicate curves and circles that the bent weeds etched on the soft +snow are widened and deepened in rigid grooves, wherein the point that +the fingers of the wind traced them with is frozen fast. Far and wide +from where they fall, all manner of seeds drift across miles of smooth +fields, to spring to life and bloom, by and by, in strange, +unaccustomed places, and brown leaves voyage to where their like was +never grown. The icy knolls shine in the sunlight with dazzling +splendor, like golden islands in a white sea that the north wind stirs +not, and athwart it the low sun and the waning moon cast their long +unrippled glades of gold and silver. Over all winter again holds sway, +but we have once more heard the sound of rain and running brooks and +have been given a promise of spring. + + + + +LIV + +THE FOX + + +Among the few survivals of the old untamed world there are left us two +that retain all the raciness of their ancestral wildness. + +Their wits have been sharpened by the attrition of civilization, but it +has not smoothed their characteristics down to the level of the +commonplace, nor contaminated them with acquired vices as it has their +ancient contemporary, the Indian. But they are held in widely different +esteem, for while the partridge is in a manner encouraged in +continuance, the fox is an outlaw, with a price set upon his head to +tempt all but his few contemned friends to compass his extermination. + +For these and for him there is an unwritten code that, stealthily +enforced, gives him some exemption from universal persecution. They, +having knowledge of the underground house of many portals where the +vixen rears her cubs, guard the secret as jealously as she and her lord, +from the unfriendly farmer, poultry-wife, and bounty-hunting vagabond, +confiding it only to sworn brethren of woodcraft, as silent concerning +it to the unfriendly as the trees that shadow its booty-strewn precincts +or the lichened rocks that fortify it against pick and spade. They never +tell even their leashed hounds till autumn makes the woods gayer with +painted leaves than summer could with blossoms, how they have seen the +master and mistress of this woodland home stealing to it with a fare of +field mice fringing their jaws or bearing a stolen lamb or pullet. + +They watch from some unseen vantage, with amused kindliness, the gambols +of the yellow cubs about their mother, alert for danger, even in her +drowsy weariness, and proud of her impish brood, even now practicing +tricks of theft and cunning on each other. They become abetters of this +family's sins, apologists for its crimes, magnifiers of its unmeant +well-doing. + +When in palliation of the slaughter of a turkey that has robbed a field +of his weight in corn they offset the destruction of hordes of field +mice, they are reviled by those who are righteously exalted above the +idleness of hunting and the foolishness of sentiment. + +At such hands one fares no better who covets the fox, not for the sport +he may give, but for the tang of wild flavor that he imparts to woods +that have almost lost it and to fields that lose nothing of thrift by +its touch. + +You may not see him, but it is good to know that anything so untamed has +been so recently where your plodding footsteps go. You see in last +night's snowfall the sharp imprint of his pads, where he has deviously +quested mice under the mat of aftermath, or trotted slowly, pondering, +to other more promising fields, or there gone airily coursing away over +the moonlit pastures. In imagination you see all his agile gaits and +graceful poses. Now listening with pricked ears to the muffled squeak of +a mouse, now pouncing upon his captured but yet unseen prize, or where +on sudden impulse he has coursed to fresh fields, you see him, a dusky +phantom, gliding with graceful undulations of lithe body and brush over +the snowy stretches; or, halting to wistfully sniff, as a wolf a +sheepfold, the distant henroost; or, where a curious labyrinth of tracks +imprint the snow, you have a vision of him dallying with his tawny +sweetheart under the stars of February skies; or, by this soft mould of +his furry form on a snow-capped stump or boulder, you picture him +sleeping off the fatigue of hunting and love-making, with all senses but +sight still alert, unharmed by the nipping air that silvers his whiskers +with his own breath. + +All these realities of his actual life you may not see except in such +pictures as your fancy makes; but when the woods are many-hued or brown +in autumn, or gray and white in winter, and stirred with the wild music +of the hounds, your blood may be set tingling by the sight of him, his +coming announced by the rustle of leaves under his light footfalls. +Perhaps unheralded by sound, he suddenly blooms ruddily out of the dead +whiteness of the snow. + +Whether he flies past or carefully picks his way along a fallen tree or +bare ledge, you remark his facial expression of incessant intentness on +cunning devices, while ears, eyes, and nose are alert for danger. If he +discovers you, with what ready self-possession he instantly gets and +keeps a tree between himself and you and vanishes while your gun vainly +searches for its opportunity. If your shot brings him down, and you +stand over him exultant, yet pitying the end of his wild life, even in +his death throes fearing you no more, he yet strains his dulled ears to +catch the voices of the relentless hounds. + +Bravely the wild freebooter holds his own against the encroachments of +civilization and the persecution of mankind, levying on the flocks and +broods of his enemy, rearing his yellow cubs in the very border of his +field, insulting him with nightly passage by his threshold. + +Long ago his fathers bade farewell to their grim cousin the wolf, and +saw the beaver and the timid deer pass away, and he sees the eagle +almost banished from its double realm of earth and sky, yet he hardily +endures. For what he preserves for us of the almost extinct wildness, +shall we begrudge him the meagre compensation of an occasional turkey? + + + + +LV + +AN ICE-STORM + + +Of all the vagaries of winter weather, one of the rarest is the +ice-storm; rain falling with a wind and from a quarter that should bring +snow, and freezing as it falls, not penetrating the snow but coating it +with a shining armor, sheathing every branch and twig in crystal and +fringing eaves with icicles of most fantastic shapes. + +On ice-clad roofs and fields and crackling trees the rain still beats +with a leaden clatter, unlike any other sound of rain; unlike the +rebounding pelting of hail or the swish of wind-blown snow. + +The trees begin to stoop under their increasing burden, and then to +crack and groan as it is laid still heavier upon them. At times is heard +the thin, echoless crash of an overladen branch, first bending to its +downfall with a gathering crackle of severed fibres, then with a sudden +crash, shattering in a thousand fragments the brief adornments that have +wrought its destruction. + +Every kind of tree has as marked individuality in its icy garniture as +in its summer foliage. The gracefulness of the elms, the maples, the +birches, the beeches, and the hornbeams is preserved and even +intensified; the clumsy ramage of the butternut and ash is as stiff as +ever, though every unbending twig bears its row of glittering pendants. +The hemlocks and firs are tents of ice, but the pines are still pines, +with every needle exaggerated in bristling crystal. + +Some worthless things have become of present value, as the wayside +thistles and the bejeweled grass of an unshorn meadow, that yesterday +with its dun unsightliness, rustling above the snow, proclaimed the +shiftlessness of its owner. + +Things most unpicturesque are made beautiful. The wire of the telegraph +with its dull undulations is transformed to festoons of crystal fringe, +linking together shining pillars of glass that yesterday were but bare, +unsightly posts. + +The woods are a maze of fantastic shapes of tree growth. Wood roads are +barricaded with low arches of ice that the hare and the fox can barely +find passage beneath, and with long, curved slants of great limbs bent +to the earth. The wild vines are turned to ropes and cables of ice, and +have dragged down their strong supports, about whose prostrate trunks +and limbs they writhe in a tangle of rigid coils. The lithe trunks of +second growth are looped in an intricate confusion of arches one upon +another, many upon one, over whole acres of low-roofed forest floor. + +The hare and the grouse cower in these tents of ice, frightened and +hungry; for every sprout and bud is sheathed in adamant, and scarlet +berries, magnified and unattainable, glow in the heart of crystal +globules. Even the brave chickadees are appalled, and the disheartened +woodpecker mopes beside the dead trunk, behind whose impenetrable shield +he can hear the grub boring in safety. + +Through the frozen brambles that lattice the doorway of his burrow the +fox peers dismayed upon a glassy surface that will hold no scent of +quarry, yet perhaps is comforted that the same conditions impose a +truce upon his enemies the hounds. The squirrel sits fasting in his +chamber, longing for the stores that are locked from their owner in his +cellar. It is the dismalest of all storms for the wood folk, despite all +the splendor wherewith it adorns their realm. + +One holds out his hand and lifts his face skyward to assure himself that +the rain has ceased, for there is a continual clattering patter as if it +were yet falling. But it is only the crackling of the icy trees and the +incessant dropping of small fragments of their burden. + +The gray curtain of the sky drifts asunder, and the low sun shines +through. It glorifies the earth with the flash and gleam of ten million +diamonds set everywhere. The fire and color of every gem that was ever +delved burn along the borders of the golden pathway that stretches from +your feet far away to the silver portals of the mountains that bar our +glittering world from the flaming sky. + +The pallid gloom of the winter night falls upon the earth. Then the full +moon throbs up behind the scintillating barrier of the hills. She +presently paves from herself to us a street of silver among the long +blue shadows, and lights it with a thousand stars; some fallen quite to +earth, some twinkling among the drooping branches, all as bright as the +eternal stars that shine in the blue sky above. + + + + +LVI + +SPARE THE TREES + + +All the protection that the law can give will not prevent the game +naturally belonging to a wooded country from leaving it when it is +deforested, nor keep fish in waters that have shrunk to a quarter of +their ordinary volume before midsummer. The streams of such a country +will thus shrink when the mountains, where the snows lie latest and the +feeding springs are, and the swamps, which dole out their slow but +steady tribute, are bereft of shade. The thin soil of a rocky hill, when +deprived of its shelter of branches, will be burned by the summer sun +out of all power to help the germination of any worthy seed, or to +nurture so noble a plant as a tree through the tender days of its +infancy. It supports only useless weeds and brambles. Once so denuded, +it will be unsightly and unprofitable for many years if not always. +Some swamps at great expense may be brought into tillage and meadow, but +nine times out of ten, when cleared of the lusty growth of woods, they +bear nothing but wild grass, and the streams that trickled from them all +the summer long in their days of wildness show in August only the +parched trail of the spring course. + +Our natives have inherited their ancestors' hatred of trees, which to +them were only cumberers of the ground, to be got rid of by the +speediest means; and our foreign-born landholders, being unused to so +much woodland, think there can be no end to it, let them slash away as +they will. + +Ledges and steep slopes that can bear nothing but wood to any profit, +are shorn of their last tree, and the margins of streams to the very +edge robbed of the willows and water-maples that shaded the water and +with their roots protected the banks from washing. Who has not known a +little alder swamp, in which he was sure to find a dozen woodcock, when +he visited it on the first day of the season each year? Some year the +first day comes and he seeks it as usual, to find its place marked only +by brush heaps, stubs, and sedges; and for the brook that wimpled +through it in the days of yore, only stagnant pools. The worst of it is, +the owners can seldom give any reason for this slaughter but that their +victims were trees and bushes. + +The Yankee, with his proverbial thriftiness and forecast, appears +entirely to lose these gifts when it comes to the proper and sensible +management of woodlands. Can he not understand that it is more +profitable to keep a lean or thin soil that will grow nothing well but +wood, growing wood instead of worthless weeds? The crop is one which is +slow in coming to the harvest, but it is a sure one, and is every year +becoming a more valuable one. It breaks the fierceness of the winds, and +keeps the springs from drying up, and is a comfort to the eye, whether +in the greenness of the leaf or the barrenness of the bough, and under +its protecting arms live and breed the grouse, the quail and the hare, +and in its shadowed rills swim the trout. + + + + +LVII + +THE CHICKADEE + + +The way to the woods is blurred with a mist of driven snow that veils +the portal of the forest with its upblown curtain, and blots out all +paths, and gives to the familiar landmarks a ghostly unreality. The +quietude of the woods is disturbed by turbulent voices, the angry roar +and shriek of the wind, the groaning and clashing of writhing, tormented +trees. Over all, the sunned but unwarmed sky bends its blue arch, as +cold as the snowy fields and woods beneath it. + +In such wild weather you are not tempted far abroad in quest of old +acquaintances of fields and woods, yet from the inhospitable woods some +of them come to you. Among them all, none is more welcome than that +feathered atom of life, the chickadee. With the same blithe note that +welcomed you to his woodland haunts in spring, in summer, and in +autumn, when he attended you with such charming familiarity, amusing you +with pretty acrobatic feats, as he flitted now before, now beside, now +above you, he hails you now, and asks that hospitality be extended to +him. + +Set forth a feast of suet on the window-sill, and he will need no +bidding to come and partake of it. How daintily he helps himself to the +tiniest morsels, never cramming his bill with gross mouthfuls as do his +comrades at the board, the nuthatch and the downy woodpecker! They, like +unbidden guests, doubtful of welcome or of sufferance even, make the +most of time that may prove all too brief, and gorge themselves as +greedily as hungry tramps; while he, unscared by your face at the +window, tarries at his repast, pecking his crumbs with leisurely +satisfaction. You half expect to see him swept from your sight like a +thistledown by the gusty blast, but he holds bravely to his perch, +unruffled in spirit if not in feathers, and defies his fierce assailant +with his oft-repeated challenge. + +As often as you spread the simple feast for him he will come and sit at +your board, a confiding guest, well assured of welcome, and will repay +you with an example of cheerful life in the midst of dreariness and +desolation. In the still, bright days, his cheery voice rings through +the frosty air, and when the thick veil of the snow falls in a wavering +slant from the low sky its muffled cadence still heartens you. + +What an intense spark of vitality must it be that warms such a mite in +such an immensity of cold; that floats his little life in this deluge of +frigid air, and keeps him in song while we are dumb with shivering! If +our huge hulks were endowed with proportionate vitality, how easily we +might solve the mysteries of the frozen north! + +On some February day, when the first promise of spring is drifted to you +in the soft south wind, the tenderness of spring is voiced in his +love-note, brief but full of melody, and sweet as the evening song of +the wood pewee. When the spring songsters come, he takes leave of you. +He has seen you safely through the winter, and departs to the woods on +affairs of his own. He is no longer a vagrant, but at home in his own +greenwood, yet as unfretted by the cares of housekeeping as he was by +the heavy weariness of winter. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In New England Fields and Woods, by +Rowland E. 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Robinson. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + } + + #booktitle { + letter-spacing:3px; + } + + .cen, + .center, + .centered { + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + } + + div.center, + div.centered { + text-align:center; + } + + div.centered table { + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + text-align:left; + } + + div.inset14 { + margin-top:1em; + margin-bottom:1em; + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + width:14em; + text-indent:0; + } + + .figcenter { + padding:1em; + text-align:center; + font-size:0.8em; + border:none; + margin:0; + text-indent:1em; + margin:auto; + } + + .h1 { + font-size:2em; + margin:.67em 0; + } + + .h1, + .h2, + .h3, + .h4 { + font-weight:bolder; + text-align:center; + text-indent:0; + } + + h1, + h2, + h3, + h4, + hr { + text-align:center; + } + + .h2 { + font-size:1.5em; + margin:.75em 0; + } + + .h3 { + font-size:1.17em; + margin:.83em 0; + } + + .h4 { + margin:1.12em 0 ; + } + + hr.chapter { + margin-top:6em; + margin-bottom:4em; + } + + hr.tb { + margin:2em 25%; + width:50%; + } + + hr.thin { + margin-right:47%; + margin-left:47%; + margin-top:0%; + margin-bottom:0%; + width:6%; + } + + .noin { + text-indent:0; + } + + p { + text-align:justify; + margin-top:.5em; + margin-bottom:.5em; + text-indent:0; + } + + p.author { + text-align:right; + margin-right:10%; + } + + p.caption { + text-indent:0; + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + margin-bottom:2em; + } + + p.spacer { + margin-top:2em; + margin-bottom:3em; + } + + p.tb { + margin-top:2em; + } + + .pagenum { +/* visibility:hidden; remove comment out to hide page numbers */ + position:absolute; + right:2%; + font-size:75%; + color:gray; + background-color:inherit; + text-align:right; + text-indent:0; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; + font-variant:normal; + } + + .sc, + .smcap { + font-variant:small-caps; + } + + .tdl { + text-align:left; + } + + .tdr { + text-align:right; + padding-right:1em; + } + + .topbox { + margin-left:25%; + margin-right:25%; + margin-top:5%; + margin-bottom:5%; + padding:1em; + color:black; + border:2px solid black; + } + + </style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's In New England Fields and Woods, by Rowland E. Robinson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In New England Fields and Woods + +Author: Rowland E. Robinson + +Release Date: July 25, 2011 [EBook #36844] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div> + +<br> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="372" height="600" alt="Cover" title="Cover"> +</div> + +<p class="caption">In New England Fields And Woods</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="topbox"> +<p class="h3">By Rowland E. Robinson</p> +<hr class="thin"> +<p class="noin">OUT OF BONDAGE. 16mo, $1.25. +<br> +IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS. 16mo, $1.25. +<br> +DANVIS FOLKS. A Novel. 16mo. $1.25. +<br> +UNCLE 'LISHA'S OUTING. 16mo, $1.25. +<br> +A DANVIS PIONEER. 16mo, $1.25. +<br> +SAM LOVEL'S BOY. 16mo, $1.25. +<br> +VERMONT: A Study of Independence. In American<br>Commonwealths Series. With Map. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25. +<br> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, +<br> +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York.</span> +</p> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<h1 id="booktitle">In New England Fields and Woods</h1> + +<p class="h3">By +<br> +Rowland E. Robinson</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/decoration1.jpg" width="150" height="191" alt="deco1" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h4"><i>Boston and New York</i> +<br> +Houghton, Mifflin and Company +<br> +The Riverside Press, Cambridge</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h4">Copyright, 1896, +<br> +<span class="smcap">By</span> ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. +<br> +<br> +<i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h4">TO</p> + +<p class="h4">THE MEMORY OF</p> + +<p class="h3">MY MOTHER</p> + +<p class="h4">THIS BOOK</p> + +<p class="h4">IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 16px;"> +<img src="images/decoration2.jpg" width="16" height="21" alt="deco2" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p>The weather and the changes of the seasons +are such common and convenient topics +that one need not apologize for talking about +them, though he says nothing new.</p> + +<p>Still less need one make an apology if +he becomes garrulous in relation to scenes +which are now hidden from him by a curtain +of darkness, or concerning some humble +acquaintances with whom he was once on +familiar terms, but who now and hereafter +can only be memories, though they are yet +near him and he may still hear their voices.</p> + +<p>So without excuse I offer this collection +of sketches, which with a few exceptions +were first published in the columns of "Forest +and Stream."</p> + +<p class="author">R. E. R.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[vii]</span></p> + +<p class="h3">CONTENTS</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents" width="70%"> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">I.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#I"><span class="smcap">The Nameless Season</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#II"><span class="smcap">March Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">5</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#III"><span class="smcap">The Home Fireside</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">13</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#IV"><span class="smcap">The Crow</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">17</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#V"><span class="smcap">The Mink</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">22</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#VI"><span class="smcap">April Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">27</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#VII"><span class="smcap">The Woodchuck</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">33</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#VIII"><span class="smcap">The Chipmunk</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">37</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#IX"><span class="smcap">Spring Shooting</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">40</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#X"><span class="smcap">The Garter-Snake</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">43</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XI"><span class="smcap">The Toad</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">48</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XII"><span class="smcap">May Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">52</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XIII"><span class="smcap">The Bobolink</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">56</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XIV"><span class="smcap">The Golden-Winged Woodpecker</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">59</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XV"><span class="smcap">June Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">63</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XVI"><span class="smcap">The Bullfrog</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">66</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XVII"><span class="smcap">The Angler</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">70</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XVIII"><span class="smcap">Farmers and Field Sports</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">79</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XIX"><span class="smcap">To a Trespass Sign</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XX"><span class="smcap">A Gentle Sportsman</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">88</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXI"><span class="smcap">July Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">91</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXII"><span class="smcap">Camping Out</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">98</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXIII"><span class="smcap">The Camp-Fire</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">103</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXIV"><span class="smcap">A Rainy Day in Camp</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">107</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXV"><span class="smcap">August Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">113</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXVI"><span class="smcap">A Voyage in the Dark</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">118</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXVII"><span class="smcap">The Summer Camp-Fire</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">129</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXVIII"><span class="smcap">The Raccoon</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">132</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXIX"><span class="smcap">The Reluctant Camp-Fire</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">141</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr"><span class="pagenum">[viii]</span>XXX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXX"><span class="smcap">September Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">143</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXI"><span class="smcap">A Plea for the Unprotected</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">148</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXII"><span class="smcap">The Skunk</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">154</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXIII"><span class="smcap">A Camp-Fire Run Wild</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">158</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXIV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXIV"><span class="smcap">The Dead Camp-Fire</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">163</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXV"><span class="smcap">October Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">168</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXVI"><span class="smcap">A Common Experience</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">172</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXVII"><span class="smcap">The Red Squirrel</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">178</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXVIII"><span class="smcap">The Ruffed Grouse</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">182</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXIX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XXXIX"><span class="smcap">Two Shots</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">189</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XL.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XL"><span class="smcap">November Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">196</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLI"><span class="smcap">The Muskrat</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">201</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLII"><span class="smcap">November Voices</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">205</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLIII"><span class="smcap">Thanksgiving</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">208</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLIV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLIV"><span class="smcap">December Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">211</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLV"><span class="smcap">Winter Voices</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">216</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLVI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLVI"><span class="smcap">The Varying Hare</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">219</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLVII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLVII"><span class="smcap">The Winter Camp-Fire</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">224</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLVIII"><span class="smcap">January Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">229</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XLIX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#XLIX"><span class="smcap">A New England Woodpile</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">235</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">L.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#L"><span class="smcap">A Century of Extermination</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">251</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LI"><span class="smcap">The Persistency of Pests</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">255</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LII"><span class="smcap">The Weasel</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">260</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LIII"><span class="smcap">February Days</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">263</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LIV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LIV"><span class="smcap">The Fox</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">270</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LV"><span class="smcap">An Ice-Storm</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">276</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LVI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LVI"><span class="smcap">Spare the Trees</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">281</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">LVII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#LVII"><span class="smcap">The Chickadee</span></a></td> + <td class="tdr">284</td> + </tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<p class="h1">IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE NAMELESS SEASON</p> + +<p>In the March page of our almanac, opposite +the 20th of the month we find the +bold assertion, "Now spring begins;" +but in the northern part of New England, +for which this almanac was especially +compiled, the weather does not bear out +the statement.</p> + +<p>The snow may be gone from the fields +except in grimy drifts, in hollows and along +fences and woodsides; but there is scarcely +a sign of spring in the nakedness of pasture, +meadow, and ploughed land, now +more dreary in the dun desolation of lifeless +grass, débris of stacks, and black furrows +than when the first snow covered the +lingering greenness of December.<span class="pagenum">[2]</span></p> + +<p>It is quite as likely that the open lands +are still under the worn and dusty blanket +of snow, smirched with all the litter cast +upon it by cross-lot-faring teams, and wintry +winds blowing for months from every +quarter. The same untidiness pervades +all outdoors. We could never believe that +so many odds and ends could have been +thrown out of doors helter-skelter, in +three months of ordinary life, till the +proof confronts us on the surface of the +subsiding snow or lies stranded on the +bare earth. The wind comes with an +icier breath from the wintrier north, and +yet blows untempered from the south, +over fields by turns frozen and sodden, +through which the swollen brooks rush in +yellow torrents with sullen monotonous +complaint.</p> + +<p>One may get more comfort in the woods, +though the snow still lies deep in their +shelter; for here may be found the sugar-maker's +camp, with its mixed odors of +pungent smoke and saccharine steam, its +wide environment of dripping spouts and +tinkling tin buckets, signs that at last the +pulse of the trees is stirred by a subtle +promise of returning spring.<span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p> + +<p>The coarse-grained snow is strewn +thickly with shards of bark that the trees +have sloughed in their long hibernation, +with shreds and tatters of their tempest-torn +branches. But all this litter does +not offend the eye nor look out of place, +like that which is scattered in fields and +about homesteads. When this three +months' downfall of fragments sinks to +the carpet of flattened leaves, it will be +at one with it, an inwoven pattern, as +comely as the shifting mesh of browner +shadows that trunks and branches weave +between the splashes of sunshine. Among +these is a garnishment of green moss +patches and fronds of perennial ferns +which tell of life that the stress of winter +could not overcome. One may discover, +amid the purple lobes of the squirrelcup +leaves, downy buds that promise +blossoms, and others, callower, but of like +promise, under the rusty links of the arbutus +chain.</p> + +<p>One hears the resonant call of a woodpecker +rattled out on a seasoned branch +or hollow stub, and may catch the muffled +beat of the partridge's drum, silent since +the dreamy days of Indian summer, now<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> +throbbing again in slow and accelerated +pulsations of evasive sound through the +unroofed arches of the woodlands. And +one may hear, wondering where the poor +vagrants find food and water, the wild +clangor of the geese trumpeting their +aerial northward march, and the quick +whistle of the wild duck's pinions,—hear +the carol of an untimely bluebird and the +disconsolate yelp of a robin; but yet it is +not spring.</p> + +<p>Presently comes a great downfall of +snow, making the earth beautiful again +with a whiteness outshining that of the +winter that is past. The damp flakes +cling to every surface, and clothe wall, +fence and tree, field and forest, with a +more radiant mantle than the dusty snow +and slanted sunshine of winter gave them.</p> + +<p>There is nothing hopeful of spring but +a few meagre signs, and the tradition that +spring has always come heretofore.</p> + +<p>It is not winter, it is not spring, but a +season with an individuality as marked as +either, yet without a name.<span class="pagenum">[5]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<p class="caption">MARCH DAYS</p> + +<p>Back and forth across the land, in +swift and sudden alternation, the March +winds toss days of bitter cold and days of +genial warmth, now out of the eternal +winter of the north, now from the endless +summer of the tropics.</p> + +<p>Repeated thawing and freezing has +given the snow a coarse grain. It is like +a mass of fine hailstones and with no +hint of the soft and feathery flakes that +wavered down like white blossoms shed +from the unseen bloom of some far-off +upper world and that silently transformed +the unseemliness of the black and tawny +earth into the beauty of immaculate purity.</p> + +<p>One day, when the wind breathes from +the south a continuous breath of warmth, +your feet sink into this later coarseness +come of its base earthly association, with +a grinding slump, as in loose wet sand, so<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> +deep, perhaps, that your tracks are gray +puddles, marking your toilsome way.</p> + +<p>As you wallow on, or perch for a moment's +rest on a naked fence-top among +the smirched drifts, you envy the crows +faring so easily along their aerial paths +above you. How pleasant are the voices +of these returning exiles, not enemies +now, but friendly messengers, bringing +tidings of spring. You do not begrudge +them the meagre feasts they find, the +frozen apple still hanging, brown and +wrinkled, in the bare orchard, or the winter-killed +youngling of flock or herd, cast +forth upon a dunghill, and which discovered, +one generous vagabond calls all his +black comrades to partake of.</p> + +<p>Watching them as they lag across the +sky, yet swifter than the white clouds +drift above them, you presently note that +these stand still, as you may verify by +their blue shadows on the snow, lying +motionless, with the palpitating shadows +of the crows plunging into them on this +side, then, lost for an instant in the blue +obscurity, then, emerging on that side +with the same untiring beat of shadowy +wings. A puff of wind comes out of the<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> +north, followed by an angry gust, and +then a howling wintry blast that the +crows stagger against in labored flight as +they make for the shelter of the woods.</p> + +<p>You, too, toil to shelter and fireside +warmth, and are thankful to be out of the +biting wind and the treacherous footing. +The change has come so suddenly that +the moist, grainy snow is frozen before it +has time to leach, and in a little while +gives you a surface most delightful to +walk upon, and shortens distances to half +what they were. It has lost its first pure +whiteness wherewith no other whiteness +can compare, but it is yet beyond all +things else, and in the sunlight dazzles +you with a broad glare and innumerable +scintillating points of light, as intense as +the sun itself.</p> + +<p>The sunshine, the bracing air, the +swaying boughs of the pines and hemlocks +beckoning at the woodside, and the +firm smooth footing, irresistibly invite +you forth. Your feet devour the way +with crisp bites, and you think that nothing +could be more pleasant to them till +you are offered a few yards of turf, laid +bare by winds and sun, and then you realize<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> +that nothing is quite so good as the +old stand-by, a naked ground, and crave +more of it, even as this is, and hunger +for it with its later garnishing of grass +and flowers. The crows, too, are drawn +to these bare patches and are busy upon +them, and you wonder what they can find; +spiders, perhaps, for these you may see +in thawy days crawling sluggishly over +the snow, where they must have come +from the earth.</p> + +<p>The woods are astir with more life than +a month ago. The squirrels are busy and +noisy, the chickadees throng about you, +sometimes singing their sweet brief song +of three notes; the nuthatches pipe their +tiny trumpets in full orchestra, and the +jays are clamoring their ordinary familiar +cries with occasional notes that you do +not often hear. One of these is a soft, +rapidly uttered cluck, the bird all the time +dancing with his body, but not with his +feet, to his own music, which is pleasant +to the ear, especially when you remember +it is a jay's music, which in the main cannot +be recommended. To-day, doubtless, +he is practicing the allurements of the +mating season.<span class="pagenum">[9]</span></p> + +<p>You hear the loud cackle of a logcock +making the daily round of his preserves, +but you are not likely to get more than a +glimpse of his black plumage or a gleam +of his blood-red crest.</p> + +<p>By rare luck you may hear the little +Acadian owl filing his invisible saw, but +you are likelier to see him and mistake +him for a clot of last year's leaves lodged +midway in their fall to earth.</p> + +<p>The forest floor, barred and netted with +blue shadows of trunks and branches, is +strewn with dry twigs, evergreen leaves, +shards of bark, and shreds of tree-moss +and lichen, with heaps of cone scales,—the +squirrel's kitchen middens,—the +sign of a partridge's nightly roosting, +similar traces of the hare's moonlight +wanderings, and perhaps a fluff of his +white fur, showing where his journeys +have ended forever in a fox's maw.</p> + +<p>Here and there the top of a cradle +knoll crops out of the snow with its +patches of green moss, sturdy upright +stems and leaves and red berries of wintergreen, +as fresh as when the first snow +covered them, a rusty trail of mayflower +leaves, and the flat-pressed purple lobes<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> +of squirrelcup with a downy heart of +buds full of the promise of spring.</p> + +<p>The woods are filled with a certain +subtle scent quite distinct from the very +apparent resinous and balsamic aroma of +the evergreens, that eludes description, +but as a kind of freshness that tickles the +nose with longing for a more generous +waft of it. You can trace it to no source, +as you can the odors of the pine and the +hemlocks or the sweet fragrance of the +boiling sap, coming from the sugar-maker's +camp with a pungent mixture of +wood-smoke. You are also made aware +that the skunk has been abroad, that +reynard is somewhere to windward, and +by an undescribed, generally unrecognized, +pungency in the air that a gray +squirrel lives in your neighborhood. Yet +among all these more potent odors you +still discover this subtle exhalation, perhaps +of the earth filtered upward through +the snow, perhaps the first awakening +breath of all the deciduous trees.</p> + +<p>Warmer shines the sun and warmer +blows the wind from southern seas and +southern lands. More and more the<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> +tawny earth comes in sight among puddles +of melted snow, which bring the mirrored +sky and its fleecy flocks of clouds, +with treetops turned topsy-turvy, down +into the bounds of fields. The brooks +are alive again and babbling noisily over +their pebbled beds, and the lake, hearing +them, groans and cries for deliverance +from its prison of ice.</p> + +<p>On the marshes you may find the ice +shrunken from the shores and an intervening +strip of water where the muskrat +may see the sun and the stars again. +You hear the trumpets of the wild geese +and see the gray battalion riding northward +on the swift wind.</p> + +<p>The sun and the south wind, which +perhaps bears some faint breath of stolen +fragrance from far-off violet banks, tempt +forth the bees, but they find no flowers +yet, not even a squirrelcup or willow catkin, +and can only make the most of the +fresh sawdust by the wood-pile and the +sappy ends of maple logs.</p> + +<p>Down from the sky, whose livery he +wears and whose song he sings, comes +the heavenly carol of the bluebird; the<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> +song sparrow trills his cheery melody; +the first robin is announced to-day, and +we cry, "Lo, spring has come." But to-morrow +may come winter and longer +waiting.<span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE HOME FIRESIDE</p> + +<p>Weeks ago the camp-fire shed its last +glow in the deserted camp, its last thin +thread of smoke was spun out and vanished +in the silent air, and black brands +and gray ashes were covered in the even +whiteness of the snow. The unscared +fox prowls above them in curious exploration +of the desolate shanty, where +wood-mice are domiciled and to whose +sunny side the partridge comes to bask; +the woodpecker taps unbidden to enter +or departs from the always open door; +and under the stars that glitter through +the net of branches the owl perches on +the snowy ridge and mopes in undisturbed +solemnity.</p> + +<p>For a time, camping-days are over +for the sportsman, and continue only for +the lumberman, the trapper, and the +merciless crust-hunter, who makes his +secret lair in the depths of the forest.<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> +In the chill days and evenings that fall +first in the interim between winter and +summer camping, the man who makes +his outings for sport and pleasure must +content himself by his own fireside, +whose constant flame burns throughout +the year.</p> + +<p>Well may he be content when the untempered +winds of March howl like a +legion of wolves at his door, snow and +sleet pelt roof and pane with a continuous +volley from the lowering sky, or +when the chilly silence of the last winter +nights is broken by the sharp crack +of frozen trees and timbers, as if a hidden +band of riflemen were besieging +the house. Well may he be content, +then, with the snug corner of his own +hearthstone, around which are gathered +the good wife, the children, and his camp +companions, the dogs.</p> + +<p>Better than the camp, is this cosy comfort +in days and nights such as these, or +in those that fall within that unnamed +season that lies between winter and +spring, when, if one stirs abroad, his feet +have sorry choice between saturated +snow and oozy mould,—a dismal season<span class="pagenum">[15]</span> +but for its promise of brighter days, of +free streams, green trees, and bird songs.</p> + +<p>Better, now, this genial glow that +warms one's marrow than the camp-fire +that smokes or roasts one's front while +his back freezes. With what perfect +contentment one mends his tackle and +cleans his gun for coming days of sport, +while the good wife reads racy records +of camp-life from Maine to California, +and he listens with attention half diverted +by break or rust spot, or with +amused watching of the youngsters playing +at camping out. The callow campers +assail him with demands for stories, and +he goes over, for their and his own enjoyment, +old experiences in camp and +field, while the dogs dream by the fire +of sport past or to come,—for none but +dogs know whether dog's dreams run +backward or forward.</p> + +<p>Long-used rod and gun suggest many +a tale of past adventure as they bring to +mind recollections of days of sport such +as may never come again. The great +logs in the fireplace might tell, if their +flaming tongues were given speech, of +camps made long ago beneath their lusty<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> +branches, and of such noble game as we +shall never see,—moose, elk, deer, panther, +wolf, and bear, which are but spectres +in the shadowy forest of the past. +But the red tongues only roar and hiss +as they lick the crackling sinews of oak +and hickory, and tell nothing that ordinary +ears may catch. Yet one is apt to +fall dreaming of bygone days, and then +of days that may come to be spent by +pleasant summer waters and in the woods +gorgeous with the ripeness of autumn.</p> + +<p>So one is like to dream till he awakens +and finds himself left with only the dogs +for comrades, before the flameless embers, +deserted even by the shadows that +erstwhile played their grotesque pranks +behind him. Cover the coals as if they +were to kindle to-morrow's camp-fire, put +the yawning dogs to bed, and then to +bed and further dreaming.<span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE CROW</p> + +<p>The robin's impatient yelp not yet attuned +to happy song, the song sparrow's +trill, the bluebird's serene melody, do +not herald the coming of spring, but attend +its vanguard. These blithe musicians +accompany the soft air that bares +the fields, empurples the buds, and fans +the bloom of the first squirrelcups and +sets the hyla's shrill chime a-ringing.</p> + +<p>Preceding these, while the fields are +yet an unbroken whiteness and the coping +of the drifts maintain the fantastic +grace of their storm-built shapes, before +a recognized waft of spring is felt or the +voice of a freed stream is heard, comes +that sable pursuivant, the crow, fighting +his way against the fierce north wind, +tossed alow and aloft, buffeted to this +side and that, yet staggering bravely onward, +and sounding his trumpet in the +face of his raging antagonist, and far in<span class="pagenum">[18]</span> +advance of its banners, proclaiming +spring.</p> + +<p>It is the first audible promise of the +longed-for season, and it heartens us, +though there be weary days of waiting +for its fulfillment, while the bold herald +is beset by storm and pinched with hunger +as he holds his outpost and gleans +his scant rations in the winter-desolated +land.</p> + +<p>He finds some friendliness in nature +even now. Though her forces assail him +with relentless fury, she gives him here +the shelter of her evergreen tents, in +windless depths of woodland; bares for +him there a rood of sward or stubble +whereon to find some crumb of comfort; +leaves for him ungathered apples on the +naked boughs, and on the unpruned +tangles of vines wild grapes,—poor +raisins of the frost,—the remnants of +autumnal feasts of the robins and partridges.</p> + +<p>Thankful now for such meagre fare +and eager for the fullness of disgusting +repasts, in the bounty of other seasons, +he becomes an epicure whom only the +choicest food will satisfy. He has the<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> +pick of the fattest grubs; he makes +stealthy levies on the earliest robins' +nests; and from some lofty lookout or +aerial scout watches the farmer plant +the corn and awaits its sprouting into +the dainty tidbits, a fondness for whose +sweetness is his overmastering weakness. +For this he braves the terrible scarecrow +and the dread mystery of the cornfield's +lined boundary, for this risks life and +forfeits the good name that his better +deeds might give him. If he would not +be tempted from grubs and carrion, what +a worthy bird he might be accounted. +In what good if humble repute might he +live, how lamented, die. O Appetite! +thou base belly-denned demon, for what +sins of birds and men art thou accountable!</p> + +<p>In the springtide days, the crow turns +aside from theft and robbery to the +softer game of love, whereunto you hear +the harsh voice attuned in cluttering +notes. After the wooing the pair begin +house building and keeping.</p> + +<p>It is the rudest and clumsiest of all +bird architecture that has become the +centre of their cares—such a jumble of<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> +sticks and twigs as chance might pile on +its forked foundations; but woe betide +the hawk who ventures near, or owl who +dares to sound his hollow trumpet in +the sacred precincts. At the first alarm +signal, as suddenly and mysteriously as +Robin Hood's merry men appeared at +the winding of his horn, the black clansmen +rally from every quarter of the +greenwood, to assail the intruder and +force him to ignominious retreat.</p> + +<p>When at last the young crows, having +clad their uncouth nakedness with full +sable raiment, are abroad in the world, +they, with unwary foolhardiness and incessant +querulous cries of hunger or +alarm, are still a constant source of anxiety +to parents and kindred. But in +the late summer, when the youngsters +have come to months of discretion and +the elders are freed from the bondage +of their care, a long holiday begins for +all the tribe. The corn has long since +ceased to tempt them, and the persecution +of man has abated. The shorn +meadows and the close-cropped pastures +swarm with grasshoppers, and field and +forest offer their abundant fruits.<span class="pagenum">[21]</span></p> + +<p>Careless and uncared for, what happy +lives they lead, sauntering on sagging +wing through the sunshine from chosen +field to chosen wood, and at nightfall +encamping in the fragrant tents of the +pines.</p> + +<p>At last the gay banners of autumn +signal departure, and the gathered clans +file away in straggling columns, flecking +the blue sky with pulsating dots of blackness, +the green earth with wavering +shadows. Sadly we watch the retreat of +the sable cohorts, whose desertion leaves +our northern homes to the desolation of +winter.<span class="pagenum">[22]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE MINK</p> + +<p>This little fur-bearer, whose color has +been painted darker than it is, singularly +making his name proverbial for blackness, +is an old acquaintance of the angler +and the sportsman, but not so familiar +to them and the country boy as it was +twoscore years ago.</p> + +<p>It was a woeful day for the tribe of +the mink when it became the fashion for +other folk to wear his coat, which he +could only doff with the subtler garment +of life.</p> + +<p>Throughout the term of his exaltation +to the favor of fashion, he was lain +in wait for at his own door and on his +thoroughfares and by-paths by the traps, +dead-falls, and guns of professional and +amateur trappers and hunters, till the +fate of his greater cousin the otter +seemed to overtake him. But the fickle +empress who raised him to such perilous<span class="pagenum">[23]</span> +estate, changing her mood, thrust him +down almost to his old ignoble but safer +rank, just in time to avert the impending +doom of extermination. Once more the +places that knew him of old, know him +again.</p> + +<p>In the March snow you may trace the +long span of his parallel footprints where, +hot with the rekindled annual fire of love, +he has sped on his errant wooing, turning +not aside for the most tempting bait, +halting not for rest, hungering only for +a sweetheart, wearied with nothing but +loneliness. Yet weary enough would +you be if you attempted to follow the +track of but one night's wandering along +the winding brook, through the tangle +of windfalls, and across the rugged ledges +that part stream from stream. When +you go fishing in the first days of summer, +you may see the fruits of this early +springtide wooing in the dusky brood +taking their primer-lesson in the art that +their primogenitors were adepts in before +yours learned it. How proud one +baby fisher is of his first captured minnow, +how he gloats over it and defends<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> +his prize from his envious and less fortunate +brothers.</p> + +<p>When summer wanes, they will be a +scattered family, each member shifting +for himself. Some still haunt the alder +thicket where they first saw light, whose +netted shadows of bare branches have +thickened about them to continued +shade of leafage, in whose midday twilight +the red flame of the cardinal flower +burns as a beacon set to guide the dusky +wanderer home. Others have adventured +far down the winding brook to +the river, and followed its slowing current, +past rapids and cataract, to where +it crawls through the green level of +marshes beloved of water fowl and of +gunners, whose wounded victims, escaping +them, fall an easy prey to the lurking +mink.</p> + +<p>Here, too, in their season are the +tender ducklings of wood duck, teal, and +dusky duck, and, all the year round, fat +muskrats, which furnish for the price of +conquest a banquet that the mink most +delights in.</p> + +<p>In the wooded border are homes ready +builded for him under the buttressed<span class="pagenum">[25]</span> +trunks of elms, or in the hollow boles of +old water maples, and hidden pathways +through fallen trees and under low green +arches of ferns.</p> + +<p>With such a home and such bountiful +provision for his larder close at hand, +what more could the heart and stomach +of mink desire? Yet he may not be satisfied, +but longs for the wider waters of +the lake, whose translucent depths reveal +to him all who swim beneath him, fry innumerable; +perch displaying their scales +of gold, shiners like silver arrows shot +through the green water, the lesser bass +peering out of rocky fastnesses, all attainable +to this daring fisher, but not his +great rivals, the bronze-mailed bass and +the mottled pike, whose jaws are wide +enough to engulf even him.</p> + +<p>Here, while you rest on your idle oar +or lounge with useless rod, you may see +him gliding behind the tangled net of +cedar roots, or venturing forth from a +cranny of the rocks down to the brink, +and launching himself so silently that +you doubt whether it is not a flitting +shadow till you see his noiseless wake<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> +breaking the reflections lengthening out +behind him.</p> + +<p>Of all swimmers that breathe the free +air none can compare with him in swiftness +and in a grace that is the smooth +and even flow of the poetry of motion. +Now he dives, or rather vanishes from +the surface, nor reappears till his wake +has almost flickered out.</p> + +<p>His voyage accomplished, he at once +sets forth on exploration of new shores +or progress through his established domain, +and vanishes from sight before +his first wet footprints have dried on the +warm rock where he landed.</p> + +<p>You are glad to have seen him, thankful +that he lives, and you hope that, +sparing your chickens and your share of +trout, partridges, and wild ducks, he too +may be spared from the devices of the +trapper to fill his appointed place in the +world's wildness.<span class="pagenum">[27]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<p class="caption">APRIL DAYS</p> + +<p>At last there is full and complete assurance +of spring, in spite of the baldness +of the woods, the barrenness of +the fields, bleak with sodden furrows of +last year's ploughing, or pallidly tawny +with bleached grass, and untidy with the +jetsam of winter storms and the wide +strewn litter of farms in months of foddering +and wood-hauling.</p> + +<p>There is full assurance of spring in +such incongruities as a phœbe a-perch +on a brown mullein stalk in the midst of +grimy snow banks, and therefrom swooping +in airy loops of flight upon the flies +that buzz across this begrimed remnant +of winter's ermine, and of squirrelcups +flaunting bloom and fragrance in the face +of an ice cascade, which, with all its glitter +gone, hangs in dull whiteness down +the ledges, greening the moss with the +moisture of its wasting sheet of pearl.<span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p> + +<p>The woodchuck and chipmunk have +got on top of the world again. You +hear the half querulous, half chuckling +whistle of the one, the full-mouthed persistent +cluck of the other, voicing recognition +of the season.</p> + +<p>The song of the brooks has abated +something of its first triumphant swell, +and is often overborne now by the jubilant +chorus of the birds, the jangled, +liquid gurgle and raucous grating of the +blackbirds, the robin's joyous song with +its frequent breaks, as if the thronging +notes outran utterance, the too brief +sweetness of the meadowlark's whistle, +the bluebird's carol, the cheery call of +the phœbe, the trill of the song sparrow, +and above them all the triumph of the +hawk in its regained possessions of northern +sky and earth.</p> + +<p>The woods throb with the muffled +beat of the partridge's drum and the +sharp tattoo of the woodpecker, and are +filled again with the sounds of insect +life, the spasmodic hum of flies, the +droning monotone of bees busy among +the catkins and squirrelcups, and you +may see a butterfly, wavering among the<span class="pagenum">[29]</span> +gray trees, soon to come to the end of +his life, brief at its longest, drowned in +the seductive sweets of a sap bucket.</p> + +<p>The squirrels are chattering over the +wine of the maple branches they have +broached, in merrier mood than the +hare, who limps over the matted leaves +in the raggedness of shifting raiment, +fitting himself to a new inconspicuousness.</p> + +<p>We shall not find it unpleasant nor +unprofitable to take to the woods now, +for we may be sure that they are pleasanter +than the untidy fields. Where +nature has her own way with herself, she +makes her garb seemly even now, after +all the tousling and rents she gave it in +her angry winter moods. The scraps of +moss, bark, and twigs with which the +last surface of the snow was obtrusively +littered lie now unnoticed on the flat-pressed +leaves, an umber carpet dotted +here with flecks of moss, there sprigged +with fronds of evergreen fern, purple +leaves of squirrelcups, with their downy +buds and first blossoms. Between banks +so clad the brook babbles as joyously as +amid all the bloom and leafage of June,<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> +and catches a brighter gleam from the +unobstructed sunbeams. So befittingly +are the trees arrayed in graceful tracery +of spray and beads of purpling buds, +that their seemly nakedness is as beautiful +as attire of summer's greenness +or autumn's gorgeousness could make +them.</p> + +<p>Never sweeter than now, after the +long silence of winter, do the birds' +songs sound, and never in all the round +of the year is there a better time to see +them than when the gray haze of the +branches is the only hiding for their gay +wedding garments.</p> + +<p>If you would try your skill at still-hunting, +follow up that muffled roll that +throbs through the woods, and if you +discover the ruffed grouse strutting upon +his favorite log, and undiscovered by +him can watch his proud performance, +you will have done something better +worth boasting of than bringing him to +earth from his hurtling flight.</p> + +<p>Out of the distant fields come, sweet +and faint, the call of the meadowlark +and the gurgle of the blackbirds that +throng the brookside elms. From high<span class="pagenum">[31]</span> +overhead come down the clarion note of +the goose, the sibilant beat of the wild +ducks' wings, the bleat of the snipe and +the plover's cry, each making his way to +northern breeding grounds. Are you not +glad they are going as safely as their uncaught +shadows that sweep swiftly across +the shadowy meshes of the forest floor? +Are you not content to see what you see, +hear what you hear, and kill nothing but +time?</p> + +<p>Verily, you shall have a clearer conscience +than if you were disturbing the +voice of nature with the discordant uproar +of your gun, and marring the fresh +odors of spring with the fumes of villainous +saltpetre.</p> + +<p>In the open marshes the lodges of the +muskrats have gone adrift in the floods; +but the unhoused inmates count this a +light misfortune, since they may voyage +again with heads above water, and go +mate-seeking and food-gathering in sunshine +and starlight, undimmed by roof +of ice. As you see them cutting the +smooth surface with long, swift, arrowy +wakes, coasting the low shore in quest of +brown sweethearts and wives, whimpering<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> +their plaintive call, you can hardly +imagine the clumsy body between that +grim head and rudder-like tail capable +of such graceful motion.</p> + +<p>The painted wood drake swims above +the submerged tree roots; a pair of dusky +ducks splash to flight, with a raucous +clamor, out of a sedgy cove at your approach; +the thronging blackbirds shower +liquid melody and hail of discord from +the purple-budded maples above you. +All around, from the drift of floating and +stranded water weeds, arises the dry, +crackling croak of frogs, and from sunny +pools the vibrant trill of toads.</p> + +<p>From afar come the watery boom of a +bittern, the song of a trapper and the +hollow clang of his setting pole dropping +athwart the gunwales of his craft, the +distant roar of a gun and the echoes +rebounding from shore to shore.</p> + +<p>The grateful odor of the warming +earth comes to your nostrils; to your +ears, from every side, the sounds of +spring; and yet you listen for fuller confirmation +of its presence in the long-drawn +wail of the plover and the rollicking +melody of the bobolink.<span class="pagenum">[33]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE WOODCHUCK</p> + +<p>Chancing to pass a besmirched April +snowbank on the border of a hollow, you +see it marked with the footprints of an +old acquaintance of whom for months +you have not seen even so much as this.</p> + +<p>It is not that he made an autumnal +pilgrimage, slowly following the swift +birds and the retreating sun, that you +had no knowledge of him, but because of +his home-keeping, closer than a hermit's +seclusion. These few cautious steps, +venturing but half way from his door to +the tawny naked grass that is daily edging +nearer to his threshold, are the first +he has taken abroad since the last bright +lingering leaf fluttered down in the Indian +summer haze, or perhaps since the +leaves put on their first autumnal tints.</p> + +<p>He had seen all the best of the year, +the blooming of the first flowers, the +springing of the grass and its growth,<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> +the gathering of the harvests and the +ripening of fruits, and possibly the gorgeousness +of autumn melting into sombre +gray. He had heard all the glad songs +of all the birds and the sad notes of farewell +of bobolink and plover to their summer +home; he had seen the swallows +depart and had heard the droning of the +bumblebee among the earliest and latest +of his own clover blossoms. All the +best the world had to give in the round +of her seasons, luxuriant growth to feed +upon, warm sunshine to bask in, he had +enjoyed; of her worst, he would have none.</p> + +<p>So he bade farewell to the gathering +desolation of the tawny fields and crept +closer to the earth's warm heart to sleep +through the long night of winter, till the +morning of spring. The wild scurry of +wind-tossed leaves swept above him unheard, +and the pitiless beat of autumnal +rain and the raging of winter storms that +heaped the drifts deeper and deeper over +his forsaken door. The bitterness of +cold, that made the furred fox and the +muffled owl shiver, never touched him +in his warm nest. So he shirked the +hardships of winter without the toil of a<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> +journey in pursuit of summer, while the +starved fox prowled in the desolate woods +and barren fields, the owl hunted beneath +the cold stars, and the squirrel delved in +the snow for his meagre fare.</p> + +<p>By and by the ethereal but potent spirit +of spring stole in where the frost-elves +could not enter, and awakening the earth +awakened him. Not by a slow and often +impeded invasion of the senses, but as by +the sudden opening of a door, he sees the +naked earth again warming herself in the +sun, and hears running water and singing +birds. No wonder that with such surprise +the querulous tremolo of his whistle is +sharply mingled with these softer voices.</p> + +<p>Day by day as he sees the sun-loved +banks blushing greener, he ventures further +forth to visit neighbors or watch his +clover, or dig a new home in a more favored +bank, or fortify himself in some +rocky stronghold where boys and dogs +may not enter. Now, the family may +be seen moving, with no burden of furniture +or provision, but only the mother +with her gray cubs, carried as a cat carries +her kittens, one by one to the new +home among the fresher clover.<span class="pagenum">[36]</span></p> + +<p>On the mound of newly digged earth +before it, is that erect, motionless, gray +and russet form a half decayed stump +uprising where no tree has grown within +your memory? You move a little nearer +to inspect the strange anomaly, and lo! +it vanishes, and you know it was your +old acquaintance, the woodchuck, standing +guard at his door and overlooking +his green and blossoming domain.</p> + +<p>Are you not sorry, to-day at least, to +hear the boys and the dog besieging +him in his burrow or in the old stone +wall wherein he has taken sanctuary? +Surely, the first beautiful days of his +open-air life should not be made so miserable +that he would wish himself asleep +again in the safety and darkness of winter. +But you remember that you were +once a boy, and your sympathies are divided +between the young savages and +their intended prey, which after all is +likelier than not to escape.</p> + +<p>He will tangle the meadow-grass and +make free with the bean patch if he +chances upon it, yet you are glad to see +the woodchuck, rejoicing like yourself in +the advent of spring.<span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE CHIPMUNK</p> + +<p>As the woodchuck sleeps away the +bitterness of cold, so in his narrower +chamber sleeps the chipmunk. Happy +little hermit, lover of the sun, mate of +the song sparrow and the butterflies, +what a goodly and hopeful token of the +earth's renewed life is he, verifying the +promises of his own chalices, the squirrelcups, +set in the warmest corners of +the woodside, with libations of dew and +shower drops, of the bluebird's carol, the +sparrow's song of spring.</p> + +<p>Now he comes forth from his long +night into the fullness of sunlit day, to +proclaim his awakening to his summer +comrades, a gay recluse clad all in the +motley, a jester, maybe, yet no fool.</p> + +<p>His voice, for all its monotony, is +inspiring of gladness and contentment, +whether he utters his thin, sharp chip or +full-mouthed cluck, or laughs a chittering<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> +mockery as he scurries in at his narrow +door.</p> + +<p>He winds along his crooked pathway +of the fence rails and forages for half-forgotten +nuts in the familiar grounds, +brown with strewn leaves or dun with +dead grass. Sometimes he ventures to +the top rail and climbs to a giddy ten-foot +height on a tree, whence he looks +abroad, wondering, on the wide expanse +of an acre.</p> + +<p>Music hath charms for him, and you +may entrance him with a softly whistled +tune and entice him to frolic with a +herds-grass head gently moved before +him.</p> + +<p>When the fairies have made the white +curd of mallow blossoms into cheeses +for the children and the chipmunk, it +is a pretty sight to see him gathering +his share handily and toothily stripping +off the green covers, filling his cheek +pouches with the dainty disks and scampering +away to his cellar with his ungrudged +portion. Alack the day, when +the sweets of the sprouting corn tempt +him to turn rogue, for then he becomes +a banned outlaw, and the sudden thunder<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> +of the gun announces his tragic fate. +He keeps well the secret of constructing +his cunning house, without a show of +heaped or scattered soil at its entrance. +Bearing himself honestly, and escaping +his enemies, the cat, the hawk, and the +boy, he lives a long day of happy inoffensive +life. Then when the filmy curtain +of the Indian summer falls upon the +year again, he bids us a long good-night.<span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<p class="caption">SPRING SHOOTING</p> + +<p>The Ram makes way for the Bull; +March goes out and April comes in with +sunshine and showers, smiles and tears. +The sportsman has his gun in hand +again with deadly purpose, as the angler +his rod and tackle with another intention +than mere overhauling and putting +to rights. The smiles of April are for +them.</p> + +<p>The geese come wedging their way +northward; the ducks awaken the silent +marshes with the whistle of their pinions; +the snipe come in pairs and wisps +to the thawing bogs—all on their way +to breeding grounds and summer homes. +The tears of April are for them. Wherever +they stop for a day's or an hour's +rest, and a little food to strengthen and +hearten them for their long journey, the +deadly, frightful gun awaits to kill, maim, +or terrify, more merciless than all the<span class="pagenum">[41]</span> +ills that nature inflicts in her unkindest +moods.</p> + +<p>Year after year men go on making +laws and crying for more, to protect +these fowl in summer, but in spring, +when as much as ever they need protection, +the hand of man is ruthlessly +against them.</p> + +<p>When you made that splendid shot +last night in the latest gloaming that +would show you the sight of your gun, +and cut down that ancient goose, tougher +than the leather of your gun-case, and +almost as edible, of how many well-grown +young geese of next November did you +cheat yourself, or some one else of the +brotherhood?</p> + +<p>When from the puddle, where they +were bathing their tired wings, sipping +the nectar of muddy water, and nibbling +the budding leaves of water weeds, you +started that pair of ducks yesterday, and +were so proud of tumbling them down +right and left, you killed many more +than you saw then; many that you +might have seen next fall.</p> + +<p>When the sun was shining down so +warm upon the steaming earth that the<span class="pagenum">[42]</span> +robins and bluebirds sang May songs, +those were very good shots you made, +killing ten snipe straight and clean, and—they +were very bad shots. For in +November the ten might have been four +times ten fat and lusty, lazy fellows, +boring the oozy margins of these same +pools where the frogs are croaking and +the toads are singing to-day.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a long time to wait from +November till the earth ripens and +browns to autumn again. Life is short +and shooting days are few at most. Let +us shoot our goose while we may, though +she would lay a golden egg by and by."</p> + +<p>Farmers do not kill their breeding +ewes in March, nor butcher cows that +are to calve in a month; it does not pay. +Why should sportsmen be less provident +of the stock they prize so dearly; stock +that has so few care-takers, so many +enemies? Certainly, it does not pay in +the long run.<span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE GARTER-SNAKE</p> + +<p>When the returned crows have become +such familiar objects in the forlorn unclad +landscape of early spring that they +have worn out their first welcome, and +the earliest songbirds have come to stay +in spite of inhospitable weather that +seems for days to set the calendar back +a month, the woods invite you more than +the fields. There nature is least under +man's restraint and gives the first signs +of her reawakening. In windless nooks +the sun shines warmest between the +meshes of the slowly drifting net of +shadows.</p> + +<p>There are patches of moss on gray +rocks and tree trunks. Fairy islands of +it, that will not be greener when they are +wet with summer showers, arise among +the brown expanse of dead leaves. The +gray mist of branches and undergrowth is +enlivened with a tinge of purple. Here<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> +and there the tawny mat beneath is uplifted +by the struggling plant life below +it or pierced through by an underthrust +of a sprouting seed. There is a promise +of bloom in blushing arbutus buds, +a promise even now fulfilled by the first +squirrelcups just out of their furry bracts +and already calling the bees abroad. +Flies are buzzing to and fro in busy +idleness, and a cricket stirs the leaves +with a sudden spasm of movement. The +first of the seventeen butterflies that shall +give boys the freedom of bare feet goes +wavering past like a drifting blossom.</p> + +<p>A cradle knoll invites you to a seat on +the soft, warm cushion of dead leaves +and living moss and purple sprigs of +wintergreen with their blobs of scarlet +berries, which have grown redder and +plumper under every snow of the winter. +This smoothly rounded mound and the +hollow scooped beside it, brimful now of +amber, sun-warmed water, mark the ancient +place of a great tree that was dead +and buried, and all traces by which its +kind could be identified were mouldered +away and obliterated, before you were +born.<span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> + +<p>The incessant crackling purr of the +wood-frogs is interrupted at your approach, +and they disappear till the +wrinkled surface of the oblong pool +grows smooth again and you perceive +them sprawled along the bottom on the +leaf paving of their own color. As you +cast a casual glance on your prospective +seat, carelessly noting the mingling of +many hues, the brightness of the berries +seems most conspicuous, till a moving +curved and recurved gleam of gold on +black and a flickering flash of red catch +your eye and startle you with an involuntary +revulsion.</p> + +<p>With charmed eyes held by this new +object, you grope blindly for a stick or +stone. But, if you find either, forbear +to strike. Do not blot out one token of +spring's awakening nor destroy one life +that rejoices in it, even though it be so +humble a life as that of a poor garter-snake. +He is so harmless to man, that, +were it not for the old, unreasoning antipathy, +our hands would not be raised +against him; and, if he were not a snake, +we should call him beautiful in his stripes +of black and gold, and in graceful motion<span class="pagenum">[46]</span>—a +motion that charms us in the undulation +of waves, in their flickering reflections +of sunlight on rushy margins and +wooded shores, in the winding of a brook +through a meadow, in the flutter of a +pennant and the flaunting of a banner, +the ripple of wind-swept meadow and +grain field, and the sway of leafy boughs. +His colors are fresh and bright as ever +you will see them, though he has but to-day +awakened from a long sleep in continual +darkness.</p> + +<p>He is simply enjoying the free air and +warm sunshine without a thought of +food for all his months of fasting. Perhaps +he has forgotten that miserable necessity +of existence. When at last he +remembers that he has an appetite, you +can scarcely imagine that he can have +any pleasure in satisfying it with one +huge mouthful of twice or thrice the +ordinary diameter of his gullet. If you +chance to witness his slow and painful +gorging of a frog, you hear a cry of distress +that might be uttered with equal +cause by victim or devourer. When he +has fully entered upon the business of +reawakened life, many a young field-mouse<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> +and noxious insect will go into +his maw to his own and your benefit. +If there go also some eggs and callow +young of ground-nesting birds, why +should you question his right, you, who defer +slaughter out of pure selfishness, that +a little later you may make havoc among +the broods of woodcock and grouse?</p> + +<p>Of all living things, only man disturbs +the nicely adjusted balance of nature. +The more civilized he becomes the more +mischievous he is. The better he calls +himself, the worse he is. For uncounted +centuries the bison and the Indian +shared a continent, but in two hundred +years or so the white man has destroyed +the one and spoiled the other.</p> + +<p>Surely there is little harm in this +lowly bearer of a name honored in +knighthood, and the motto of the noble +order might be the legend written on +his gilded mail, "Evil to him who evil +thinks." If this sunny patch of earth is +not wide enough for you to share with +him, leave it to him and choose another +for yourself. The world is wide enough +for both to enjoy this season of its promise.<span class="pagenum">[48]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE TOAD</p> + +<p>During our summer acquaintance +with her, when we see her oftenest, a +valued inhabitant of our garden and a +welcome twilight visitor at our threshold, +we associate silence with the toad, almost +as intimately as with the proverbially +silent clam. In the drouthy or too moist +summer days and evenings, she never +awakens our hopes or fears with shrill +prophecies of rain as does her nimbler +and more aspiring cousin, the tree-toad.</p> + +<p>A rustle of the cucumber leaves that +embower her cool retreat, the spat and +shuffle of her short, awkward leaps, are +the only sounds that then betoken her +presence, and we listen in vain for even +a smack of pleasure or audible expression +of self-approval, when, after a nervous, +gratulatory wriggle of her hinder +toes, she dips forward and, with a lightning-like +out-flashing of her unerring<span class="pagenum">[49]</span> +tongue, she flicks into her jaws a fly or +bug. She only winks contentedly to +express complete satisfaction at her performance +and its result.</p> + +<p>Though summer's torrid heat cannot +warm her to any voice, springtime and +love make her tuneful, and every one +hears the softly trilled, monotonous song +jarring the mild air, but few know who +is the singer. The drumming grouse +is not shyer of exhibiting his performance.</p> + +<p>From a sun-warmed pool not fifty +yards away a full chorus of the rapidly +vibrant voices arises, and you imagine +that the performers are so absorbed with +their music that you may easily draw +near and observe them. But when you +come to the edge of the pool you see +only a half-dozen concentric circles of +wavelets, widening from central points, +where as many musicians have modestly +withdrawn beneath the transparent curtain.</p> + +<p>Wait, silent and motionless, and they +will reappear. A brown head is thrust +above the surface, and presently your +last summer's familiar of the garden<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> +and doorstep crawls slowly out upon a +barren islet of cobble-stone, and, assured +that no intruder is within the precincts +sacred to the wooing of the toads, she inflates +her throat and tunes up her long, +monotonous chant. Ere it ceases, another +and another take it up, and from +distant pools you hear it answered, till +all the air is softly shaken as if with +the clear chiming of a hundred swift-struck, +tiny bells. They ring in the returning +birds, robin, sparrow, finch and +meadow lark, and the first flowers, squirrelcup, +arbutus, bloodroot, adder-tongue +and moose-flower.</p> + +<p>When the bobolink has come to his +northern domain again and the oriole +flashes through the budding elms and +the first columbine droops over the gray +ledges, you may still hear an occasional +ringing of the toads, but a little later the +dignified and matronly female, having +lost her voice altogether, has returned +to her summer home, while her little +mate has exchanged his trill for a disagreeable +and uncanny squawk, perhaps +a challenge to his rivals, who linger<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> +about the scenes of their courtship and +make night hideous until midsummer. +Then a long silence falls on the race of +toads—a silence which even hibernation +scarcely deepens.<span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<p class="caption">MAY DAYS</p> + +<p>The lifeless dun of the close-cropped +southward slopes and the tawny tangles +of the swales are kindling to living green +with the blaze of the sun and the moist +tinder of the brook's overflow.</p> + +<p>The faithful swallows have returned, +though the faithless season delays. The +flicker flashes his golden shafts in the +sunlight and gladdens the ear with his +merry cackle. The upland plover wails +his greeting to the tussocked pastures, +where day and night rings the shrill +chorus of the hylas and the trill of the +toads continually trembles in the soft +air.</p> + +<p>The first comers of the birds are already +mated and nest-building, robin and +song sparrow each in his chosen place +setting the foundations of his house with +mud or threads of dry grass. The crow +clutters out his softest love note. The<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> +flicker is mining a fortress in the heart of +an old apple-tree.</p> + +<p>The squirrels wind a swift ruddy chain +about a boll in their love chase, and +even now you may surprise the vixen +fox watching the first gambols of her +tawny cubs by the sunny border of the +woods.</p> + +<p>The gray haze of undergrowth and +lofty ramage is turning to a misty green, +and the shadows of opening buds knot +the meshed shadows of twigs on the +brown forest floor, which is splashed with +white moose-flowers and buds of bloodroot, +like ivory-tipped arrows, each in a +green quiver, and yellow adder-tongues +bending above their mottled beds, and +rusty trails of arbutus leaves leading to +the secret of their hidden bloom, which +their fragrance half betrays.</p> + +<p>Marsh marigolds lengthen their golden +chain, link by link, along the ditches. +The maples are yellow with paler bloom, +and the graceful birches are bent with +their light burden of tassels. The dandelion +answers the sun, the violet the sky. +Blossom and greenness are everywhere; +even the brown paths of the plough<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> +and harrow are greening with springing +grain.</p> + +<p>We listen to the cuckoo's monotonous +flute among the white drifts of orchard +bloom and the incessant murmur of bees, +the oriole's half plaintive carol as of departed +joys in the elms, and the jubilant +song of the bobolink in the meadows, +where he is not an outlaw but a welcome +guest, mingling his glad notes with the +merry voices of flower-gathering children, +as by and by he will with the ringing cadence +of the scythe and the vibrant chirr +of the mower. Down by the flooded +marshes the scarlet of the water maples +and the flash of the starling's wing are +repeated in the broad mirror of the still +water. The turtle basks on the long incline +of stranded logs.</p> + +<p>Tally-sticks cast adrift are a symbol +that the trapper's warfare against the +muskrats is ended and that the decimated +remnant of the tribe is left in peace to +reëstablish itself. The spendthrift waste +of untimely shooting is stayed. Wild +duck, plover, and snipe have entered +upon the enjoyment of a summer truce +that will be unbroken, if the collector is<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> +not abroad at whose hands science ruthlessly +demands mating birds and callow +brood.</p> + +<p>Of all sportsmen only the angler, often +attended by his winged brother the +kingfisher, is astir, wandering by pleasant +waters where the bass lurks in the +tangles of an eddy's writhing currents, +or the perch poises and then glides +through the intangible golden meshes +that waves and sunlight knit, or where +the trout lies poised beneath the silver +domes of foam bells.</p> + +<p>The loon laughs again on the lake. +Again the freed waves toss the shadows +of the shores and the white reflections +of white sails, and flash back the sunlight +or the glitter of stars and the beacon's +rekindled gleam.</p> + +<p>Sun and sky, forest, field, and water, +bird and blossom, declare the fullness of +spring and the coming of summer.<span class="pagenum">[56]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE BOBOLINK</p> + +<p>The woods have changed from the +purple of swelling buds to the tender +grayish green of opening leaves, and the +sward is green again with new grass, +when this pied troubadour, more faithful +to the calendar than leaf or flower, comes +back from his southern home to New +England meadows to charm others than +his dusky ladylove with his merry song. +He seldom disappoints us by more than +a day in the date of his arrival, and never +fails to receive a kindly welcome, though +the fickle weather may be unkind.</p> + +<p>"The bobolinks have come" is as joyful +a proclamation as announces the return +of the bluebird and robin. Here no +shotted salute of gun awaits him, and he +is aware that he is in a friendly country. +Though he does not court familiarity, he +tolerates approach; and permits you to +come within a dozen yards of the fence<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> +stake he has alighted on, and when you +come nearer he goes but to the next, +singing the prelude or finale of his song +as he flies. Fewer yards above your +head he poises on wing to sing it from +beginning to end, you know not whether +with intent to taunt you or to charm you, +but he only accomplishes the latter. He +seems to know that he does not harm +us and that he brings nothing that we +should not lose by killing him. Yet +how cunningly he and his mate hide +their nest in the even expanse of grass. +That is a treasure he will not trust us +with the secret of, and, though there +may be a dozen in the meadow, we +rarely find one.</p> + +<p>Our New England fathers had as +kindly a feeling for this blithe comer to +their stumpy meadows, though they gave +him the uncouth and malodorous name +of skunk blackbird. He sang as sweetly +to them as he does to us, and he too was +a discoverer and a pioneer, finding and +occupying meadows full of sunshine +where had only been the continual shade +of the forest, where no bobolink had +ever been before. Now he has miles of<span class="pagenum">[58]</span> +grassy sunlit fields wherein he sings violet +and buttercup, daisy and clover into +bloom and strawberries into ripeness, +and his glad song mingles with the +happy voices of the children who come +to gather them, and also chimes with the +rarer music of the whetted scythe.</p> + +<p>Then, long before the summer is past, +he assumes the sober dress of his mate +and her monosyllabic note, and fades so +gradually out of our sight and hearing +that he departs without our being aware +of it. Summer still burns with unabated +fervor, when we suddenly realize that +there are no bobolinks. Nor are there +any under the less changeful skies +whither our changed bird has flown to +be a reed-bird or rice-bird and to find +mankind his enemies. He is no longer +a singer but a gourmand and valued only +as a choice morsel, doubtless delicious, +yet one that should choke a New Englander.<span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER</p> + +<p>The migrant woodpecker whose cheery +cackle assures us of the certainty of +spring is rich in names that well befit +him. If you take to high-sounding +titles for your humble friends, you will +accept <i>Colaptes auratus</i>, as he flies above +you, borrowing more gold of the sunbeams +that shine through his yellow +pinions, or will be content to call him +simply golden-winged. When he flashes +his wings in straight-away flight before +you, or sounds his sharp, single note of +alarm, or peers down from the door of +his lofty tower, or hangs on its wooden +wall, or clinging to a fence stake displays +his mottled back, you recognize the fitness +of each name the country folk have +given him—flicker, yellow-hammer, yarrup, +highhole or highholder, and what +Thoreau often termed him, partridge-woodpecker. +It is a wonder that the<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> +joyous cackle wherewith he announces +his return from his winter sojourn in the +South has not gained him another, and +that love note, so like the slow whetting +of a knife upon a steel, still another. +Perhaps it is because they are especially +sounds of spring and seldom if ever +heard after the season of joyful arrival +and love-making.</p> + +<p>During the same season you frequently +hear him attuning his harsh sharp voice +to its softest note of endearment, a long-drawn +and modulated variation of his +cackle. When household cares begin, +the lord and lady of the wooden tower, +like too many greater and wiser two-legged +folk, give over singing and soft +words. At home and abroad their deportment +is sober and business-like, and +except for an occasional alarm-cry they +are mostly silent.</p> + +<p>As you wander through the orchard +of an early midsummer day and pause +beside an old apple-tree to listen to the +cuckoo's flute or admire the airy fabric +of the wood pewee's nest, a larger scale +of lichen on the lichened boughs, you +hear a smothered vibrant murmur close<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> +beside you, as if the heart of the old tree +was pulsating with audible life. It is +startlingly suggestive of disturbed yellow-jackets, +but when you move around +the trunk in cautious reconnoissance, you +discover the round portal of a flicker's +home, and the sound resolves itself into +harmlessness. It is only the callow +young clamoring for food, or complaining +of their circumscribed quarters.</p> + +<p>Not many days hence they will be out +in the wide world of air and sunshine of +which they now know as little as when +they chipped the shell. Lusty fellows +they will be then, with much of their +parents' beauty already displayed in their +bright new plumage and capable of an +outcry that will hold a bird-eating cat +at bay. A little later they will be, as +their parents are, helpful allies against +the borers, the insidious enemies of our +apple-tree. It is a warfare which the +groundling habits of the golden-wings +make them more ready to engage in than +any other of the woodpecker clans.</p> + +<p>In sultry August weather, when the +shrill cry of the cicada pierces the hot +air like a hotter needle of sound, and the<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> +dry husky beat of his wings emphasizes +the apparent fact of drouth as you walk +on the desiccated slippery herbage of +meadow and pasture, the golden-wings +with all their grown-up family fly up before +you from their feast on the ant hills +and go flashing and flickering away like +rockets shot aslant, into the green tent +of the wild cherry trees to their dessert +of juicy black fruit.</p> + +<p>Early in the dreariness of November, +they have vanished with all the horde +of summer residents who have made +the season of leaf, flower, and fruit the +brighter by their presence. The desolate +leafless months go by, till at last +comes the promise of spring, and you are +aware of a half unconscious listening for +the golden-wings. Presently the loud, +long, joyous iteration breaks upon your +ear, and you hail the fulfillment of the +promise and the blithe new comer, a +golden link in the lengthening chain +that is encircling the earth.<span class="pagenum">[63]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<p class="caption">JUNE DAYS</p> + +<p>June brings skies of purest blue, +flecked with drifts of silver, fields and +woods in the flush of fresh verdure, with +the streams winding among them in +crystal loops that invite the angler with +promise of more than fish, something +that tackle cannot lure nor creel hold.</p> + +<p>The air is full of the perfume of locust +and grape bloom, the spicy odor of pine +and fir, and of pleasant voices—the +subdued murmur of the brook's changing +babble, the hum of bees, the stir of +the breeze, the songs of birds. Out of +the shady aisles of the woods come the +flute note of the hermit thrush, the silvery +chime of the tawny thrush; and +from the forest border, where the lithe +birches swing their shadows to and fro +along the bounds of wood and field, +comes that voice of June, the cuckoo's +gurgling note of preparation, and then<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> +the soft, monotonous call that centuries +ago gave him a name.</p> + +<p>General Kukushna the exiles in Siberia +entitle him; and when they hear +his voice, every one who can break +bounds is irresistibly drawn to follow +him, and live for a brief season a free +life in the greenwood. As to many +weary souls and hampered bodies there, +so to many such here comes the voice of +the little commander, now persuasive, +now imperative, not to men and women +in exile or wearing the convict's garb, +but suffering some sort of servitude laid +upon them or self-imposed. Toiling for +bread, for wealth, for fame, they are +alike in bondage—chained to the shop, +the farm, the desk, the office.</p> + +<p>Some who hear, obey, and revel in +the brief but delightful freedom of June +days spent in the perfumed breath of +full-leafed woods, by cold water-brooks +and rippled lakes. Others listen with +hungry hearts to the summons, but cannot +loose their fetters, and can only answer +with a sigh, "It is not for me," or +"Not yet," and toil on, still hoping for +future days of freedom.<span class="pagenum">[65]</span></p> + +<p>But saddest of all is the case of such +as hear not, or, hearing, heed not the +voice of the Kukushna, the voices of the +birds, the murmurous droning of bees +amid the blossoms, the sweet prattle +of running waters and dancing waves. +Though these come to them from all +about, and all about them are unfolded +the manifold beauties of this joyous +month, no sign is made to them. Their +dull ears hear not the voices of nature, +neither do their dim eyes see the wondrous +miracle of spring which has been +wrought all about them. Like the man +with the muck-rake, they toil on, intent +only upon the filth and litter at their +feet. Sad indeed must it be to have +a soul so poor that it responds to no +caress of nature, sadder than any imposition +of servitude or exile which yet +hinders not one's soul from arising with +intense longing for the wild world of +woods and waters when Kukushna sounds +his soft trumpet call.<span class="pagenum">[66]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE BULLFROG</p> + +<p>The flooded expanse of the marshes +has shrunken perceptibly along its shoreward +boundaries, leaving a mat of dead +weeds, bits of driftwood, and a water-worn +selvage of bare earth to mark its +widest limits. The green tips of the +rushes are thrust above the amber shallows, +whereon flotillas of water-shield lie +anchored in the sun, while steel-blue +devil's-needles sew the warm air with +intangible threads of zigzag flight.</p> + +<p>The meshed shadows of the water-maples +are full of the reflections of the +green and silver of young leaves. The +naked tangle of button-bushes has become +a green island, populous with garrulous +colonies of redwings. The great +flocks of wild ducks that came to the +reopened waters have had their holiday +rest, and journeyed onward to summer +homes and cares in the further north.<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> +The few that remain are in scattered +pairs and already in the silence and seclusion +of nesting. You rarely see the +voyaging muskrat or hear his plaintive +love calls.</p> + +<p>Your ear has long been accustomed +to the watery clangor of the bittern, +when a new yet familiar sound strikes +it, the thin, vibrant bass of the first bullfrog's +note. It may be lacking in musical +quality, but it is attuned to its surroundings, +and you are glad that the +green-coated player has at last recovered +his long-submerged banjo, and is twanging +its water-soaked strings in prelude +to the summer concert. He is a little +out of practice, and his instrument is +slightly out of tune, but a few days' use +will restore both touch and resonance, +when he and his hundred brethren shall +awaken the marsh-haunting echoes and +the sleeping birds with a grand twilight +recital. It will reach your ears a mile +away, and draw you back to the happy +days of boyhood, when you listened for +the bullfrogs to tell that fish would bite, +and it was time for boys to go a-fishing.</p> + +<p>In the first days of his return to the<span class="pagenum">[68]</span> +upper world of water, this old acquaintance +may be shy, and neither permit nor +offer any familiarity. The fixed placidity +of his countenance is not disturbed by +your approach, but if you overstep by +one pace what he considers the proper +limit, down goes his head under cover of +the flood. Marking his jerky course with +an underwake and a shiver of the rushes, +he reappears, to calmly observe you from +a safer distance.</p> + +<p>Custom outwears his diffidence, and +the fervid sun warms him to more genial +moods, when he will suffer you to come +quietly quite close to him and tickle +his sides with a bullrush, till in an ecstasy +of pleasure he loses all caution, and +bears with supreme contentment the +titillation of your finger tips. His flabby +sides swell with fullness of enjoyment, +his blinking eyes grow dreamy and the +corners of his blandly expressionless +mouth almost curve upward with an +elusive smile. Not till your fingers +gently close upon him does he become +aware of the indiscretion into which he +has lapsed, and with a frantic struggle +he tears himself away from your grasp<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> +and goes plunging headlong into his +nether element, bellowing out his shame +and astonishment.</p> + +<p>Another day as you troll along the +channel an oar's length from the weedy +borders, you see him afloat on his lily-pad +raft, heeding you no more than +does the golden-hearted blossom whose +orange odor drifts about him, nor is he +disturbed by splash of oar nor dip of +paddle, nor even when his bark and her +perfume-freighted consort are tossed on +your undulating wake.</p> + +<p>As summer wanes you see and hear +him less frequently, but he is still your +comrade of the marshes, occasionally announcing +his presence with a resonant +twang and a jerky splash among the +sedges.</p> + +<p>The pickerel weeds have struck their +blue banners to the conquering frost, +and the marshes are sere, and silent, and +desolate. When they are warmed again +with the new life of spring, we shall listen +for the jubilant chorus of our old +acquaintance, the bullfrog.<span class="pagenum">[70]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE ANGLER</p> + +<p class="caption">I</p> + +<p>Angling is set down by the master +of the craft, whom all revere but none +now follow, as the Contemplative Man's +Recreation; but is the angler, while +angling, a contemplative man?</p> + +<p>That beloved and worthy brother +whose worm-baited hook dangles in +quiet waters, placid as his mind—till +some wayfaring perch, or bream, or bullhead +shall by chance come upon it, he, +meanwhile, with rod set in the bank, +taking his ease upon the fresh June +sward, not touching his tackle nor regarding +it but with the corner of an eye—he +may contemplate and dream day +dreams. He may watch the clouds +drifting across the blue, the green +branches waving between him and +them, consider the lilies of the field,<span class="pagenum">[71]</span> +note the songs of the catbird in the +willow thicket, watch the poise and +plunge of the kingfisher, and so spend +all the day with nature and his own lazy +thoughts. That is what he came for. +Angling with him is only a pretense, an +excuse to pay a visit to the great mother +whom he so dearly loves; and if he carries +home not so much as a scale, he is +happy and content.</p> + +<p>But how is it with him who comes +stealing along with such light tread that +it scarcely crushes the violets or shakes +the dewdrops from the ferns, and casts +his flies with such precise skill upon the +very handsbreadth of water that gives +most promise to his experienced eye; or +drops his minnow with such care into +the eddying pool, where he feels a bass +must lie awaiting it. Eye and ear and +every organ of sense are intent upon +the sport for which he came. He sees +only the images of the clouds, no branch +but that which impedes him or offers +cover to his stealthy approach. His ear +is more alert for the splash of fishes than +for bird songs. With his senses go all<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> +his thoughts, and float not away in day +dreams.</p> + +<p>Howsoever much he loves her, for +the time while he hath rod in hand +Mother Nature is a fish-woman, and +he prays that she may deal generously +with him. Though he be a parson, his +thoughts tend not to religion; though a +savant, not to science; though a statesman, +not to politics; though an artist, +to no art save the art of angling. So +far removed from all these while he casts +his fly or guides his minnow, how much +further is his soul from all but the matter +in hand when a fish has taken the +one or the other, and all his skill is taxed +to the utmost to bring his victim to +creel. Heresy and paganism may prevail, +the light of science be quenched, +the country go to the dogs, pictures go +unpainted, and statues unmoulded till he +has saved this fish.</p> + +<p>When the day is spent, the day's +sport done, and he wends his way homeward +with a goodly score, satisfied with +himself and all the world besides, he +may ponder on many things apart from +that which has this day taken him by<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> +green fields and pleasant waters. Now +he may brood his thoughts, and dream +dreams; but while he angles, the complete +angler is not a contemplative man.</p> + +<br> + +<p class="caption">II</p> + +<p>The rivers roaring between their +brimming banks; the brooks babbling +over their pebbled beds and cross-stream +logs that will be bridges for the fox in +midsummer; the freed waters of lakes +and ponds, dashing in slow beat of waves +or quicker pulse of ripples against their +shores, in voices monotonous but never +tiresome, now call all who delight in the +craft to go a-fishing.</p> + +<p>With the sap in the aged tree, the +blood quickens in the oldest angler's +veins, whether he be of the anointed +who fish by the book, or of the common +sort who practice the methods of the forgotten +inventors of the art.</p> + +<p>The first are busy with rods and reels +that are a pleasure to the eye and touch, +with fly-books whose leaves are as bright +with color as painted pictures, the others +rummaging corner-cupboards for mislaid +lines, searching the sheds for favorite<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> +poles of ash, ironwood, tamarack, or cedar, +or perhaps the woods for one just +budding on its sapling stump.</p> + +<p>Each enjoys as much as the other the +pleasant labor of preparation and the anticipation +of sport, though perhaps that +of the scientific angler is more æsthetic +enjoyment, as his outfitting is the daintier +and more artistic. But to each +comes the recollection of past happy days +spent on lake, river and brook, memories +touched with a sense of loss, of days that +can never come again, of comrades gone +forever from earthly companionship.</p> + +<p>And who shall say that the plebeian +angler does not enter upon the untangling +of his cotton lines, the trimming +of his new cut pole, and the digging of +his worms, with as much zest as his brother +of the finer cast on the testing and +mending of lancewood or split bamboo +rod, the overhauling of silken lines and +leaders, and the assorting of flies.</p> + +<br> + +<p class="caption">III</p> + +<p>Considering the younger generation +of anglers, one finds more enthusiasm +among those who talk learnedly of all<span class="pagenum">[75]</span> +the niceties of the art. They scorn all +fish not acknowledged as game. They +plan more, though they may accomplish +less than the common sort to whom all +of fishing tackle is a pole, a line, and a +hook. To them fishing is but fishing, +and fish are only fish, and they will go +for one or the other when the signs are +right and the day propitious.</p> + +<p>Descending to the least and latest +generation of anglers, we see the conditions +reversed. The youth born to rod +and reel and fly is not so enthusiastic in +his devotion to the sport as the boy +whose birthright is only the pole that +craftsman never fashioned, the kinky +lines of the country store, and hooks +known by no maker's name. For it is +not in the nature of a boy to hold to any +nicety in sport of any sort, and this one, +being herein unrestrained, enters upon +the art called gentle with all the wild +freedom of a young savage or a half-grown +mink.</p> + +<p>For him it is almost as good as going +fishing, to unearth and gather in an old +teapot the worms, every one of which is +to his sanguine vision the promise of a<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> +fish. What completeness of happiness +for him to be allowed to go fishing with +his father or grandfather or the acknowledged +great fisherman of the neighborhood, +a good-for-nothing ne'er-do-well, +but wise in all the ways of fish and their +taking and very careful of and kind to +little boys.</p> + +<p>The high-hole never cackled so merrily, +nor meadow lark sang sweeter, nor +grass sprang greener nor water shone +brighter than to the boy when he goes +a-fishing thus accompanied. To him is +welcome everything that comes from the +waters, be it trout, bass, perch, bullhead, +or sunfish, and he hath pride even in the +abominable but toothsome eel and the +uneatable bowfin.</p> + +<p>Well, remembering that we were once +boys and are yet anglers, though we seldom +go a-fishing, we wish, in the days +of the new springtide, to all the craft, +whether they be of high or low degree, +bent and cramped with the winter of +age or flushed with the spring of life, +pleasant and peaceful days of honest +sport by all watersides, and full creels +and strings and wythes.<span class="pagenum">[77]</span></p> + +<br> + +<p class="caption">IV</p> + +<p>In the soft evenings of April when the +air is full of the undefinable odor of the +warming earth and of the incessant rejoicing +of innumerable members of the +many families of batrachians, one may +see silently moving lights prowling along +the low shores of shallow waters, now +hidden by trunks of great trees that are +knee-deep in the still water, now emerging, +illuminating bolls and branches and +flashing their glimmering glades far +across the ripples of wake and light +breeze.</p> + +<p>If one were near enough he could see +the boat of the spearers, its bow and the +intent figure of the spearman aglow in +the light of the jack which flares a backward +flame with its steady progress, and +drops a slow shower of sparks, while the +stern and the paddler sitting therein are +dimly apparent in the verge of the gloom.</p> + +<p>These may be honest men engaged in +no illegal affair; they exercise skill of +a certain sort; they are enthusiastic in +the pursuit of their pastime, which is as +fair as jacking deer, a practice upheld by<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> +many in high places; yet these who by +somewhat similar methods take fish for +sport and food are not accounted honest +fishermen, but arrant poachers. If jacking +deer is right, how can jacking fish +be wrong? or if jacking fish be wrong, +how can jacking deer be right? Verily, +there are nice distinctions in the ethics +of sport.<span class="pagenum">[79]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS</p> + +<div class="inset14"> +<p>"Happy the man whose only care<br> +<span style="margin-left:1em">A few paternal acres bound,<br></span> +Content to breathe his native air<br> +<span style="margin-left:1em">On his own ground."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Happier still is such a one who has a +love for the rod and gun, and with them +finds now and then a day's freedom from +all cares by the side of the stream that +borders his own acres and in the woods +that crest his knolls or shade his swamp.</p> + +<p>As a rule none of our people take so +few days of recreation as the farmer. +Excepting Sundays, two or three days at +the county fair, and perhaps as many +more spent in the crowd and discomfort +of a cheap railroad excursion, are all that +are given by the ordinary farmer to anything +but the affairs of the farm. It is +true that his outdoor life makes it less +necessary for him than for the man +whose office or shop work keeps him<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> +mostly indoors, to devote a month or a +fortnight of each year to entire rest from +labor. Indeed, he can hardly do this +except in winter, when his own fireside +is oftener the pleasantest place for rest. +But he would be the better for more +days of healthful pleasure, and many +such he might have if he would so use +those odd ones which fall within his +year, when crops are sown and planted +or harvested. A day in the woods or by +the stream is better for body and mind +than one spent in idle gossip at the village +store, and nine times out of ten +better for the pocket, though one come +home without fin or feather to show for +his day's outing. One who keeps his +eyes and ears on duty while abroad in +the field can hardly fail to see and hear +something new, or, at least, more interesting +and profitable than ordinary gossip, +and the wear and tear of tackle and +a few charges of ammunition wasted will +cost less than the treats which are pretty +apt to be part of a day's loafing.</p> + +<p>Barring the dearth of the objects of +his pursuit, the farmer who goes a-fishing +and a-hunting should not be unsuccessful<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> +if he has fair skill with the rod and +gun. For he who knows most of the +habits of fish and game will succeed best +in their capture, and no man, except the +naturalist and the professional fisherman +and hunter, has a better chance to gain +this knowledge than the farmer, whose +life brings him into everyday companionship +with nature. His fields and woods +are the homes and haunts of the birds +and beasts of venery, from the beginning +of the year to its end, and in his streams +many of the fishes pass their lives. By +his woodside the quail builds her nest, +and when the foam of blossom has dried +away on the buckwheat field she leads +her young there to feed on the brown +kernel stranded on the coral stems. If +he chance to follow his wood road in +early June, the ruffed grouse limps and +flutters along it before him, while her +callow chicks vanish as if by a conjurer's +trick from beneath his very footfall. A +month later, grown to the size of robins, +they will scatter on the wing from his +path with a vigor that foretells the bold +whir and the swiftness of their flight in +their grown-up days, when they will stir<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> +the steadiest nerve, whether they hurtle +from an October-painted thicket or from +the blue shadows of untracked snow. +No one is likelier to see and hear the +strange wooing of the woodcock in the +soft spring evenings, and to the farmer's +ear first comes that assurance of spring, +the wail of the Bartram's sandpiper returning +from the South to breed in +meadow and pasture, and then in hollow +trees that overhang the river the wood +ducks begin to spoil their holiday attire +in the work and care of housekeeping. +The fox burrows and breeds in the +farmer's woods. The raccoon's den is +there in ledge or hollow tree. The hare +makes her form in the shadow of his +evergreens, where she dons her dress of +tawny or white to match the brown floor +of the woods or its soft covering of snow. +The bass comes to his river in May to +spawn, the pike-perch for food, and the +perch lives there, as perhaps the trout +does in his brook.</p> + +<p>All these are his tenants, or his summer +boarders, and if he knows not something +of their lives, and when and where +to find them at home or in their favorite<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> +resorts, he is a careless landlord. His +life will be the pleasanter for the interest +he takes in theirs, and the skill he +acquires in bringing them to bag and +creel.<span class="pagenum">[84]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> + +<p class="caption">TO A TRESPASS SIGN</p> + +<p>Scene, <i>A Wood. An old man with a fishing-rod speaks</i>:—</p> + +<p>What strange object is this which I +behold, incongruous in its staring whiteness +of fresh paint and black lettering, +its straightness of lines and abrupt irregularity +amid the soft tints and graceful +curves of this sylvan scene? As I live, +a trespass sign!</p> + +<p>Thou inanimate yet most impertinent +thing, dumb yet commanding me with +most imperative words to depart hence, +how dost thou dare forbid my entrance +upon what has so long been my own, +even as it is the birds' and beasts' and +fishes', not by lease or title deed, but +of natural right? Hither from time immemorial +have they come at will and so +departed at no man's behest, as have I +since the happy days when a barefoot +boy I cast my worm-baited hook among<span class="pagenum">[85]</span> +the crystal foam bells, or bearing the +heavy burden of my grandsire's rusty +flint-lock, I stalked the wily grouse in +the diurnal twilight of these thickets.</p> + +<p>Here was I thrilled by the capture of +my first trout; here exulted over the +downfall of my first woodcock; here, +grown to man's estate, I learned to cast +the fly; here beheld my first dog draw +on his game, and here, year after year, +till my locks have grown gray, have I +come, sharp set with months of longing, +to live again for a little while the carefree +days of youth.</p> + +<p>Never have I been bidden to depart +but by storm or nightfall or satiety, until +now thou confrontest me with thy impudent +mandate, thou, thou contemptible, +but yet not to be despised nor unheeded +parallelogram of painted deal, with thy +legal phrases and impending penalties; +thou, the silent yet terribly impressive +representative of men whose purses are +longer than mine!</p> + +<p>What is their right to this stream, these +woods, compared with mine? Theirs +is only gained by purchase, confirmed by +scrawled parchment, signed and sealed;<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> +mine a birthright, as always I hoped it +might be of my sons and my sons' sons. +What to the usurpers of our rights are +these woods and waters but a place for +the killing of game and fish? They do +not love, as a man the roof-tree where-under +he was born, these arches and low +aisles of the woods; they do not know as +I do every silver loop of the brook, every +tree whose quivering reflection throbs +across its eddies; its voice is only babble +to their ears, the song of the pines tells +them no story of bygone years.</p> + +<p>Of all comers here, I who expected +most kindly welcome am most inhospitably +treated. All my old familiars, the +birds, the beasts, and the fishes, may fly +over thee, walk beneath thee, swim +around thee, but to me thou art a wall +that I may not pass.</p> + +<p>I despise thee and spit upon thee, thou +most impudent intruder, thou insolent +sentinel, thou odious monument of selfishness, +but I dare not lay hands upon +thee and cast thee down and trample +thee in the dust of the earth as thou +shouldst of right be entreated. To rid +myself of thy hateful sight, I can only<span class="pagenum">[87]</span> +turn my back upon thee and depart with +sorrow and anger in my heart.</p> + +<p>Mayst thou keep nothing but disappointment +for the greedy wretches who +set thee here.<span class="pagenum">[88]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> + +<p class="caption">A GENTLE SPORTSMAN</p> + +<p>All the skill of woodcraft that goes +to the making of the successful hunter +with the gun, must be possessed by him +who hunts his game with the camera. +His must be the stealthy, panther-like +tread that breaks no twig nor rustles the +fallen leaves. His the eye that reads +at a glance the signs that to the ordinary +sight are a blank or at most are an +untranslatable enigma. His a patience +that counts time as nothing when measured +with the object sought. When by +the use and practice of these, he has +drawn within a closer range of his timid +game than his brother of the gun need +attain, he pulls trigger of a weapon that +destroys not, but preserves its unharmed +quarry in the very counterfeit of life and +motion. The wild world is not made +the poorer by one life for his shot, nor<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> +nature's peace disturbed, nor her nicely +adjusted balance jarred.</p> + +<p>He bears home his game, wearing +still its pretty ways of life in the midst +of its loved surroundings, the swaying +hemlock bough where the grouse perched, +the bending ferns about the deer's couch, +the dew-beaded sedges where the woodcock +skulks in the shadows of the alders, +the lichened trunks and dim vistas of +primeval woods, the sheen of voiceless +waterfalls, the flash of sunlit waves that +never break.</p> + +<p>His trophies the moth may not assail. +His game touches a finer sense +than the palate possesses, satisfies a nobler +appetite than the stomach's craving, +and furnishes forth a feast that, ever +spread, ever invites, and never palls upon +the taste.</p> + +<p>Moreover, this gentlest of sportsmen +is hampered by no restrictions of close +time, nor confronted by penalties of +trespass. All seasons are open for his +bloodless forays, all woods and waters +free to his harmless weapon.</p> + +<p>Neither is he trammeled by any nice +distinctions as to what may or may not<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> +be considered game. Everything counts +in his score. The eagle on his craggy +perch, the high-hole on his hollow tree, +are as legitimate game for him as the +deer and grouse. All things beautiful +and wild and picturesque are his, yet he +kills them not, but makes them a living +and enduring joy, to himself and all who +behold them.<span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> + +<p class="caption">JULY DAYS</p> + +<p>The woods are dense with full-grown +leafage. Of all the trees, only the basswood +has delayed its blossoming, to +crown the height of summer and fill the +sun-steeped air with a perfume that calls +all the wild bees from hollow tree and +scant woodside gleaning to a wealth of +honey gathering, and all the hive-dwellers +from their board-built homes to a +finer and sweeter pillage than is offered +by the odorous white sea of buckwheat. +Half the flowers of wood and fields are +out of bloom. Herdsgrass, clover and +daisy are falling before the mower. The +early grain fields have already caught +the color of the sun, and the tasseling +corn rustles its broad leaves above the +rich loam that the woodcock delights to +bore.</p> + +<p>The dwindling streams have lost their +boisterous clamor of springtide and wimple<span class="pagenum">[92]</span> +with subdued voices over beds too +shallow to hide a minnow or his poised +shadow on the sunlit shallows. The +sharp eye of the angler probes the green +depths of the slowly swirling pools, and +discovers the secrets of the big fish which +congregate therein.</p> + +<p>The river has marked the stages of +its decreasing volume with many lines +along its steep banks. It discloses the +muskrat's doorway, to which he once +dived so gracefully, but now must clumsily +climb to. Rafts of driftwood bridge +the shallow current sunk so low that +the lithe willows bend in vain to kiss +its warm bosom. This only the swaying +trails of water-weeds and rustling sedges +toy with now; and swift-winged swallows +coyly touch. There is not depth to +hide the scurrying schools of minnows, +the half of whom fly into the air in a +curving burst of silver shower before the +rush of a pickerel, whose green and mottled +sides gleam like a swift-shot arrow +in the downright sunbeams.</p> + +<p>The sandpiper tilts along the shelving +shore. Out of an embowered harbor a +wood duck convoys her fleet of ducklings,<span class="pagenum">[93]</span> +and on the ripples of their wake +the anchored argosies of the water lilies +toss and cast adrift their cargoes of perfume. +Above them the green heron +perches on an overhanging branch, uncouth +but alert, whether sentinel or +scout, flapping his awkward way along +the ambient bends and reaches. With +slow wing-beats he signals the coming +of some more lazily moving boat, that +drifts at the languid will of the current +or indolent pull of oars that grate on +the golden-meshed sand and pebbles.</p> + +<p>Lazily, unexpectantly, the angler casts +his line, to be only a convenient perch +for the dragonflies; for the fish, save +the affrighted minnows and the hungry +pickerel, are as lazy as he. To-day he +may enjoy to the full the contemplative +man's recreation, nor have his contemplations +disturbed by any finny folk of +the under-water world, while dreamily he +floats in sunshine and dappled shadow, +so at one with the placid waters and +quiet shores that wood duck, sandpiper, +and heron scarcely note his unobtrusive +presence.</p> + +<p>No such easy and meditative pastime<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> +attends his brother of the gun who, +sweating under the burden of lightest apparel +and equipment, beats the swampy +covers where beneath the sprawling alders +and arching fronds of fern the woodcock +hides. Not a breath stirs the murky +atmosphere of these depths of shade, +hotter than sunshine; not a branch nor +leaf moves but with his struggling passage, +or marking with a wake of waving +undergrowth the course of his unseen +dog.</p> + +<p>Except this rustling of branches, +sedges and ferns, the thin, continuous +piping of the swarming mosquitoes, the +busy tapping and occasional harsh call +of a woodpecker, scarcely a sound invades +the hot silence, till the wake of +the hidden dog ceases suddenly and the +waving brakes sway with quickening +vibrations into stillness behind him. +Then, his master draws cautiously near, +with gun at a ready and an unheeded +mosquito drilling his nose, the fern leaves +burst apart with a sudden shiver, and +a woodcock, uttering that shrill unexplained +twitter, upsprings in a halo of +rapid wing-beats and flashes out of sight<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> +among leaves and branches. As quick, +the heelplate strikes the alert gunner's +shoulder, and, as if in response to the +shock, the short unechoed report jars +the silence of the woods. As if out of +the cloud of sulphurous smoke, a shower +of leaves flutter down, with a quicker +patter of dry twigs and shards of bark, +and among all these a brown clod drops +lifeless and inert to mother earth.</p> + +<p>A woodcock is a woodcock, though +but three-quarters grown; and the shot +one that only a quick eye and ready +hand may accomplish; but would not +the achievement have been more worthy, +the prize richer, the sport keener in the +gaudy leafage and bracing air of October, +rather than in this sweltering heat, befogged +with clouds of pestering insects, +when every step is a toil, every moment +a torture? Yet men deem it sport and +glory if they do not delight in its performance. +The anxious note and behavior +of mother song-birds, whose poor +little hearts are in as great a flutter as +their wings concerning their half-grown +broods, hatched coincidently with the +woodcock, is proof enough to those who<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> +would heed it, that this is not a proper +season for shooting. But in some northerly +parts of our wide country it is woodcock +now or never, for the birds bred +still further northward are rarely tempted +by the cosiest copse or half-sunned hillside +of open woods to linger for more +than a day or two, as they fare southward, +called to warmer days of rest and +frostless moonlit nights of feeding under +kindlier skies.</p> + +<p>While the nighthawk's monotonous +cry and intermittent boom and the indistinct +voice of the whippoorwill ring out +in the late twilight of the July evenings, +the alarmed, half-guttural chuckle of the +grass plover is heard, so early migrating +in light marching order, thin in flesh but +strong of wing, a poor prize for the gunner +whose ardor outruns his humanity +and better judgment. Lean or fat, a +plover is a plover, but would that he +might tarry with us till the plump grasshoppers +of August and September had +clothed his breast and ribs with fatness.</p> + +<p>Well, let him go, if so soon he will. +So let the woodcock go, to offer his best +to more fortunate sportsmen. What<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> +does it profit us to kill merely for the +sake of killing, and have to show therefor +but a beggarly account of bones and +feathers? Are there not grouse and +quail and woodcock waiting for us, and +while we wait for them can we not content +ourselves with indolent angling by +shaded streams in these melting days +of July rather than contribute the blaze +and smoke of gunpowder to the heat and +murkiness of midsummer? If we must +shed blood let us tap the cool veins of +the fishes, not the hot arteries of brooding +mother birds and their fledgelings.<span class="pagenum">[98]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> + +<p class="caption">CAMPING OUT</p> + +<p>"Camping out" is becoming merely +a name for moving out of one's permanent +habitation and dwelling for a few +weeks in a well-built lodge, smaller than +one's home, but as comfortable and almost +as convenient; with tables, chairs +and crockery, carpets and curtains, beds +with sheets and blankets on real bedsteads, +a stove and its full outfit of cooking +utensils, wherefrom meals are served +in the regular ways of civilization. Living +in nearly the same fashion of his +ordinary life, except that he wears a +flannel shirt and a slouch hat, and fishes +a little and loafs more than is his ordinary +custom, our "camper" imagines +that he is getting quite close to the primitive +ways of hunters and trappers; that +he is living their life with nothing lacking +but the rough edges, which he has ingeniously<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> +smoothed away. He is mistaken. +In ridding himself of some of its +discomforts, he has lost a great deal of +the best of real camp life; the spice of +small adventure, and the woodsy flavor +that its half-hardships and makeshift +appliances give it. If one sleeps a little +cold under his one blanket on his bed +of evergreen twigs, though he does not +take cold, he realizes in some degree the +discomfort of Boone's bivouac when he +cuddled beside his hounds to keep from +freezing—and feels slightly heroic. His +slumbers are seasoned with dreams of +the wild woods, as the balsamic perfume +of his couch steals into his nostrils; his +companions' snores invade his drowsy +senses as the growl of bears, and the +thunderous whir of grouse bursting out +of untrodden thickets. When he awakes +in the gray of early morning he finds +that the few hours of sleep have wrought +a miracle of rest, and he feels himself +nearer to nature when he washes his +face in the brook, than when he rinses +off his sleepiness in bowl or basin. The +water of the spring is colder and has a<span class="pagenum">[100]</span> +finer flavor when he drinks it from a +birch bark cup of his own making. Tea +made in a frying-pan has an aroma never +known to such poor mortals as brew +their tea in a teapot, and no mill ever +ground such coffee as that which is tied +up in a rag and pounded with a stone or +hatchet-head. A sharpened stick for a +fork gives a zest to the bit of pork "frizzled" +on as rude a spit and plattered on +a clean chip or a sheet of bark, and no +fish was ever more toothsome than when +broiled on a gridiron improvised of green +wands or roasted Indian fashion in a +cleft stick.</p> + +<p>What can make amends for the loss of +the camp-fire, with innumerable pictures +glowing and shifting in its heart, and +conjuring strange shapes out of the surrounding +gloom, and suggesting unseen +mysteries that the circle of darkness +holds behind its rim? How are the wells +of conversation to be thawed out by a +black stove, so that tales of hunters' and +fishers' craft and adventure shall flow till +the measure of man's belief is overrun? +How is the congenial spark of true companionship +to be kindled when people<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> +brood around a stove and light their +pipes with matches, and not with coals +snatched out of the camp-fire's edge, or +with twigs that burn briefly with baffling +flame?</p> + +<p>But it will not be long before it will be +impossible to get a taste of real camping +without taking long and expensive journeys, +for every available rod of lake shore +and river bank is being taken up and +made populous with so-called camps, and +the comfortable freedom and seclusion +of a real camp are made impossible +there. One desiring that might better +pitch his tent in the back woodlot of a +farm than in any such popular resort. +This misnamed camping out has become +a fashion which seems likely to last till +the shores are as thronged as the towns, +and the woods are spoiled for the real +campers, whom it is possible to imagine +seeking in the summers of the +future a seclusion in the cities that the +forests and streams no longer can give +them.</p> + +<p>Yet, let it be understood that make-believe +camping is better than no camping. +It cannot but bring people into<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> +more intimate relations with nature than +they would be if they stayed at home, +and so to better acquaintance with our +common mother, who deals so impartially +with all her children.<span class="pagenum">[103]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE CAMP-FIRE</p> + +<p>If "the open fire furnishes the room," +the camp-fire does more for the camp. +It is its life—a life that throbs out in +every flare and flicker to enliven the +surroundings, whether they be the trees +of the forest, the expanse of prairie, +shadowed only by clouds and night, or +the barren stretch of sandy shore. Out +of the encompassing gloom of all these, +the camp-fire materializes figures as real +to the eye as flesh and blood. It peoples +the verge of darkness with grotesque +forms, that leap and crouch and sway +with the rise and fall and bending of the +flame to the wind, and that beckon the +fancy out to grope in the mystery of night.</p> + +<p>Then imagination soars with the updrift +of smoke and the climbing galaxy +of fading sparks, to where the steadfast +stars shine out of the unvisited realm +that only imagination can explore.<span class="pagenum">[104]</span></p> + +<p>The camp-fire gives an expression to +the human face that it bears in no other +light, a vague intentness, an absorption +in nothing tangible; and yet not a far-away +look, for it is focused on the flame +that now licks a fresh morsel of wood, +now laps the empty air; or it is fixed +on the shifting glow of embers, whose +blushes flush or fade under their ashen +veil. It is not the gaze of one who looks +past everything at nothing, or at the +stars or the mountains or the far-away +sea-horizon; but it is centred on and +revealed only by the camp-fire. You +wonder what the gazer beholds—the +past, the future, or something that is +neither; and the uncertain answer you +can only get by your own questioning of +the flickering blaze.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As the outers gather around this +cheerful centre their lips exhale stories +of adventure by field and flood, as naturally +as the burning fuel does smoke and +sparks, and in that engendering warmth, +no fish caught or lost, no buck killed +or missed, suffers shrinkage in size or +weight, no peril is lessened, no tale shorn<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> +of minutest detail. All these belong to +the camp-fire, whether it is built in conformity +to scientific rules or piled clumsily +by unskilled hands. What satisfaction +there is in the partnership of building +this altar of the camp, for though +a master of woodcraft superintends, all +may take a hand in its erection; the +youngest and the weakest may contribute +a stick that will brighten the blaze.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>What hospitality the glow of the +camp-fire proclaims in inviting always +one more to the elastic circle of light +and warmth, that if always complete, yet +expands to receive another guest. A +pillar of cloud by day, of fire by night, it +is a beacon that guides the wanderer to +shelter and comfort.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The Indian weed has never such perfect +flavor as when, contending with heat +and smoke, one lights his pipe with a +coal or an elusive flame, snatched from +the embers of the camp-fire, and by no +other fireside does the nicotian vapor so +soothe the perturbed senses, bring such +lazy contentment, nor conjure such pleasant<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> +fancies out of the border of dreamland.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There is no cooking comparable with +that which the camp-fire affords. To +whatever is boiled, stewed, roasted, +broiled or baked over its blaze, in the +glow of its embers or in its ashes, it imparts +a distinctive woodsy flavor that it +distills out of itself or draws from the +spiced air that fans it; and the aroma +of every dish invites an appetite that is +never disappointed if the supply be large +enough.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It cannot be denied that the camp +stove gives forth warmth and, with more +comfort to the cook, serves to cook food +of such tame flavor as one may get at +home. But though the serviceable little +imp roar till its black cheeks glow red +as winter berries, it cannot make shanty +or tent a camp in reality or impart to an +outing its true flavor. This can only be +given by the generous camp-fire, whose +flames and embers no narrow walls inclose, +whose hearth is on every side, +whose chimney is the wide air.<span class="pagenum">[107]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> + +<p class="caption">A RAINY DAY IN CAMP</p> + +<p>The plans of the camper, like those of +other men, "gang aft agley." The morrow, +which he proposed to devote to some +long-desired hunting or fishing trip, is no +more apt to dawn propitiously on him +than on the husbandman, the mariner, +or any other mortal who looks to the +weather for special favor. On the contrary, +instead of the glowing horizon and +the glory of the sunburst that should +usher in the morning, the slow dawn is +quite apt to have the unwelcome accompaniment +of rain.</p> + +<p>The hearing, first alert of the drowsy +senses, catches the sullen patter of the +drops on tent or shanty, their spiteful, +hissing fall on the smouldering embers of +the camp-fire, and with a waft of damp +earth and herbage stealing into his nostrils, +the disappointed awakener turns +fretfully under his blanket, then crawls<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> +forth to have his lingering hope smothered +in the veil of rain that blurs the +landscape almost to annihilation.</p> + +<p>He mutters anathemas against the +weather, then takes the day as it has +come to him, for better or for worse. +First, to make the best of it, he piles +high the camp-fire, and dispels with its +glow and warmth some cubic feet of +gloom and dampness. Then he sets +about breakfast-making, scurrying forth +from shelter to fire, in rapid culinary +forays, battling with the smoke, for +glimpses of the contents of kettle and +pan. His repast is as pungent with +smoke as the strong waters of Glenlivat, +but if that is valued for its flavor of peat-reek, +why should he scorn food for the +like quality?</p> + +<p>Then if he delights in petty warfare +with the elements, to bide the pelting +of the rain, to storm the abatis of wet +thickets and suffer the sapping and mining +of insidious moisture, he girds up his +loins and goes forth with rod or gun, as +his desire of conquest may incline him.</p> + +<p>But if he has come to his outing +with the intention of pursuing sport with<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> +bodily comfort, he is at once assured +that this is unattainable under the present +conditions of the weather. Shall he +beguile the tediousness of a wet day in +camp with books and papers?</p> + +<p>Nay, if they were not left behind in +the busy, plodding world that he came +here to escape from, they should have +been. He wants nothing here that reminds +him of traffic or politics; nothing +of history, for now he has only to do +with the present; nothing of travel, for +his concern now is only with the exploration +of this wild domain. He does not +wish to be bothered with fiction, idealized +reality is what he desires. Neither does +he care for what other men have written +of nature. Her book is before him and +he may read it from first hands.</p> + +<p>Looking forth from his snug shelter +on the circumscribed landscape, he +marvels at the brightness of a distant +yellow tree that shines like a living +flame through the veil of mist. The +blaze of his sputtering camp-fire is not +brighter. He notices, as perhaps he +never did before, how distinctly the +dark ramage of the branches is traced<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> +among the brilliant leaves, as if with +their autumnal hues they were given +transparency. Some unfelt waft of the +upper air casts aside for a moment the +curtain of mist and briefly discloses a +mountain peak, radiant with all the hues +of autumn, and it is as if one were +given, as in a dream, a glimpse of the +undiscovered country. He realizes a +dreamy pleasure in watching the waves +coming in out of the obscurity and dashing +on the shore, or pulsing away in +fading leaden lines into the mystery of +the wrack.</p> + +<p>In the borders of the mist the ducks +revel in the upper and nether wetness, +and with uncanny laughter the loon rejoices +between his long explorations of +the aquatic depth. A mink, as heedless +of rain as the waterfowl, comes stealing +along the shore, thridding the intricacies +of driftwood and web of wave-washed +tree roots, often peering out in inquisitive +examination of the quiet camp. +Less cautious visitors draw nearer—the +friendly chickadee, hanging from the +nearest twig; the nuthatch, sounding +his penny trumpet, accompanied by the<span class="pagenum">[111]</span> +tap of the woodpecker, as one creeps +down, the other up a tree trunk; the +scolding jays, making as noisy protest +over human intrusion as if they had just +discovered it; a saucy squirrel, scoffing +and jeering, till tired of his raillery he +settles down to quiet nut-rasping under +shelter of his tail.</p> + +<p>There are unseen visitors, too: wood-mice, +astir under cover of the fallen +leaves, and, just discernible among the +patter of the falling rain and of the squirrels' +filings, footfalls unidentified, till a +ruffed grouse starts new showers from +the wet branches in the thunder of his +flight.</p> + +<p>Narrowed to the width of tent or +shanty front, the background but a +pallid shroud of mist, the landscape yet +holds much for pleasant study. But if +the weather-bound camper exhausts this +or tires of it, he may turn to gun-cleaning +or tackle-mending. If a guide be +with him, he can listen to his stories of +hunting, fishing, and adventure, or learn +woodcraft of him and the curious ways +of birds and beasts. He may fashion +birch-bark camp-ware, dippers, cups, and<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> +boxes, or whittle a paddle from a smooth-rifted +maple. If he is of artistic turn, +he can pleasantly devote an hour to +etching pictures on the white under surface +of the fungus that grows on decaying +trees, and so provide himself with +reminders of this rainy day in camp.</p> + +<p>So, with one and another pastime, +he whiles away the sunless day, which, +almost before he has thought of it, +merges into the early nightfall, and he +is lulled to sleep by the same sound that +wakened him, the drip and patter of the +rain. And when he looks back to these +days of outing he may count this, which +dawned so unpropitiously, not the least +pleasant and profitable among them, and +mark with a white stone the rainy day +in camp.<span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> + +<p class="caption">AUGUST DAYS</p> + +<p>With such unmistakable signs made +manifest to the eye and ear the summer +signals its fullness and decline, that one +awakening now from a sleep that fell +upon him months ago might be assured +of the season with the first touch of +awakening.</p> + +<p>To the first aroused sense comes the +long-drawn cry of the locust fading into +silence with the dry, husky clap of his +wings; the changed voice of the song +birds, no more caroling the jocund tunes +of mating and nesting time, but plaintive +with the sadness of farewell.</p> + +<p>The bobolink has lost, with his pied +coat, the merry lilt that tinkled so continually +over the buttercups and daisies +of the June meadows; rarely the song +sparrow utters the trill that cheered us +in the doubtful days of early spring. +The bluebird's abbreviated carol floats<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> +down from the sky as sweet as then, +but mournful as the patter of autumn +leaves. The gay goldfinch has but +three notes left of his June song, as he +tilts on the latest blossoms and fluffy +seeds of the thistles. The meadowlark +charms us no more with his long-drawn +melody, but with one sharp, insistent +note he struts in the meadow stubble +or skulks among the tussocks of the +pasture and challenges the youthful gunner. +What an easy shot that even, +steady flight offers, and yet it goes onward +with unfaltering rapid wing-beats, +while the gun thunders and the harmless +shot flies behind him. The flicker +cackles now no more as when he was a +jubilant new comer, with the new-come +spring for his comrade, but is silent or +only yelps one harsh note as he flashes +his golden wings in loping flight from +fence-stake to ant-hill.</p> + +<p>The plover chuckles while he lingers +at the bounteous feast of grasshoppers, +but never pierces the August air with +the long wail that proclaimed his springtime +arrival. After nightfall, too, is +heard his chuckling call fluttering down<span class="pagenum">[115]</span> +from the aerial path, where he wends +his southward way, high and distinct +above the shrill monotony of crickets +and August pipers. The listening sportsman +may well imagine that the departing +bird is laughing at him as much as +signaling his course to companion wayfarers.</p> + +<p>The woodland thrushes' flutes and +bells have ceased to breathe and chime, +only the wood pewee keeps his pensive +song of other days, yet best befitting +those of declining summer.</p> + +<p>The trees are dark with ripened leafage; +out of the twilight of the woodside +glow the declining disks of wild sunflowers +and shine the rising constellations +of asters. The meadow sides are +gay with unshorn fringes of goldenrod +and willow-herb, and there in the corners +of the gray fences droop the heavy clusters +of elderberries, with whose purple +juice the flocking robins and the young +grouse, stealing from the shadowed +copses along this belt of shade, dye their +bills.</p> + +<p>The brook trails its attenuated thread +out of the woodland gloom to gild its<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> +shallow ripples with sunshine and redden +them with the inverted flames of the +cardinals that blaze on the sedgy brink. +Here the brown mink prowls with her +lithe cubs, all unworthy yet of the trapper's +skill, but tending toward it with +growth accelerated by full feasts of pool-impounded +minnows. Here, too, the +raccoon sets the print of his footsteps on +the muddy shores as he stays his stomach +with frogs and sharpens his appetite +with the hot sauce of Indian turnip while +he awaits the setting of his feast in the +cornfields. The hounds are more impatient +than he for the opening of his +midnight revel, and tug at their chains +and whimper and bay when they hear +his querulous call trembling through the +twilight. They are even fooled to melodiously +mournful protest when their ears +catch the shriller quaver of the screech +owl's note.</p> + +<p>The woodcock skulks in the bordering +alders, and when forced to flight does +so with a stronger wing than when a +month ago his taking off was first legally +authorized. Another month will make +him worthier game; and then, too, the<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> +ruffed grouse need not be spared a shot, +as full grown and strong of pinion he +bursts from cover; nor need the wood +duck, now but a vigorous bunch of pin +feathers, be let go untried or unscathed, +when from his perch on a slanted log or +out of a bower of rushes he breaks into +the upper air with startling flutter of +wings and startled squeak of alarm.</p> + +<p>Summer wanes, flowers fade, bird +songs falter to mournful notes of farewell; +but while regretfully we mark the +decline of these golden days, we remember +with a thrill of expectation that they +slope to the golden days of autumn, +wherein the farmer garners his latest +harvest, the sportsman his first worthy +harvest, and that to him that waits, +come all things, and even though he +waits long, may come the best.<span class="pagenum">[118]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> + +<p class="caption">A VOYAGE IN THE DARK</p> + +<p>A few days ago, a friend who is kind +and patient enough to encumber himself +with the care of a blind man and a boy +took me and my twelve-year-old a-fishing. +It was with a fresh realization of my deprivation +that I passed along the watery +way once as familiar as the dooryard path, +but now shrouded for me in a gloom +more impenetrable than the blackness of +the darkest night. I could only guess at +the bends and reaches as the south wind +blew on one cheek or the other, or on my +back, only knowing where the channel +draws near the shore upon which the Indians +encamped in the old days by the +flutter of leaves overbearing the rustle of +rushes. By the chuckle of ripples under +the bow, I guessed when we were in mid-channel; +by the entangled splash of an +oar, when we approached the reedy border +where the water-lilies rode at anchor,<span class="pagenum">[119]</span> +and discharged their subtle freight +of perfume as they tossed in our wake. +I knew by his clatter, drawing nearer +only with our progress, that a kingfisher +was perched on a channel-side fishing-stake, +used in turn by him and bigger +but not more skillful fishers. I heard +his headlong plunge, but whether successful +or not the ensuing clatter did not tell +me, for he has but one voice for all expressions. +Yet as his rattling cry was +kept up till the rough edge of its harshness +was worn away in receding flight, +I fancied he was proclaiming an unusually +successful achievement. For the +sake of his reputation, he would never +make such a fuss over a failure, unless +he was telling, as we do, of the big fish +he just missed catching. At any rate, I +wished him good luck, for who would begrudge +a poor kingfisher such little fish +as he must catch! They would need +years of growth to make them worth our +catching or bragging over the loss of, and +by that time we may be done with fishing.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a roar of multitudinous +wings as a host of redwings upburst<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> +from springing and swaying wild +rice stalks, all of which I saw through +the blackness illumined for an instant +by memory,—the dusky cloud uprising +like the smoke of an explosion, the bent +rice springing up beneath its lifted burden, +the dull-witted or greedy laggards +dribbling upward to join the majority. +My companions exclaimed in one voice at +the rare sight of a white bird in the flock, +and by the same light of memory I also +saw it as I saw one in an autumn forty +years ago, when, with my comrade of +those days, I came "daown the crik" +duck-shooting, or trolling as to-day. +Again and again we saw this phenomenal +bird like a white star twinkling through +a murky cloud. The fitful gleam was +seen day after day, till the north wind +blew him and his cloud away southward.</p> + +<p>The pother of the blackbirds overhead +disturbed the meditations of a bittern, +who, with an alarmed croak, jerked his +ungainly form aloft in a flurry of awkward +wing-beats, and went sagging +across the marshes in search of safer +seclusion. I wished that he might find +it, and escape the ruthless gunners that<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> +will presently come to desolate these +marshes. Very different from his uprising +was that of a pair of wood ducks, +revealing their unsuspected presence +with startling suddenness, as they sprang +from water to air with a splash and +whistle of rapid wings and their squeaking +alarm cry, and then flew swiftly +away, the sibilant wing-beats pulsing out +in the distance. These, too, I wished +might safely run the gauntlet of all the +guns that will be arrayed against them +when the summer truce is broken. If +I had not been mustered out, or if my +boy were mustered in, no doubt I should +feel differently toward the inhabitants +of these marshes. Compulsory abstinence +makes one exceedingly virtuous, +and because I am virtuous there shall be +no cakes and ale for any one.</p> + +<p>The absence of the rail's cackle was +noticeable, a clamor that used to be +provoked at this season by every sudden +noise. We never got sight of the +"ma'sh chickens" as they skulked +among the sedges; and when the birds +were pressed to flight, rarely caught +more than a fleeting glimpse as they<span class="pagenum">[122]</span> +topped the rushes for an instant, and +dropped again into the mazes of the +marsh. But they were always announcing +a numerous if invisible presence +where now not one answered to our +voices or the noise of our oars.</p> + +<p>All this while our trolling gear was in +tow: the boy's a "phantom minnow" +bristling with barbs, a veritable porcupine +fish; mine a fluted spoon. The +larger fish seemed attracted by the better +imitation, or perhaps age and experience +had given them discernment to +shun the other more glaring sham, and +the best of them went to the boy's score; +but the unwise majority of smaller fish +were evidently anxious to secure souvenir +spoons of Little Otter, and in consequence +of that desire I was "high +hook" as to numbers. They were only +pickerel at best, though some of them, +bearing their spots on a green ground, +are honored with the name of "maskalonge" +by our fishermen. A scratch of +the finger-nail across the scaly gill-cover +gives proof enough to convince even a +blind man of the worthlessness of this +claim to distinction.<span class="pagenum">[123]</span></p> + +<p>Once I enjoyed an exaltation of spirit +only to suffer humiliation. There was +a tug at the hooks, so heavy that my +first thought was of a snag, and I was +on the point of calling out to my friend +to stop rowing. Then there was a +slight yielding, and the tremor that tells +unmistakably of a fish. "Now," said I, +with my heart but a little way back of +my teeth, "I am fast to something like +a fish, but I shall never be able to boat +him. He is too big to lift out with +the hooks, and I can't see to get him by +the gills, and so I shall lose him." As +he came in slowly, stubbornly fighting +against every shortening inch of line, I +almost wished he had not been hooked +at all only to be lost at last. When, +after a time, my fish was hauled near +the boat and in sight of my companions, +my catch proved to be no monster, but +a pickerel of very ordinary size hooked +by the belly, and so my hopes and fears +vanished together.</p> + +<p>I think distances are magnified to the +blind, for it seemed twice as far as it did +of old from the East Slang to the South<span class="pagenum">[124]</span> +Slang, as we passed these oddly named +tributaries of Little Otter.</p> + +<p>At last I sniffed the fragrance of +cedars and heard the wash of waves on +the southward-slanted shore of Garden +Island, and these informed me we were +at the lake. In confirmation thereof +was the testimony of my companions, +given out of their light to my darkness, +of an eagle's royal progress through his +ethereal realm, making inspection of his +disputed earthly possession. I was glad +to know that his majesty had escaped +the republican regicides who haunt the +summer shores.</p> + +<p>We made a difficult landing on the +mainland, on the oozy shore of mixed +sawdust and mud, and followed the old +trail to the old camping ground under +the rocks, a place full of pleasant memories +for the elder two of our trio, and offering +to the boy the charms of freshness +and discovery. For him the cliff towered +skyward but little below the eagle's +flight; its tiny caves were unexplored +mysteries, their coral-beaded curtains of +Canada yew and delicate netting of +mountain-fringe strange foreign growths.<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> +Through his undimmed eyes I had +glimpses of those happy shores whereon +the sun always shines and no cloud +arises beyond. What a little way behind +they seem in the voyage that has +grown wearisome, and yet we can never +revisit them for a day nor for an hour, +and it is like a dream that we ever dwelt +there.</p> + +<p>Bearing with us from this port something +not marketable nor even visible, +yet worth carrying home, we reëmbarked, +and the wind, blowing in my +face, informed me we were homeward +bound. One after another, we passed +five boats of fishing parties tied up at as +many stakes, the crews pursuing their +pastime with steadfast patience, as their +intent silence proclaimed. To me they +were as ships passed in the night. I +had no other knowledge of them than +this, except that my friend told me there +was a fat woman in each boat, and that +one of them boasted to us, with motherly +pride, of a big pickerel caught by her +little girl.</p> + +<p>A blended hum of bumblebees droned +in among us, and my companions remarked<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> +that one of the aerial voyagers +had boarded our craft, while I maintained +there were two, which proved to +be the fact; whereupon I argued that +my ears were better than their eyes, but +failed to convince them or even myself. +I welcomed the bees as old acquaintances, +who, in the duck-shooting of past +years, always used to come aboard and +bear us company for awhile, rarely alighting, +but tacking from stem to stern on a +cruise of inspection, till at last, satisfied +or disappointed, they went booming out +of sight and hearing over marshfuls of +blue spikes of pickerel weed and white +trinities of arrowhead. I cannot imagine +why bees should be attracted to the barrenness +of a boat, unless by a curiosity +to explore such strange floating islands, +though their dry wood promises neither +leaf nor bloom.</p> + +<p>I hear of people every year who forsake +leafage and bloom to search the +frozen desolation of the polar north for +the Lord knows what, and I cease to +wonder at the bees, when men so waste +the summers that are given them to enjoy +if they will but bide in them.<span class="pagenum">[127]</span></p> + +<p>We passed many new houses of the +muskrats, who are building close to the +channel this year in prophecy of continued +low water. But muskrats are +not infallible prophets, and sometimes +suffer therefor in starvation or drowning. +The labor of the night-workers was suspended +in the glare of the August afternoon, +and their houses were as silent as +if deserted, though we doubted not there +were happy households inside them, untroubled +by dreams of famine or deluge, +or possibly of the unmercifulness of +man, though that seems an abiding terror +with our lesser brethren. Winter +before last the marshes were frozen to +the bottom, blockading the muskrats in +their houses, where entire families perished +miserably after being starved to +cannibalism. Some dug out through +the house roofs, and wandered far across +the desolate wintry fields in search of +food. Yet nature, indifferent to all +fates, has so fostered them since that +direful season that the marshy shores +are populous again with sedge-thatched +houses.</p> + +<p>As we neared our home port we met<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> +two trollers, one of whom lifted up +for envious inspection a lusty pickerel. +"He's as big as your leg," my friend +replied to my inquiry concerning its +dimensions, and in aid of my further inquisitiveness +asked the lucky captor how +much the fish would weigh. "Wal, I +guess he ought to weigh abaout seven +pounds," was answered, after careful +consideration. We learned afterwards +that its actual weight was nine pounds, +and I set that man down as a very honest +angler.</p> + +<p>Presently our boat ran her nose into +the familiar mire of well-named Mud +Landing, and we exchanged oars for +legs, which we plied with right good +will, for a thunderstorm was beginning +to bellow behind us.<span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE</p> + +<p>A thin column of smoke seen rising +lazily among the leafy trees and fading +to a wavering film in the warm morning +air or the hotter breath of noon, a flickering +blaze kindling in the sultry dusk +on some quiet shore, mark the place of +the summer camp-fire.</p> + +<p>It is not, like the great hospitable +flare and glowing coals of the autumn +and winter camp-fires, the centre to +which all are drawn, about which the +life of the camp gathers, where joke and +repartee flash to and fro as naturally and +as frequently as its own sparks fly upward, +where stories come forth as continuously +as the ever-rising volume of +smoke.</p> + +<p>Rather it is avoided and kept aloof +from, held to only by the unhappy +wretch upon whom devolves the task of +tending the pot and frying-pan, and he<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> +hovers near it fitfully, like a moth about +a candle, now backing away to mop his +hot face, now darting into the torrid +circle to turn a fish or snatch away a +seething pot or sizzling pan. Now and +then the curious and hungry approach to +note with what skill or speed the cookery +is progressing, but they are content to +look on at a respectful distance and to +make suggestions and criticisms, but not +to interfere with aid. The epicurean +smoker, who holds that the finest flavor +of tobacco is evoked only by coal or blazing +splinter, steals down upon the windward +side and snatches a reluctant ember +or an elusive flame that flickers out +on the brink of the pipe bowl, but most +who burn the weed are content now to +kindle it with the less fervid flame of a +match.</p> + +<p>And yet this now uncomfortable necessity +is still the heart of the camp, +which without it would be but a halting +place for a day, where one appeases hunger +with a cold bite and thirst with +draughts of tepid water, and not a temporary +home where man has his own +fireside, though he care not to sit near<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> +it, and feasts full on hot viands and refreshes +himself with the steaming cup +that cheers but not inebriates.</p> + +<p>Its smoke drifted far through the +woods may prove a pungent trail, scented +out among the odors of balsams and the +perfume of flowers that shall lead hither +some pleasant stranger or unexpected +friend, or its firefly glow, flashing but +feebly through the gloaming, may be a +beacon that shall bring such company. +In its praise may also be said that the +summer camp-fire demands no laborious +feeding nor careful tending, is always a +servant, seldom a master.<span class="pagenum">[132]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE RACCOON</p> + +<p>Summer is past its height. The songless +bobolink has forsaken the shorn +meadow. Grain fields, save the battalioned +maize, have fallen from gracefulness +and beauty of bending heads and ripple +of mimic waves to bristling acres of +stubble. From the thriftless borders of +ripening weeds busy flocks of yellowbirds +in faded plumage scatter in sudden +flight at one's approach like upblown +flurries of dun leaves. Goldenrod gilds +the fence-corners, asters shine in the +dewy borders of the woods, sole survivors +of the floral world save the persistent +bloom of the wild carrot and succory—flourishing +as if there had never +been mower or reaper—and the white +blossoms of the buckwheat crowning the +filling kernels. The fervid days have +grown preceptibly shorter, the lengthening +nights have a chilly autumnal<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> +flavor, and in the cool dusk the katydids +call and answer one to another out +of their leafy tents, and the delicate +green crickets that Yankee folks call +August pipers play their monotonous +tune. Above the katydid's strident cry +and the piper's incessant notes, a wild +tremulous whinny shivers through the +gloom at intervals, now from a distant +field or wood, now from the near orchard. +One listener will tell you that +it is only a little screech owl's voice, another +that it is the raccoon's rallying +cry to a raid on the cornfield. There +is endless disputation concerning it and +apparently no certainty, but the raccoon +is wilder than the owl, and it is +pleasanter to believe that it is his voice +that you hear.</p> + +<p>The corn is in the milk; the feast is +ready. The father and mother and well +grown children, born and reared in the +cavern of a ledge or hollow tree of a +swamp, are hungry for sweets remembered +or yet untasted, and they are +gathering to it, stealing out of the thick +darkness of the woods and along the +brookside in single file, never stopping to<span class="pagenum">[134]</span> +dig a fiery wake-robin bulb nor to catch +a frog nor harry a late brood of ground-nesting +birds, but only to call some laggard, +or distant clansfolk. So one fancies, +when the quavering cry is repeated +and when it ceases, that all the free-booters +have gained the cornfield and are +silent with busy looting. Next day's examination +of the field may confirm the +fancy with the sight of torn and trampled +stalks and munched ears. These are +the nights when the coon hunter is +abroad and the robbers' revel is likely +to be broken up in a wild panic.</p> + +<p>Hunted only at night, to follow the +coon the boldest rider must dismount, +yet he who risks neck and limbs, or +melts or freezes for sport's sake, and +deems no sport manly that has not a +spice of danger or discomfort in it, must +not despise this humble pastime for such +reason.</p> + +<p>On leaving the highway that leads +nearest to the hunting ground, the way +of the coon hunters takes them, in darkness +or feeble lantern light, over rough +and uncertain footing, till the cornfield's +edge is reached and the dogs cast off.<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> +Away go the hounds, their course only +indicated by the rustling of the corn +leaves, as they range through the field, +until one old truth-teller gives tongue +on the track of a coon who perhaps has +brought his whole family out on a nocturnal +picnic. The hounds sweep straight +away, in full cry, on the hot scent to hill +or swamp, where their steadfast baying +proclaims that the game is treed.</p> + +<p>Then follows a pell-mell scramble toward +the musical uproar. Stones, cradle +knolls, logs, stumps, mud holes, +brambles and all the inanimate enemies +that lie in wait for man when he hastens +in the dark, combine to trip, bump, +bruise, sprain, scratch, and bemire the +hurrying hunters.</p> + +<p>Then when all have gathered at the +centre of attraction, where the excited +hounds are raving about the boll of some +great tree, the best and boldest climber +volunteers to go aloft into the upper +darkness and shake the quarry down or +shoot him if may be. If he succeeds +in accomplishing the difficult task, what +a mêlée ensues when the coon crashes +through the branches to the ground and<span class="pagenum">[136]</span> +becomes the erratic centre of the wild +huddle of dogs and men.</p> + +<p>Fewer voices never broke the stillness +of night with sounds more unearthly +than the medley of raging, yelping, +growling, cheering, and vociferous orders +given forth by dogs, coon, and hunters, +while hillside and woodland toss to and +fro a more discordant badinage of echo. +The coon is not a great beast, but a +tough and sharp-toothed one, who carries +beneath his gray coat and fat ribs a stout +heart and wonderful vitality; and a +tussle with a veteran of the tribe of +cornfield robbers tests the pluck of the +dogs.</p> + +<p>If the coon takes refuge in a tree too +tall and limbless for his pursuers to +climb, there is nothing for them but to +keep watch and ward till daylight discovers +him crouched on his lofty perch. +A huge fire enlivens the long hours of +guard keeping. A foraging party repairs +to the nearest cornfield for roasting ears, +and the hunters shorten the slow nighttide +with munching scorched corn, +sauced by joke and song and tales of the +coon hunts of bygone years.<span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p> + +<p>The waning moon throbs into view +above a serrated hill-crest, then climbs +the sky, while the shadows draw eastward, +then pales in the dawn, and when +it is like a blotch of white cloud in the +zenith, a sunrise gun welcomes day and +brings the coon tumbling to earth. Or +perhaps not a coon, but some vagrant +house cat is the poor reward of the long +watch. Then the weary hunters plod +homeward to breakfast and to nail their +trophies to the barn door.</p> + +<p>When the sweet acorns, dropping in +the frosty night, tempt the coon to a +later feast, there is as good sport and +primer peltry. In any of the nights +wherein this sport may be pursued, the +man of lazy mould and contemplative +mind loves best the hunt deemed unsuccessful +by the more ardent hunters, +when the hounds strike the trail of a +wandering fox and carry a tide of wild +music, flooding and ebbing over valley +and hilltop, while the indolent hunter +reclines at ease, smoking his pipe and +listening, content to let more ambitious +hunters stumble over ledges and wallow +through swamps.<span class="pagenum">[138]</span></p> + +<p>When winter begins, the coon retires +for a long and comfortable sleep, warmly +clothed in fur and fat. A great midwinter +thaw awakens him, fooled out of +a part of his nap by the siren song of +the south wind, and he wanders forth in +quest of something. If food, he never +finds it, and as far as I have been able +to determine, does not even seek it. I +should imagine, reading the record of his +journey as he prints it in his course from +hollow tree or hollow ledge to other +hollow trees and hollow ledges, that he +had been awakened to a sense of loneliness +and was seeking old friends in +familiar haunts, with whom to talk over +last year's cornfield raids and frogging +parties in past summer nights—perchance +to plan future campaigns. Or is +it an inward fire and no outward warmth +that has thawed him into this sudden +activity? Has he, like many of his biggers +and betters, gone a-wooing in winter +nights?</p> + +<p>At such times the thrifty hunter who +has an eye more to profit and prime peltry +than to sport, goes forth armed only +with an axe. Taking the track of the<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> +wanderers, he follows it to their last +tarrying place. If it be a cave, they are +safe except from the trap when they +come forth to begin another journey; but +if it is a hollow tree, woe betide the poor +wretches. The hunter saps the foundation +of their castle, and when it crashes +to its fall he ignominiously knocks the +dazed inmates on the head. It is fashionable +for others to wear the coat which +becomes the raccoon much better than +them and which once robbed of he can +never replace.</p> + +<p>During the spring and early summer +little is seen of the raccoon. His tracks +may be found on a sandy shore or margin +of a brook and occasionally his call can +be heard, if indeed it be his, but beyond +these he gives little evidence of his existence. +There must be nocturnal excursions +for food, but for the most part old +and young abide in their rocky fortress +or wooden tower. They are reported to +be a playful family, and the report is +confirmed by the pranks of domesticated +members of it. Sometimes there will be +found in one of their ravaged homes a +rounded gnarl worn smooth with much<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> +handling or pawing, the sole furniture +of the house and evidently a plaything.</p> + +<p>This little brother of the bear is one +of the few remaining links that connect +us with the old times, when there were +trees older than living men, when all the +world had not entered for the race to +gain the prize of wealth, or place, or renown; +when it was the sum of all happiness +for some of us to "go a-coonin'." +It is pleasant to see the track of this +midnight prowler, this despoiler of cornfields, +imprinted in the mud of the lane +or along the soft margin of the brook, to +know that he survives, though he may +not be the fittest. When he has gone +forever, those who outlive him will know +whether it was his quavering note that +jarred the still air of the early fall evenings +or if it was only the voice of the +owl—if he too shall not then have gone +the inevitable way of all the wild world.<span class="pagenum">[141]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE</p> + +<p>The depressing opposite of the fire +that is the warm heart of the camp is +the pile of green or rain-soaked fuel that +in spite of all coaxing and nursing refuses +to yield a cheerful flame. Shavings +from the resin-embalmed heart of a +dead pine and scrolls of birch bark fail +to enkindle it to more than flicker and +smoke, while the wet and hungry campers +brood forlornly over the cheerless centre +of their temporary home, with watery +eyes and souls growing sick of camp life.</p> + +<p>Night is falling, and the shadows of +the woods thicken into solid gloom that +teems with mysterious horrors, which +stretch their intangible claws through +the darkness to chill the backs of the +timid with an icy touch, and the silence +is terrible with unuttered howlings of +imaginary beasts.</p> + +<p>Each one is ready to blame the other +for the common discomfort, and all, the<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> +high priest, who so far fails to kindle +the altar fire. He is an impostor, who +should be smothered in the reek of his +own failure. Yet, as the group regard +him with unkind glances and mutterings +of disapproval, he perseveres, feeding +the faint flame with choice morsels of +fat wood and nursing it with his breath, +his bent face and puffed cheeks now a +little lightened, now fading into gloom, +till suddenly the sullenness of the reluctant +fuel is overcome, wings of flame flutter +up the column of smoke, and the +black pile leaps into a lurid tower of +light, from whose peak a white banner +of smoke flaunts upward, saluted by the +waving boughs that it streams among.</p> + +<p>Tent and shanty, familiar trees, and +moving figures with their circle of +grotesque, dancing shadows, spring into +sudden existence out of the blank darkness. +The magic touch of the firelight +dispels every sullen look, warms every +heart to genial comradeship; jokes flash +back and forth merrily, and the camp +pulses again with reawakened cheerful +life. Verily, fire worketh wonders in +divers ways.<span class="pagenum">[143]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> + +<p class="caption">SEPTEMBER DAYS</p> + +<p>September days have the warmth of +summer in their briefer hours, but in +their lengthening evenings a prophetic +breath of autumn. The cricket chirps +in the noontide, making the most of +what remains of his brief life; the bumblebee +is busy among the clover blossoms +of the aftermath; and their shrill +cry and dreamy hum hold the outdoor +world above the voices of the song birds, +now silent or departed.</p> + +<p>What a little while ago they were our +familiars, noted all about us in their accustomed +haunts—sparrow, robin, and +oriole, each trying now and then, as if +to keep it in memory, a strain of his +springtime love song, and the cuckoo +fluting a farewell prophecy of rain. The +bobolinks, in sober sameness of traveling +gear, still held the meadowside thickets +of weeds; and the swallows sat in sedate<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> +conclave on the barn ridge. Then, looking +and listening for them, we suddenly +become aware they are gone; the adobe +city of the eave-dwellers is silent and +deserted; the whilom choristers of the +sunny summer meadows are departed to +a less hospitable welcome in more genial +climes. How unobtrusive was their exodus. +We awake and miss them, or we +think of them and see them not, and +then we realize that with them summer +too has gone.</p> + +<p>This also the wafted thistledown and +the blooming asters tell us, and, though +the woods are dark with their latest +greenness, in the lowlands the gaudy +standard of autumn is already displayed. +In its shadow the muskrat is thatching +his winter home, and on his new-shorn +watery lawn the full-fledged wild duck +broods disport in fullness of feather and +strength of pinion. Evil days are these +of September that now befall them. +Alack, for the callow days of peaceful +summer, when no honest gunner was +abroad, and the law held the murderous +gun in abeyance, and only the keel of +the unarmed angler rippled the still<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> +channel. Continual unrest and abiding +fear are their lot now and henceforth, +till spring brings the truce of close time +to their persecuted race.</p> + +<p>More silently than the fisher's craft +the skiff of the sportsman now invades +the rush-paled thoroughfares. Noiseless +as ghosts, paddler and shooter glide +along the even path till, alarmed by +some keener sense than is given us, up +rise wood duck, dusky duck, and teal +from their reedy cover. Then the ready +gun belches its thunder, and suddenly +consternation pervades the marshes. +All the world has burst forth in a burning +of powder. From end to end, from +border to border, the fenny expanse +roars with discharge and echo, and nowhere +within it is there peace or rest for +the sole of a webbed foot. Even the +poor bittern and heron, harmless and +worthless, flap to and fro from one to +another now unsafe retreat, in constant +danger of death from every booby gunner +who can cover their slow flight.</p> + +<p>The upland woods, too, are awakened +from the slumber of their late summer +days. How silent they had grown when<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> +their songsters had departed, rarely +stirred but by the woodpecker's busy +hammer, the chatter and bark of squirrels, +and the crows making vociferous +proclamation against some winged or +furred enemy. The grouse have waxed +fat among the border patches of berry +bushes, rarely disturbed in the seclusion +of the thickets but by the soft footfall +of the fox, the fleeting shadow of a cruising +hawk, and the halloo of the cowboy +driving home his herd from the hillside +pasture. Now come enemies more relentless +than beast or bird of prey, a +sound more alarming than the cowboy's +distant call—man and his companion +the dog, and the terrible thunder of the +gun. A new terror is revealed to the +young birds, a half-forgotten one brought +afresh to the old. The crows have found +fresh cause for clamor, and the squirrels +lapse into a silence of fear.</p> + +<p>Peace and the quietness of peace have +departed from the realm of the woods, +and henceforth while the green leaves +grow bright as blossoms with the touch +of frost, then brown and sere, and till +long after they lie under the white<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> +shroud of winter, its wild denizens shall +abide in constant fear and unrest.</p> + +<p>So fares it with the wood-folk, these +days of September, wherein the sportsman +rejoiceth with exceeding gladness.<span class="pagenum">[148]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> + +<p class="caption">A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED</p> + +<p>Why kill, for the mere sake of killing +or the exhibition of one's skill, any wild +thing that when alive harms no one and +when killed is of no worth? The more +happy wild life there is in the world, the +pleasanter it is for all of us.</p> + +<p>When one is duck-shooting on inland +waters, sitting alert in the bow of the +skiff with his gun ready for the expected +gaudy wood duck, or plump mallard, or +loud quacking dusky duck, or swift-winged +teal, to rise with a splashing +flutter out of the wild rice, and there is +a sudden beating of broad wings among +the sedges with a startled guttural quack, +and one's heart leaps to his throat and +his gun to his shoulder, and then—only +an awkward bittern climbs the September +breeze with a slow incline, there is +a vengeful temptation to let drive at +the disappointing good-for-nothing. But<span class="pagenum">[149]</span> +why not let the poor fellow go? If you +dropped him back into the marsh to +rot unprofitably there, disdained even by +the mink, unattainable to the scavenger +skunk, what good would it do you? If +he disappointed you, you disturbed him +in his meditations, or in the pursuit of +a poor but honest living. Perhaps a +great heron too intent on his fishing +or frogging, or dozing in the fancied seclusion +of his reedy bower, springs up +within short range and goes lagging +away on his broad vans. He may be +taken home to show, for he is worth +showing even when killed. But if you +wish your friends to see him at his best, +bring them to him and let them see how +well he befits these sedgy levels—a +goodly sight, whether he makes his lazy +flight above them or stands a motionless +sentinel in the oozy shallows. The +marshes would be desolate without him, +or if one desires the charm of loneliness, +his silent presence adds to it.</p> + +<p>A kingfisher comes clattering along +the channel. As he jerks his swift way +over the sluggish water he may test +your marksmanship, but as he hangs<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> +with rapid wing-beats over a school of +minnows, as steadfast for a minute as a +star forever, needing no skill to launch +him to his final unrewarded plunge, do +not kill him! In such waters he takes +no fish that you would, and he enlivens +the scene more than almost any other +frequenter of it, never skulking and hiding, +but with metallic, vociferous clatter +heralding his coming. One never tires +of watching his still mid-air poise, the +same in calm or wind, and his unerring +headlong plunge.</p> + +<p>When one wanders along a willowy +stream with his gun, cautiously approaching +every lily-padded pool and shadowed +bend likely to harbor wood duck or teal, +and finds neither, and his ears begin to +ache for the sound of his gun—if a +green heron flaps off a branch before him +he is sorely tempted to shoot the ungainly +bird, but if the gun must be heard, +let it speak to a stump or a tossed chip, +either as difficult a target as he, and let +the poor harmless little heron live. Uncouth +as he is, he comes in well in the +picture of such a watercourse, which has +done with the worry of turning mills,<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> +left far behind with their noise and bustle +on foaming rapids among the hills, and +crawls now in lazy ease through wide intervales, +under elms and water maples +and thickets of willows.</p> + +<p>On the uplands, where the meadow +lark starts out of the grass with a +sharp, defiant "zeet!" and speeds away +on his steady game-like flight, remember +before you stop it, or try to, of how +little account he is when brought to +bag; and how when the weary days of +winter had passed, his cheery voice welcomed +the coming spring, a little later +than the robin's, a little earlier than +the flicker's cackle; and what an enlivening +dot of color his yellow breast +made where he strutted in the dun, bare +meadows.</p> + +<p>In some States the woodpeckers are +unprotected and are a mark for every +gunner. Their galloping flight tempts +the ambitious young shooter to try his +skill, but they are among the best friends +of the arboriculturist and the fruit-grower, +for though some of them steal +cherries and peck early apples, and one +species sucks the sap of trees, they are<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> +the only birds that search out and kill +the insidious, destructive borer.</p> + +<p>In some States, too, the hare is unprotected +by any law, and it is common custom +to hunt it, even so late as April, for +the mere sake of killing, apparently; or +perhaps the charm of the hound's music, +which makes the butchery of Adirondack +deer so delightful a sport to some, +adds a zest to the slaughter of these innocents—though, +be it said, there is +no comparison in the marksmanship required. +Alive, the northern hare is one +of the most harmless of animals; dead, +he is, in the opinion of most people, one +of the most worthless; so worthless that +hunters frequently leave the result of all +their day's "sport" in the woods where +they were killed. Yet the hare is legitimate +game, and should be hunted +as such, and only in proper seasons, +and not be ruthlessly exterminated. A +woodland stroll is the pleasanter if one +sees a hare there in his brown summer +suit, or white as the snow about him in +his winter furs.</p> + +<p>Where there are no statute laws for +the protection of game and harmless<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> +creatures not so classed, an unwritten +law of common sense, common decency, +and common humanity should be powerful +enough to protect all these. The fox +is an outlaw; it is every one's legal right +to kill him whenever and however he +may, and yet wherever the fox is hunted +with any semblance of fair play, whether +in New England with gun and hound, +or elsewhere with horse and hound, the +man who traps a fox, or kills one unseasonably, +or destroys a vixen and her cubs, +bears an evil reputation. A sentiment +as popular and as potent ought to prevail +to protect those that, though harmless, +are as unshielded by legislative enactments +as the fox, and much less guarded +by natural laws and inborn cunning.<span class="pagenum">[154]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE SKUNK</p> + +<p>Always and everywhere in evil repute +and bad odor, hunted, trapped, and +killed, a pest and a fur-bearer, it is a +wonder that the skunk is not exterminated, +and that he is not even uncommon.</p> + +<p>With an eye to the main chance, the +fur-trapper spares him when fur is not +prime, but when the letter "R" has become +well established in the months the +cruel trap gapes for him at his outgoing +and incoming, at the door of every +discovered burrow, while all the year +round the farmer, sportsman, and poultry-grower +wage truceless war against him.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this general outlawry, +when you go forth of a winter +morning, after a night of thaw or tempered +chill, you see his authentic signature +on the snow, the unmistakable +diagonal row of four footprints each, or<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> +short-spaced alternate tracks, where he +has sallied out for a change from the +subterranean darkness of his burrow, or +from his as rayless borrowed quarters +beneath the barn, to the starlight or pale +gloom of midnight winter landscape.</p> + +<p>More often are you made aware of his +continued survival by another sense than +sight, when his far-reaching odor comes +down the vernal breeze or waft of summer +air, rankly overbearing all the fragrance +of springing verdure, or perfume +of flowers and new-mown hay, and you +well know who has somewhere and somehow +been forced to take most offensively +the defensive.</p> + +<p>It may be said of him that his actions +speak louder than his words. Yet +the voiceless creature sometimes makes +known his presence by sound, and +frightens the belated farm boy, whom +he curiously follows with a mysterious, +hollow beating of his feet upon the +ground.</p> + +<p>Patches of neatly inverted turf in +a grub-infested pasture tell those who +know his ways that the skunk has been +doing the farmer good service here, and<span class="pagenum">[156]</span> +making amends for poultry stealing, +and you are inclined to regard him with +more favor. But when you come upon +the empty shells of a raided partridge +nest, your sportsman's wrath is enkindled +against him for forestalling your +gun. Yet who shall say that you had a +better right to the partridges than he to +the eggs?</p> + +<p>If you are so favored, you can but admire +the pretty sight of the mother with +her cubs basking in a sunny nook or +leading them afield in single file, a black +and white procession.</p> + +<p>If by another name the rose would +smell as sweet, our old acquaintance is +in far better odor for change of appellation +from that so suggestive of his rank +offenses. What beauty of fair faces +would be spoiled with scorn by a hint of +the vulgar name which in unadorned +truth belongs to the handsome glossy +black muff and boa that keep warm those +dainty fingers and swan-like neck. Yet +through the furrier's art and cunning +they undergo a magic transformation +into something to be worn with pride, +and the every-day wear of the despised<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> +outlaw becomes the prized apparel of +the fair lady.</p> + +<p>If unto this humble night wanderer is +vouchsafed a life beyond his brief earthly +existence, imagine him in that unhunted, +trapless paradise of uncounted eggs and +callow nestlings, grinning a wide derisive +smile as he beholds what fools we mortals +be, so fooled by ourselves and one +another.<span class="pagenum">[158]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD</p> + +<p>Some wooden tent-pins inclosing a +few square yards of ground half covered +with a bed of evergreen twigs, matted +but still fresh and odorous, a litter of +paper and powder-smirched rags, empty +cans and boxes, a few sticks of fire wood, +a blackened, primitive wooden crane, with +its half-charred supporting crotches, and +a smouldering heap of ashes and dying +brands, mark the place of a camp recently +deserted.</p> + +<p>Coming upon it by chance, one could +not help a feeling of loneliness, something +akin to that inspired by the cold +hearthstone of an empty house, or the +crumbling foundations of a dwelling long +since fallen to ruin. What days and +nights of healthful life have been spent +here. What happy hours, never to return, +have been passed here. What +jokes have flashed about, what merry<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> +tales have been told, what joyous peals +of laughter rung, where now all is silence. +But no one is there to see it. +A crow peers down from a treetop to +discover what pickings he may glean, +and a mink steals up from the landing, +which bears the keelmarks of lately departed +boats, both distrustful of the old +silence which the place has so suddenly +resumed; and a company of jays flit silently +about, wondering that there are +no intruders to assail with their inexhaustible +vocabulary.</p> + +<p>A puff of wind rustles among the +treetops, disturbing the balance of the +crow, then plunges downward and sets +aflight a scurry of dry leaves, and out +of the gray ashes uncoils a thread of +smoke and spins it off into the haze of +leaves and shadows. The crow flaps in +sudden alarm, the mink takes shelter in +his coign of vantage among the driftwood, +and the jays raise a multitudinous +clamor of discordant outcry. The dry +leaves alight as if by mischievous guidance +of evil purpose upon the dormant +embers, another puff of wind arouses a +flame that first tastes them, then licks<span class="pagenum">[160]</span> +them with an eager tongue, then with +the next eddying breath scatters its +crumbs of sparks into the verge of the +forest. These the rising breeze fans till +it loads itself with a light burden of +smoke, shifted now here, now there, as +it is trailed along the forest floor, now +climbing among the branches, then soaring +skyward.</p> + +<p>Little flames creep along the bodies +of fallen trees and fluffy windrows of +dry leaves, toying like panther kittens +with their assured prey, and then, grown +hungry with such dainty tasting, the +flames upburst in a mad fury of devouring. +They climb swifter than panthers +to treetops, falling back they gnaw savagely +at tree roots, till the ancient lords +of the forest reel and topple and fall before +the gathering wind, and bear their +destroyer still onward.</p> + +<p>The leeward woods are thick with a +blinding, stifling smoke, through which +all the wild creatures of the forest flee +in terror, whither they know not—by +chance to safety, by equal chance perhaps +to a terrible death in the surging deluge +of fire. The billows of flame heave and<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> +dash with a constant insatiate roar, tossing +ever onward a red foam of sparks and +casting a jetsam of lurid brands upon +the ever-retreating strand that is but +touched with the wash of enkindling, +when it is overrun by the sea of fire.</p> + +<p>The ice-cold springs grow hot in its +fierce overwhelming wave, the purling +rills hiss and boil and shrink before it, +then vanish from their seared beds. All +the living greenness of the forest is utterly +consumed—great trees that have +stood like towers, defying the centuries, +with the ephemeral verdure of the +woodland undergrowth; and to mark +the place of all this recent majesty and +beauty, there is but smouldering ruin +and black and ashen waste. Little +farms but lately uncovered to the sun +out of the wilderness, cosy homesteads +but newly builded, are swept away, and +with them cherished hopes and perhaps +precious lives. What irreparable devastation +has been wrought by the camp-fire +run wild!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the careless begetters of +this havoc are making their leisurely +way toward the outer world of civilization,<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> +serenely noting that the woods are +on fire, and complacently congratulating +themselves that the disaster did not come +to spoil their outing; never once thinking +that by a slight exercise of that +care which all men owe the world, this +calamity, which a century cannot repair, +might have been avoided.<span class="pagenum">[163]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE</p> + +<p>A heap of ashes, a few half-burned +brands, a blackened pair of crotched +sticks that mark the place of the once +glowing heart of the camp, furnish food +for the imagination to feed upon or give +the memory an elusive taste of departed +pleasures.</p> + +<p>If you were one of those who saw +its living flame and felt its warmth, the +pleasant hours passed here come back +with that touch of sadness which accompanies +the memory of all departed pleasures +and yet makes it not unwelcome. +What was unpleasant, even what was +almost unendurable, has nearly faded out +of remembrance or is recalled with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>It was ten years ago, and the winds +and fallen leaves of as many autumns +have scattered and covered the gray +heap. If it was only last year, you fancy<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> +that the smell of fire still lingers in the +brands. How vividly return to you the +anxious deliberation with which the site +was chosen with a view to all attainable +comfort and convenience, and the final +satisfaction that followed the establishment +of this short-lived home, short-lived +but yet so much a home during its existence. +Nothing contributed so much to +make it one as the camp-fire. How intently +you watched its first building and +lighting, how labored for its maintenance +with awkwardly-wielded axe, how you inhaled +the odors of its cookery and essayed +long-planned culinary experiments +with extemporized implements, over its +beds of coals, and how you felt the consequent +exaltation of triumph or mortification +of failure.</p> + +<p>All these come back to you, and the +relighting of the fire in the sleepy dawn, +the strange mingling of white sunlight +and yellow firelight when the sun shot +its first level rays athwart the camp, the +bustle of departure for the day's sport, +the pleasant loneliness of camp-keeping +with only the silent woods, the crackling +fire, and your thoughts for company; the<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> +incoming at nightfall and the rekindling +of the fire, when the rosy bud of sleeping +embers suddenly expanded into a great +blossom of light whose petals quivered +and faded and brightened among the encircling +shadows of the woods. You +laugh again at the jokes that ran around +that merry circle and wonder again and +again at the ingenuity with which small +performances were magnified into great +exploits, little haps into strange adventure, +and with which bad shots and poor +catches were excused.</p> + +<p>At last came breaking camp, the desolation +of dismantling and leave-taking. +How many of you will ever meet again? +How many of those merry voices are +stilled forever, from how many of those +happy faces has the light of life faded?</p> + +<p>Who lighted this camp-fire? Years +have passed since it illumined the nightly +gloom of the woods, for moss and lichens +are creeping over the charred back-log. +A green film is spread over the ashes, +and thrifty sprouts are springing up +through them.</p> + +<p>You know that the campers were tent-dwellers, +for there stand the rows of<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> +rotten tent pins inclosing a rusty heap of +mould that once was a fragrant couch of +evergreens inviting tired men to rest,—or +you know they spent their nights in a +shanty, for there are the crumbling walls, +the fallen-in roof of bark which never +again will echo song or jest.</p> + +<p>This pile of fish-bones attests that +they were anglers, and skillful or lucky +ones, for the pile is large. If you are +an ichthyologist, you can learn by these +vestiges of their sport whether they satisfied +the desire of soul and stomach with +the baser or the nobler fishes; perhaps +a rotting pole, breaking with its own +weight, may decide whether they fished +with worm or fly; but whether you relegate +them to the class of scientific or +unscientific anglers, you doubt not they +enjoyed their sport as much in one way +as in the other.</p> + +<p>You know that they were riflemen, for +there is the record of their shots in the +healing bullet wounds on the trunk of a +great beech. For a moment you may +fancy that the woods still echo the laughter +that greeted the shot that just raked<span class="pagenum">[167]</span> +the side of the tree; but it is only the +cackle of a yellow-hammer.</p> + +<p>There is nothing to tell you who they +were, whence they came, or whither they +went; but they were campers, lovers of +the great outdoor world, and so akin to +you, and you bid them hail and farewell +without a meeting.<span class="pagenum">[168]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h2> + +<p class="caption">OCTOBER DAYS</p> + +<p>Fields as green as when the summer +birds caroled above them, woods more +gorgeous with innumerable hues and +tints of ripening leaves than a blooming +parterre, are spread beneath the azure +sky, whose deepest color is reflected +with intenser blue in lake and stream. +In them against this color are set the +scarlet and gold of every tree upon their +brinks, the painted hills, the clear-cut +mountain peaks, all downward pointing +to the depths of this nether sky.</p> + +<p>Overhead, thistledown and the silken +balloon of the milkweed float on their +zephyr-wafted course, silver motes +against the blue; and above them are +the black cohorts of crows in their straggling +retreat to softer climes. Now the +dark column moves steadily onward, now +veers in confusion from some suspected +or discovered danger, or pauses to assail<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> +with a harsh clangor some sworn enemy +of the sable brotherhood. Their gay-clad +smaller cousins, the jays, are for the +most part silently industrious among the +gold and bronze of the beeches, flitting +to and fro with flashes of blue as they +gather mast, but now and then finding +time to scold an intruder with an endless +variety of discordant outcry.</p> + +<p>How sharp the dark shadows are cut +against the sunlit fields, and in their +gloom how brightly shine the first fallen +leaves and the starry bloom of the asters. +In cloudy days and even when rain is +falling the depths of the woods are not +dark, for the bright foliage seems to +give forth light and casts no shadows +beneath the lowering sky.</p> + +<p>The scarlet maples burn, the golden +leaves of poplar and birch shine through +the misty veil, and the deep purple of +the ash glows as if it held a smouldering +fire that the first breeze might fan +into a flame, and through all this luminous +leafage one may trace branch and +twig as a wick in a candle flame. Only +the evergreens are dark as when they +bear their steadfast green in the desolation<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> +of winter, and only they brood +shadows.</p> + +<p>In such weather the woodland air is +laden with the light burden of odor, +the faintly pungent aroma of the ripened +leaves, more subtle than the scent of +pine or fir, yet as apparent to the nostrils, +as delightful and more rare, for in +the round of the year its days are few, +while in summer sunshine and winter +wind, in springtime shower and autumnal +frost, pine, spruce, balsam, hemlock, and +cedar distill their perfume and lavish it +on the breeze or gale of every season.</p> + +<p>Out of the marshes, now changing +their universal green to brown and +bronze and gold, floats a finer odor than +their common reek of ooze and sodden +weeds—a spicy tang of frost-ripened +flags and the fainter breath of the landward +border of ferns; and with these +also is mingled the subtle pungency of +the woodlands, where the pepperidge is +burning out in a blaze of scarlet, and the +yellow flame of the poplars flickers in the +lightest breeze.</p> + +<p>The air is of a temper neither too hot +nor too cold, and in what is now rather<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> +the good gay wood than green wood, +there are no longer pestering insects to +worry the flesh and trouble the spirit. +The flies bask in half torpid indolence, +the tormenting whine of the mosquito is +heard no more. Of insect life one hears +little but the mellow drone of the bumblebee, +the noontide chirp of the cricket, +and the husky rustle of the dragonfly's +gauzy wing.</p> + +<p>Unwise are the tent-dwellers who have +folded their canvas and departed to the +shelter of more stable roof-trees, for these +are days that should be made the most +of, days that have brought the perfected +ripeness of the year and display it in the +fullness of its glory.<span class="pagenum">[172]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h2> + +<p class="caption">A COMMON EXPERIENCE</p> + +<p>The keenest of the sportsman's disappointments +is not a blank day, nor a +series of misses, unaccountable or too +well accountable to a blundering hand or +unsteady nerves, nor adverse weather, +nor gun or tackle broken in the midst of +sport, nor perversity of dogs, nor uncongeniality +of comradeship, nor yet even +the sudden cold or the spell of rheumatism +that prevents his taking the field +on the allotted morning.</p> + +<p>All these may be but for a day. To-morrow +may bring game again to haunts +now untenanted, restore cunning to the +awkward hand, steady the nerves, mend +the broken implement, make the dogs +obedient and bring pleasanter comrades +or the comfortable lonesomeness of one's +own companionship, and to-morrow or +next day or next week the cold and<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> +rheumatic twinges may have passed into +the realm of bygone ills.</p> + +<p>For a year, perhaps for many years, +he has yearned for a sight of some beloved +haunt, endeared to him by old +and cherished associations. He fancies +that once more among the scenes of +his youthful exploits there will return to +him something of the boyish ardor, exuberance +of spirit and perfect freedom +from care that made the enjoyment of +those happy hours so complete. He +imagines that a draught from the old +spring that bubbles up in the shadow of +the beeches or from the moss-brimmed +basin of the trout brook will rejuvenate +him, at least for the moment while its +coolness lingers on his palate, as if he +quaffed Ponce de Leon's undiscovered +fountain. He doubts not that in the +breath of the old woods he shall once +more catch that faint, indescribable, but +unforgotten aroma, that subtle savor of +wildness, that has so long eluded him, +sometimes tantalizing his nostrils with a +touch, but never quite inhaled since its +pungent elixir made the young blood +tingle in his veins.<span class="pagenum">[174]</span></p> + +<p>He has almost come to his own again, +his long-lost possession in the sunny +realm of youth. It lies just beyond the +hill before him, from whose crest he +shall see the nut-tree where he shot his +first squirrel, the southing slope where +the beeches hide the spring, where he +astonished himself with the glory of +killing his first grouse, and he shall see +the glint of the brook flashing down the +evergreen dell and creeping among the +alder copses.</p> + +<p>He does not expect to find so many +squirrels or grouse or trout now as thirty +years ago, when a double gun was a wonder, +and its possession the unrealized +dream of himself and his comrades, and +none of them had ever seen jointed rod +or artificial fly, and dynamite was uninvented. +Yet all the game and fish +cannot have been driven from nor exterminated +in haunts so congenial and +fostering as these, by the modern horde +of gunners and anglers and by the latter-day +devices of destruction, and he +doubts not that he shall find enough to +satisfy the tempered ardor of the graybeard.<span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p> + +<p>Indeed, it is for something better than +mere shooting or fishing that he has +come so far. One squirrel, flicking the +leaves with his downfall, one grouse +plunging to earth midway in his thunderous +flight, one trout caught as he can +catch him, now, will appease his moderate +craving for sport, and best and most +desired of all, make him, for the nonce, a +boy again. He anticipates with quicker +heartbeat the thrill of surprised delight +that choked him with its fullness when +he achieved his first triumph.</p> + +<p>At last the hilltop is gained, but what +unfamiliar scene is this which has taken +the place of that so cherished in his +memory and so longed for? Can that +naked hillside slanting toward him from +the further rim of the valley, forlorn in +the desolation of recent clearing, be the +wooded slope of the other day? Can +the poor, unpicturesque thread of water +that crawls in feeble attenuation between +its shorn, unsightly banks be the wild, +free brook whose voice was a continual +song, every rod of whose amber and silver +course was a picture? Even its fringes of +willow and alders, useful for their shade<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> +and cover when alive, but cut down +worthless even for fuel, have been swept +from its margin by the ruthless besom of +destruction, as if everything that could +beautify the landscape must be blotted +out to fulfill the mission of the spoiler.</p> + +<p>Near it, and sucking in frequent +draughts from the faint stream, is a +thirsty and hungry little sawmill, the +most obtrusive and most ignoble feature +of the landscape, whose beauty its +remorseless fangs have gnawed away. +Every foot of the brook below it is foul +with its castings, and the fragments of +its continual greedy feasting are thickly +strewn far and near. Yet it calls to the +impoverished hills for more victims; its +shriek arouses discordant echoes where +once resounded the music of the brook, +the song of birds, the grouse's drum call, +and the mellow note of the hound.</p> + +<p>Though sick at heart with the doleful +scene, the returned exile descends to his +harried domain hoping that he may yet +find some vestige of its former wealth, +but only more disappointments reward +his quest. Not a trout flashes through +the shrunken pools. The once limpid<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> +spring is a quagmire among rotting +stumps. The rough nakedness of the +hillside is clad only with thistles and +fireweed, with here and there a patch of +blanched dead leaves, dross of the old gold +of the beech's ancient autumnal glory.</p> + +<p>Of all he hoped for nothing is realized, +and he finds only woful change, irreparable +loss. His heart heavy with sorrow +and bursting with impotent wrath +against the ruthless spoiler, he turns his +back forever on the desolated scene of +his boyhood's sports.</p> + +<p>Alas! That one should ever attempt +to retouch the time-faded but beautiful +pictures that the memory holds.<span class="pagenum">[178]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE RED SQUIRREL</p> + +<p>A hawk, flashing the old gold of his +pinions in the face of the sun, flings +down a shrill, husky cry of intense +scorn; a jay scolds like a shrew; from +his safe isolation in the midwater, a loon +taunts you and the awakening winds +with his wild laughter; there is a jeer in +the chuckling diminuendo of the woodchuck's +whistle, a taunt in the fox's +gasping bark as he scurries unseen behind +the veil of night; and a scoff on +hunters and hounds and cornfield owners +is flung out through the gloaming in +the raccoon's quavering cry. But of all +the wild world's inhabitants, feathered or +furred, none outdo the saucy red squirrel +in taunts, gibes, and mockery of their +common enemy.</p> + +<p>He is inspired with derision that is +expressed in every tone and gesture. +His agile form is vibrant with it when<span class="pagenum">[179]</span> +he flattens himself against a tree-trunk, +toes and tail quivering with intensity of +ridicule as fully expressed in every motion +as in his nasal snicker and throaty +chuckle or in the chattering jeer that +he pours down when he has attained a +midway or topmost bough and cocks his +tail with a saucy curve above his arched +back.</p> + +<p>When he persistently retires within +his wooden tower, he still peers out +saucily from his lofty portal, and if he +disappears you may yet hear the smothered +chuckle wherewith he continues to +tickle his ribs. When in a less scornful +mood, he is at least supremely indifferent, +deigning to regard you with but the +corner of an eye, while he rasps a nut +or chips a cone.</p> + +<p>Ordinarily you must be philosophical +or godly to suffer gibes with equanimity, +but you need be neither to endure +the scoffs of this buffoon of the woods +and waysides. They only amuse you +as they do him, and you could forgive +these tricks tenfold multiplied if he had +no worse, and love him if he were but +half as good as he is beautiful.<span class="pagenum">[180]</span></p> + +<p>He exasperates when he cuts off your +half-grown apples and pears in sheer +wantonness, injuring you and profiting +himself only in the pleasure of seeing +and hearing them fall. But you are +heated with a hotter wrath when he reveals +his chief wickedness, and you catch +sight of him stealthily skulking along +the leafy by-paths of the branches, silently +intent on evil deeds and plotting +the murder of callow innocents. Quite +noiseless now, himself, his whereabouts +are only indicated by the distressful outcry +of the persecuted and sympathizing +birds and the fluttering swoops of their +futile attacks upon the marauder. Then +when you see him gliding away, swift +and silent as a shadow, bearing a half-naked +fledgeling in his jaws, if this is +the first revelation of such wickedness, +you are as painfully surprised as if you +had discovered a little child in some +wanton act of cruelty.</p> + +<p>It seems quite out of all fitness of nature +that this merry fellow should turn +murderer, that this dainty connoisseur +of choice nuts and tender buds, and +earliest discoverer and taster of the<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> +maple's sweetness, should become so +grossly carnivorous and savagely bloodthirsty. +But anon he will cajole you +with pretty ways into forgetfulness and +forgiveness of his crimes. You find +yourself offering, in extenuation of his +sins, confession of your own offenses. +Have not you, too, wrought havoc among +harmless broods and brought sorrow to +feathered mothers and woodland homes? +Is he worse than you, or are you better +than he? Against his sins you set his +beauty and tricksy manners, and for them +would not banish him out of the world +nor miss the incomparable touch of wild +life that his presence gives it.<span class="pagenum">[182]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE RUFFED GROUSE</p> + +<p>The woods in the older parts of our +country possess scarcely a trait of the +primeval forest. The oldest trees have +a comparatively youthful appearance, +and are pygmies in girth beside the decaying +stumps of their giant ancestors. +They are not so shagged with moss nor +so scaled with lichens. The forest floor +has lost its ancient carpet of ankle-deep +moss and the intricate maze of fallen +trees in every stage of decay, and looks +clean-swept and bare. The tangle of +undergrowth is gone, many of the species +which composed it having quite disappeared, +as have many of the animals +that flourished in the perennial shade of +the old woods.</p> + +<p>If in their season one sees and hears +more birds among their lower interlaced +branches, he is not likely to catch sight +or sound of many of the denizens of the<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> +old wilderness. No startled deer bounds +away before him, nor bear shuffles awkwardly +from his feast of mast at one's +approach, nor does one's flesh creep at +the howl of the gathering wolves or the +panther's scream or the rustle of his +stealthy footsteps.</p> + +<p>But as you saunter on your devious +way you may hear a rustle of quick feet +in the dry leaves and a sharp, insistent +cry, a succession of short, high-pitched +clucks running into and again out of +a querulous "<i>ker-r-r-r</i>," all expressing +warning as much as alarm. Your ears +guide your eyes to the exact point from +which the sounds apparently come, but +if these are not keen and well trained +they fail to detach any animate form +from the inanimate dun and gray of +dead leaves and underbrush.</p> + +<p>With startling suddenness out of the +monotony of lifeless color in an eddying +flurry of dead leaves, fanned to erratic +flight by his wing-beats, the ruffed +grouse bursts into view, in full flight +with the first strokes of his thundering +pinions, and you have a brief vision of +untamed nature as it was in the old days.<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> +On either side of the vanishing brown +nebula the ancient mossed and lichened +trunks rear themselves again, above it +their lofty ramage veils the sky, beneath +it lie the deep, noiseless cushion of moss, +the shrubs and plants that the old wood +rangers knew and the moose browsed on, +and the tangled trunks of fallen trees. +You almost fancy that you hear the long-ago +silenced voices of the woods, so vividly +does this wild spirit for an instant +conjure up a vision of the old wild world +whereof he is a survival.</p> + +<p>Acquaintance with civilized man has +not tamed him, but has made him the +wilder. He deigns to feed upon apple-tree +buds and buckwheat and woodside +clover, not as a gift, but a begrudged +compensation for what you have taken +from him, and gives you therefor not +even the thanks of familiarity; and notwithstanding +his acquaintance with generations +of your race he will not suffer +you to come so near to him as he would +your grandfather.</p> + +<p>If, when the leaves are falling, you +find him in your barnyard, garden, or +out-house, or on the porch, do not think<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> +he has any intention of associating with +you or your plebeian poultry. You can +only wonder where he found refuge from +the painted shower when all his world +was wooded. If he invites your attendance +at his drum solo, it is only to fool +you with the sight of an empty stage, +for you must be as stealthy and keen-eyed +as a lynx to see his proud display +of distended ruff and wide spread of +barred tail and accelerated beat of wings +that mimic thunder, or see even the +leafy curtain of his stage flutter in the +wind of his swift exit.</p> + +<p>How the definite recognition of his +motionless form evades you, so perfectly +are his colors merged into those of his +environment, whether it be in the flush +greenness of summer, the painted hues +of autumn or its later faded dun and +gray, or in the whiteness of winter. +Among one or the other he is but a clot +of dead leaves, a knot upon a branch, +the gray stump of a sapling protruding +from the snow, or, covered deep in the +unmarked whiteness, he bursts from it +like a mine exploded at your feet, leaving +you agape till he has vanished from<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> +your sight and your ears have caught the +last flick of his wings against the dry +branches.</p> + +<p>In May, his mate sits on her nest, indistinguishable +among the brown leaves +and gray branches about her. Later, +when surprised with her brood, how conspicuous +she makes herself, fluttering +and staggering along the ground, while +her callow chicks, old in cunning though +so lately their eyes first beheld the world, +scatter in every direction like a shattered +globule of quicksilver and magically disappear +where there is no apparent hiding-place. +Did they con the first lesson +of safety in the dark chamber of the egg, +or absorb it with the warmth of the +brooding breast that gave them life?</p> + +<p>Listen, and out of the silence which +follows the noisy dispersion of the family +hear the low sibilant voice of the mother +calling her children to her or cautioning +them to continued hiding. Perhaps you +may see her, alertly skulking among the +underbrush, still uttering that tender, +persuasive cry, so faint that the chirp of +a cricket might overbear it. Scatter her +brood when the members are half grown<span class="pagenum">[187]</span> +and almost as strong of wing as herself, +and you presently hear her softly calling +them and assuring them of her continued +care.</p> + +<p>Among many things that mark the +changing season, is the dispersion of +this wildwood family. Each member is +now shifting for itself in matters of seeking +food, safety, pleasure, and comfort. +You will come upon one in the ferny +undergrowth of the lowland woods where +he is consorting with woodcock, frighten +another from his feast on the fence-side +elderberries, scare one in the thick +shadows of the evergreens, another on +the sparsely wooded steep of a rocky +hillside, and later hear the drum-beat of +a young cock that the soft Indian summer +has fooled into springtime love-making, +and each has the alertness that complete +self-dependence has enforced.</p> + +<p>Still, you may come upon them gathered +in social groups, yet each going his +own way when flushed. Upon rare occasions +you may surprise a grand convention +of all the grouse of the region +congregated on the sunny lee of a hillside. +It is a sight and sound to remember<span class="pagenum">[188]</span> +long, though for the moment you +forget the gun in your hands, when by +ones, twos, and dozens the dusky forms +burst away up wind, down wind, across +wind, signalling their departure with volleys +of intermittent and continuous thunder. +Not many times in your life will +you see this, yet, if but once, you will be +thankful that you have not outlived all +the old world's wildness.<span class="pagenum">[189]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h2> + +<p class="caption">TWO SHOTS</p> + +<p>A boy of fourteen, alert, but too full +of life to move slowly and cautiously, is +walking along an old road in the woods, +a road that winds here and there with +meanderings that now seem vagrant +and purposeless but once led to the various +piles of cordwood and logs for +whose harvesting it was hewn. Goodly +trees have since grown up from saplings +that the judicious axe then scorned. +Beeches, whose flat branches are shelves +of old gold; poplars, turned to towers of +brighter metal by the same alchemy of +autumn; and hemlocks, pyramids of unchanging +green, shadow the leaf-strewn +forest floor and its inconspicuous dotting +of gray and russet stumps. How happy +the boy is in the freedom of the woods; +proud to carry his first own gun, as he +treads gingerly but somewhat noisily +over the fallen leaves and dry twigs,<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> +scanning with quick glances the thickets, +imagining himself the last Mohican on +the warpath, or Leather-Stocking scouting +in the primeval wilderness.</p> + +<p>Under his breath he tells the confiding +chickadees and woodpeckers what +undreamed-of danger they would be in +from such a brave, were he not in pursuit +of nobler game. Then he hears +a sudden rustle of the dry leaves, the +<i>quit! quit!</i> of a partridge, catches a +glimpse of a rapidly running brown object, +which on the instant is launched into +a flashing thunderous flight. Impelled +by the instinct of the born sportsman, +he throws the gun to his shoulder, and +scarcely with aim, but in the direction of +the sound, pulls trigger and fires.</p> + +<p>On the instant he is ashamed of his +impulsive haste, which fooled him into +wasting a precious charge on the inanimate +evergreen twigs and sere leaves +that come dropping and floating down +to his shot, and is thankful that he is +the only witness of his own foolishness.</p> + +<p>But what is that? Above the patter +and rustle of falling twigs and leaves +comes a dull thud, followed by the rapid<span class="pagenum">[191]</span> +beat of wings upon the leaf-strewn earth. +With heart beating as fast he runs toward +the sound, afraid to believe his senses, +when he sees a noble grouse fluttering +out feebly his last gasp. He cannot be +sure that it is not all a dream that may +vanish in a breath, till he has the bird +safe in his hand, and then he is faint +with joy. Was there ever such a shot? +Would that all the world were here to +see, for who can believe it just for the +telling? There never will be another +such a bird, nor such a shot, for him. +He fires a dozen ineffectual ones at fair +marks that day, but the glory of that +one shot would atone for twice as many +misses, and he need not tell of them, +only of this, whereof he bears actual +proof, though he himself can hardly accept +it, till again and again he tests it by +admiring look and touch.</p> + +<p>Years after the killing of grouse on +the wing has become a matter-of-course +occurrence in his days of upland shooting, +the memory of this stands clearest +and best. Sixty years later the old +wood road winds through the same +scene, by some marvel of kindliness or<span class="pagenum">[192]</span> +oversight, untouched by the devastating +axe, unchanged but by the forest growth +of half a century and its seemly and +decorous decay. A thicker screen of +undergrowth borders the more faintly +traced way. The golden-brown shelves +of the beech branches sweep more +broadly above it, the spires of the evergreens +are nearer the sky, and the yellow +towers of the poplars are builded +higher, but they are the same trees and +beneath them may yet be seen the gray +stumps and trunks mouldered to russet +lines, of their ancient brethren who fell +when these were saplings.</p> + +<p>The gray-bearded man who comes +along the old wood road wonders at the +little change so many years have made +in the scene of the grand achievements +of his youth, and in his mind he runs +over the long calendar to assure himself +that so many autumns have glowed +and faded since that happy day. How +can he have grown old, his ear dull to +the voices of the woods, his sight dim +with the slowly but surely falling veil of +coming blindness, so that even now the +road winds into a misty haze just before<span class="pagenum">[193]</span> +him, yet these trees be young and +lusty?</p> + +<p>As they and the unfaded page of memory +record the years, it was but a little +while ago that his heart was almost +bursting with pride of that first triumph. +Would that he might once more feel that +delicious pang of joy.</p> + +<p>Hark! There is the <i>quit! quit!</i> of +a grouse, and there another and another, +and the patter and rustle of their retreating +footsteps, presently launching +into sudden flight, vaguely seen in swift +bolts of gray, hurtling among gray tree +trunks and variegated foliage. True to +the old instinct his gun leaps to his +shoulder, and he fires again and again +at the swift target. But the quick eye +no longer guides the aim, the timely +finger no longer pulls the trigger, and +the useless pellets waste themselves on +the leaves and twigs.</p> + +<p>The woods are full of grouse, as if all +the birds of the region had congregated +here to mock his failing sight and skill. +On every side they burst away from him +like rockets, and his quick but futile +charges in rapid succession are poured<span class="pagenum">[194]</span> +in their direction, yet not a bird falls, +nor even a feather wavers down through +the still October air. His dim eyes refuse +to mark down the birds that alight +nearest; he can only vaguely follow their +flight by the whirring rush of wings and +the click of intercepting branches.</p> + +<p>He is not ashamed of his loss of skill, +only grieved to know that his shooting +days are over, yet he is glad there is +no one near to see his failure. He +makes renunciation of all title to the +name of a crack shot, too well knowing +that this is no brief lapse of skill, +but the final, inevitable falling off of the +quick eye and sure hand. Slowly and +sadly he makes his way to where the +shaded path merges into the sunny +clearing. There, from the cover of the +last bush, a laggard bird springs as if +thrown from a catapult, describing in +his flight an arc of a great circle, and +clearly defined against the steel-blue +sky.</p> + +<p>Again the gun springs instinctively to +the shoulder, the instantaneous aim is +taken well ahead on the line of flight, +the trigger pressed in the nick of time,<span class="pagenum">[195]</span> +the charge explodes, and out of a cloud +of feathers drifting and whirling in the +eddies of his own wing-beats, the noble +bird sweeps downward in the continuation +of the course that ends with a dull +thud on the pasture sward.</p> + +<p>The old sportsman lifts his clean-killed +bird without a thrill of exultation—he +is only devoutly thankful for the +happy circumstance which made successful +the last shot he will ever fire, +and that not as a miss he may remember +it. Henceforth untouched by him +his gun shall hang upon the wall, its +last use linked with the pleasant memory +of his last shot.<span class="pagenum">[196]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL</h2> + +<p class="caption">NOVEMBER DAYS</p> + +<p>In a midsummer sleep one dreams of +winter, its cold, its silence and desolation +all surrounding him; then awakes, glad +to find himself in the reality of the light +and warmth of summer.</p> + +<p>Were we dreaming yesterday of woods +more gorgeous in their leafage than a +flower garden in the flush of profusest +bloom, so bright with innumerable tints +that autumnal blossoms paled beside +them as stars at sunrise? Were we +dreaming of air soft as in springtime, of +the gentle babble of brooks, the carol of +bluebirds, the lazy chirp of crickets, and +have we suddenly awakened to be confronted +by the desolation of naked forests, +the more forlorn for the few tattered +remnants of gay apparel that flutter in +the bleak wind? To hear but the sullen +roar of the chill blast and the clash of +stripped boughs, the fitful scurry of wind-swept<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> +leaves and the raving of swollen +streams, swelling and falling as in changing +stress of passion, and the heavy +leaden patter of rain on roof and sodden +leaves and earth?</p> + +<p>Verily, the swift transition is like a +pleasant dream with an unhappy awakening. +Yet not all November days are +dreary. Now the sun shines warm from +the steel-blue sky, its eager rays devour +the rime close on the heels of the retreating +shadows, and the north wind sleeps. +The voice of the brimming stream falls +to an even, softer cadence, like the murmur +of pine forests swept by the light +touch of a steady breeze.</p> + +<p>Then the wind breathes softly from +the south, and there drifts with it from +warmer realms, or arises at its touch +from the earth about us, or falls from +the atmosphere of heaven itself, not +smoke, nor haze, but something more +ethereal than these: a visible air, balmy +with odors of ripeness as the breath of +June with perfume of flowers. It pervades +earth and sky, which melt together +in it, till the bounds of neither are discernible, +and blends all objects in the<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> +landscape beyond the near foreground, +till nothing is distinct but some golden +gleam of sunlit water, bright as the orb +that shines upon it. Flocks of migrating +geese linger on the stubble fields, and +some laggard crows flap lazily athwart +the sky or perch contentedly upon the +naked treetops as if they cared to seek +no clime more genial. The brief heavenly +beauteousness of Indian summer +has fallen upon the earth, a few tranquil +days of ethereal mildness dropped +into the sullen or turbulent border of +winter.</p> + +<p>In November days, as in all others, +the woods are beautiful to the lover of +nature and to the sportsman who in +their love finds the finer flavor of his +pastime. Every marking of the gray +trunks, each moss-patch and scale of +lichen on them, is shown more distinctly +now in the intercepted light, and the +delicate tracery of the bare branches +and their netted shadows on the rumpled +carpet of the forest floor, have a +beauty as distinctive as the fullness of +green or frost-tinted leafage and its silhouette +of shade.<span class="pagenum">[199]</span></p> + +<p>No blossom is left in woods or fields, +save where in the one the witch-hazel +unfolds its unseasonable flowers yellow +beneath cold skies, or a pink blossom of +herb-robert holds out with modest bravery +in a sheltered cranny of the rocks; +and where in the other, the ghostly +bloom of everlasting rustles above the +leafless stalks in the wind-swept pastures. +There are brighter flashes of color in +the sombre woods where the red winter-berries +shine on their leafless stems and +the orange and scarlet clusters of the +twining bitter-sweet light up the gray +trellis of the vagrant climber.</p> + +<p>No sense of loss or sadness oppresses +the soul of the ardent sportsman as he +ranges the unroofed aisles alert for the +wary grouse, the skulking woodcock, +full-grown and strong of wing and keen-eyed +for every enemy, or the hare flashing +his half-donned winter coat among +the gray underbrush as he bounds away +before the merry chiding of the beagles. +The brown monotony of the marshes is +pleasant to him as green fields, while the +wild duck tarries in the dark pools and +the snipe probes the unfrozen patches of<span class="pagenum">[200]</span> +ooze. To him all seasons are kind, all +days pleasant, wherein he may pursue +his sport, though the rain pelt him, chill +winds assail him, or the summer sun +shower upon him its most fervent rays, +and in these changeful days of November +he finds his full measure of content.<span class="pagenum">[201]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a>XLI</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE MUSKRAT</p> + +<p>A little turning of nature from her +own courses banishes the beaver from +his primal haunts, but his less renowned +and lesser cousin, the muskrat, philosophically +accommodates himself to the +changed conditions of their common foster +mother and still clings fondly to her +altered breast.</p> + +<p>The ancient forests may be swept +away and their successors disappear, till +there is scarcely left him a watersoaked +log to use as an intermediate port in his +coastwise voyages; continual shadow may +give place to diurnal sunshine, woodland +to meadow and pasture, the plough tear +the roof of his underground home, and +cattle graze where once only the cloven +hoofs of the deer and the moose trod the +virgin mould, yet he holds his old place.</p> + +<p>In the springtides of present years as +in those of centuries past his whining<span class="pagenum">[202]</span> +call echoes along the changed shores, +his wake seams with silver the dark garment +of the water, and his comically +grim visage confronts you now as it did +the Waubanakee bowmen in the old days +when the otter and the beaver were his +familiars.</p> + +<p>Unlike the beaver's slowly maturing +crops, his food supply is constantly provided +in the annual growth of the +marshes. Here in banks contiguous +to endless store of succulent sedge and +lily roots and shell-cased tidbits of mussels, +he tunnels his stable water-portaled +home, and out there, by the channel's +edge, builds his sedge-thatched hut before +the earliest frost falls upon the +marshes. In its height, some find prophecy +of high or low water, and in the +thickness of its walls the forecast of a +mild or severe winter, but the prophet +himself is sometimes flooded out of his +house, sometimes starved and frozen +in it.</p> + +<p>In the still, sunny days between the +nights of its unseen building, the blue +spikes of the pickerel-weed and the +white trinities of the arrow-head yet<span class="pagenum">[203]</span> +bloom beside it. Then in the golden +and scarlet brightness of autumn the departing +wood drake rests on the roof to +preen his plumage, and later the dusky +duck swims on its watery lawn. Above +it the wild geese harrow the low, cold +arch of the sky, the last fleet of sere +leaves drifts past it in the bleak wind, +and then ice and snow draw the veil of +the long winter twilight over the muskrat's +homes and haunts.</p> + +<p>These may be gloomy days he spends +groping in the dark chambers of his hut +and burrow, or gathering food in the +dimly lighted icy water, with never a +sight of the upper world nor ever a sunbeam +to warm him.</p> + +<p>But there are more woful days when +the sun and the sky are again opened to +him, and he breathes the warm air of +spring, hears the blackbirds sing and the +bittern boom. For, amid all the gladness +of nature's reawakened life, danger +lurks in all his paths; the cruel, hungry +trap gapes for him on every jutting log, +on every feeding-bed, even in the doorway +of his burrow and by the side of his +house.<span class="pagenum">[204]</span></p> + +<p>The trapper's skiff invades all his +pleasant waters; on every hand he hears +the splash of its paddles, the clank of its +setting pole, and he can scarcely show +his head above water but a deadly shower +of lead bursts upon it. He hears the +simulated call of his beloved, and voyaging +hot-hearted to the cheating tryst +meets only death.</p> + +<p>At last comes the summer truce and +happy days of peace in the tangled jungle +of the marsh, with the wild duck +and bittern nesting beside his watery +path, the marsh wren weaving her rushy +bower above it.</p> + +<p>So the days of his life go on, and the +days of his race continue in the land +of his unnumbered generations. Long +may he endure to enliven the drear +tameness of civilization with a memory +of the world's old wildness.<span class="pagenum">[205]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a>XLII</h2> + +<p class="caption">NOVEMBER VOICES</p> + +<p>With flowers and leaves, the bird +songs have faded out, and the hum and +chirp of insect life, the low and bleat of +herds and flocks afield, and the busy +sounds of husbandry have grown infrequent. +There are lapses of such silence +that the ear aches for some audible signal +of life; and then to appease it there +comes with the rising breeze the solemn +murmur of the pines like the song of +the sea on distant shores, the sibilant +whisper of the dead herbage, the clatter +of dry pods, and the fitful stir of fallen +leaves, like a scurry of ghostly feet fleeing +in affright at the sound of their own +passage.</p> + +<p>The breeze puffs itself into a fury of +wind, and the writhing branches shriek +and moan and clash as if the lances of +phantom armies were crossed in wild +mêlée.<span class="pagenum">[206]</span></p> + +<p>The woods are full of unlipped voices +speaking one with another in pleading, +in anger, in soft tones of endearment; +and one hears his name called so distinctly +that he answers and calls again, +but no answer is vouchsafed him, only +moans and shrieks and mocking laughter, +till one has enough of wild voices and +longs for a relapse of silence.</p> + +<p>More softly it is broken when through +the still air comes the cheery note of +the chickadee and the little trumpet +of his comrade the nuthatch and far +away the muffled beat of the grouse's +drum, or from a distance the mellow +baying of a hound and its answering +echoes, swelling and dying on hilltop +or glen, or mingling in melodious confusion.</p> + +<p>From skyward comes the clangor of +clarions, wild and musical, proclaiming +the march of gray cohorts of geese advancing +southward through the hills and +dales of cloudland. There come, too, +the quick whistling beat of wild ducks' +pinions, the cry of a belated plover, and +the creaking voice of a snipe. Then the<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> +bawling of a ploughman in a far-off field—and +farther away the rumble and shriek +of a railroad train—brings the listening +ear to earth again and its plodding busy +life.<span class="pagenum">[208]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a>XLIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THANKSGIVING</p> + +<p>Doubtless many a sportsman has +bethought him that his Thanksgiving +turkey will have a finer flavor if the +feast is prefaced by a few hours in the +woods, with dog and gun. Meaner fare +than this day of bounty furnishes forth is +made delicious by such an appetizer, and +the Thanksgiving feast will be none the +worse for it.</p> + +<p>What can be sweeter than the wholesome +fragrance of the fallen leaves? +What more invigorating than the breath +of the two seasons that we catch: here +in the northward shade of a wooded hill +the nipping air of winter, there where +the southern slope meets the sun the +genial warmth of an October day. Here +one's footsteps crunch sharply the frozen +herbage and the ice-bearded border of a +spring's overflow; there splash in thawed +pools and rustle softly among the dead +leaves.<span class="pagenum">[209]</span></p> + +<p>The flowers are gone, but they were +not brighter than the winter berries and +bittersweet that glow around one. The +deciduous leaves are fallen and withered, +but they were not more beautiful than +the delicate tracery of their forsaken +branches, and the steadfast foliage of +the evergreens was never brighter. The +song-birds are singing in southern woods, +but chickadee, nuthatch, and woodpecker +are chatty and companionable +and keep the woods in heart with a stir +of life.</p> + +<p>Then from overhead or underfoot a +ruffed grouse booms away into the gray +haze of branches, and one hears the +whirr and crash of his headlong flight +long after he is lost to sight, perchance +long after the echo of a futile shot has +died away. Far off one hears the intermittent +discharge of rifles where the +shooters are burning powder for their +Thanksgiving turkey, and faintly from +far away comes the melancholy music of +a hound. Then nearer and clearer, then +a rustle of velvet-clad feet, and lo, reynard +himself, the wildest spirit of the +woods, materializes out of the russet indistinctness<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> +and flashes past, with every +sense alert. Then the hound goes by, +and footstep, voice, and echo sink into +silence. For silence it is, though the +silver tinkle of the brook is in it, and the +stir of the last leaf shivering forsaken on +its bough.</p> + +<p>In such quietude one may hold heartfelt +thanksgiving, feasting full upon a +crust and a draught from the icy rivulet, +and leave rich viands and costly wines +for the thankless surfeiting of poorer +men.<span class="pagenum">[211]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a>XLIV</h2> + +<p class="caption">DECEMBER DAYS</p> + +<p>Fewer and more chill have become +the hours of sunlight, and longer stretch +the noontide shadows of the desolate +trees athwart the tawny fields and the +dead leaves that mat the floor of the +woods.</p> + +<p>The brook braids its shrunken strands +of brown water with a hushed murmur +over a bed of sodden leaves between +borders of spiny ice crystals, or in the +pools swirl in slow circles the imprisoned +fleets of bubbles beneath a steadfast roof +of glass. Dark and sullen the river +sulks its cheerless way, enlivened but by +the sheldrake that still courses his prey +in the icy water, and the mink that like +a fleet black shadow steals along the +silent banks. Gaudy wood duck and +swift-winged teal have long since departed +and left stream and shore to these +marauders and to the trapper, who now +gathers here his latest harvest.<span class="pagenum">[212]</span></p> + +<p>The marshes are silent and make no +sign of life, though beneath the domes +of many a sedge-built roof the unseen +muskrats are astir, and under the icy +cover of the channels fare to and fro on +their affairs of life, undisturbed by any +turmoil of the upper world.</p> + +<p>When the winds are asleep the lake +bears on its placid breast the moveless +images of its quiet shores, deserted now +by the latest pleasure seekers among +whose tenantless camps the wild wood-folk +wander as fearlessly as if the foot of +man had never trodden here. From the +still midwaters far away a loon halloos +to the winds to come forth from their +caves, and yells out his mad laughter +in anticipation of the coming storm. A +herald breeze blackens the water with +its advancing steps, and with a roar of +its trumpets the angry wind sweeps +down, driving the white-crested ranks of +waves to assault the shores. Far up the +long incline of pebbly beaches they rush, +and leaping up the walls of rock hang +fetters of ice upon the writhing trees. +Out of the seething waters arise lofty +columns of vapor, which like a host of<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> +gigantic phantoms stalk, silent and majestic, +above the turmoil, till they fall in +wind-tossed showers of frost flakes.</p> + +<p>There are days when almost complete +silence possesses the woods, yet listening +intently one may hear the continual +movement of myriads of snow fleas pattering +on the fallen leaves like the soft +purr of such showers as one might imagine +would fall in Lilliput.</p> + +<p>With footfall so light that he is seen +close at hand sooner than heard, a hare +limps past; too early clad in his white +fur that shall make him inconspicuous +amid the winter snow, his coming shines +from afar through the gray underbrush +and on the tawny leaves. Unseen amid +his dun and gray environment, the ruffed +grouse skulks unheard, till he bursts away +in thunderous flight. Overhead, invisible +in the lofty thicket of a hemlock's +foliage, a squirrel drops a slow patter of +cone chips, while undisturbed a nuthatch +winds his spiral way down the smooth +trunk. Faint and far away, yet clear, +resound the axe strokes of a chopper, +and at intervals the muffled roar of a +tree's downfall.<span class="pagenum">[214]</span></p> + +<p>Silent and moveless cascades of ice +veil the rocky steeps where in more +genial days tiny rivulets dripped down +the ledges and mingled their musical +tinkle with the songs of birds and the +flutter of green leaves.</p> + +<p>Winter berries and bittersweet still +give here and there a fleck of bright +color to the universal gray and dun of +the trees, and the carpet of cast-off +leaves and the dull hue of the evergreens +but scarcely relieve the sombreness of +the woodland landscape.</p> + +<p>Spanning forest and field with a low +flat arch of even gray, hangs a sky as +cold as the landscape it domes and whose +mountain borders lie hidden in its hazy +foundations. Through this canopy of +suspended snow the low noontide sun +shows but a blotch of yellowish gray, rayless +and giving forth no warmth, and, +as it slants toward its brief decline, grows +yet dimmer till it is quite blotted out in +the gloom of the half-spent afternoon.</p> + +<p>The expectant hush that broods over +the forlorn and naked earth is broken +only by the twitter of a flock of snow +buntings which, like a straight-blown<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> +flurry of flakes, drift across the fields, +and, sounding solemnly from the depths +of the woods, the hollow hoot of a great +owl. Then the first flakes come wavering +down, then blurring all the landscape +into vague unreality they fall faster, with +a soft purr on frozen grass and leaves till +it becomes unheard on the thickening +noiseless mantle of snow. Deeper and +deeper the snow infolds the earth, covering +all its unsightliness of death and +desolation.</p> + +<p>Now white-furred hare and white-feathered +bunting are at one with the +white-clad world wherein they move, and +we, so lately accustomed to the greenness +of summer and the gorgeousness of +autumn, wondering at the ease wherewith +we accept this marvel of transformation, +welcome these white December +days and in them still find content.<span class="pagenum">[216]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLV" id="XLV"></a>XLV</h2> + +<p class="caption">WINTER VOICES</p> + +<p>Out of her sleep nature yet gives forth +voices betokening that life abides beneath +the semblance of death, that her +warm heart still beats under the white +shroud that infolds her rigid breast.</p> + +<p>A smothered tinkle as of muffled bells +comes up from the streams through their +double roofing of snow and ice, and the +frozen pulse of the trees complains of its +thralldom with a resonant twang as of a +strained cord snapped asunder.</p> + +<p>Beneath their frozen plains, the lakes +bewail their imprisonment with hollow +moans awakening a wild and mournful +chorus of echoes from sleeping shores +that answer now no caress of ripples nor +angry stroke of waves nor dip and splash +of oar and paddle.</p> + +<p>The breeze stirs leafless trees and +shaggy evergreens to a murmur that is +sweet, if sadder than they gave it in the<span class="pagenum">[217]</span> +leafy days of summer, when it bore the +perfume of flowers and the odor of green +fields, and one may imagine the spirit of +springtime and summer lingers among +the naked boughs, voicing memory and +hope.</p> + +<p>Amid all the desolation of their woodland +haunts the squirrels chatter their +delight in windless days of sunshine, and +scoff at biting cold and wintry blasts. +The nuthatch winds his tiny trumpet, +the titmouse pipes his cheery note, the +jay tries the innumerable tricks of his +unmusical voice, and from their rollicking +flight athwart the wavering slant of +snowflakes drifts the creaking twitter of +buntings.</p> + +<p>The sharp, resonant strokes of the +woodman's axe and the groaning downfall +of the monarchs that it lays low, +the shouts of teamsters, the occasional +report of a gun, the various sounds of +distant farmstead life, the jangle of +sleigh bells on far-off highways, the +rumbling roar of a railroad train rushing +and panting along its iron path, and the +bellowing of its far-echoed signals, all +proclaim how busily affairs of life and<span class="pagenum">[218]</span> +pleasure still go on while the summer-wearied +earth lies wrapped in her winter +sleep.</p> + +<p>Night, stealing upon her in dusky +pallor, under cloudy skies, or silvering +her face with moonbeams and starlight, +brings other and wilder voices. Solemnly +the unearthly trumpet of the owl +resounds from his woodland hermitage, +the fox's gasping bark, wild and uncanny, +marks at intervals his wayward +course across the frozen fields on some +errand of love or freebooting, and, swelling +and falling with puff and lapse of +the night wind, as mournful and lonesome +as the voice of a vagrant spirit, +comes from the mountain ridges the +baying of a hound, hunting alone and +unheeded, while his master basks in the +comfort of his fireside.<span class="pagenum">[219]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLVI" id="XLVI"></a>XLVI</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE VARYING HARE</p> + +<p>It is wonderful that with such a host +of enemies to maintain himself against, +the varying hare may still be counted as +one of our familiar acquaintances. Except +in the depths of the great wildernesses, +he has no longer to fear the +wolf, the wolverine, the panther, and the +lesser <i>felidæ</i>, but where the younger +woodlands have become his congenial +home, they are also the home of a multitude +of relentless enemies. The hawk, +whose keen eyes pierce the leafy roof +of the woods, wheels above him as he +crouches in his form. When he goes +abroad under the moon and stars, the +terrible shadow of the horned owl falls +upon his path, and the fox lurks beside +it to waylay him, and the clumsy raccoon, +waddling home from a cornfield +revel, may blunder upon the timid wayfarer.<span class="pagenum">[220]</span></p> + +<p>But of all his enemies none is more +inveterate than man, though he is not, +as are the others, impelled by necessity, +but only by that savagery, the survival +of barbarism, which we dignify by the +name of the sporting instinct.</p> + +<p>Against them all, how slight seem +the defenses of such a weak and timid +creature. Yet impartial nature, having +compassed him about with foes, has shod +his feet with swiftness and silence, and +clad his body with an almost invisible +garment. The vagrant zephyrs touch +the fallen leaves more noisily than his +soft pads press them. The first snow +that whitens the fading gorgeousness +of the forest carpet falls scarcely more +silently.</p> + +<p>Among the tender greens of early +summer and the darker verdure of midsummer, +the hare's brown form is as inconspicuous +as a tuft of last year's leaves, +and set in the brilliancy of autumnal +tints, or the russet hue of their decay, +it still eludes the eye. Then winter +clothes him in her own whiteness so he +may sit unseen upon her lap.</p> + +<p>When he has donned his winter suit<span class="pagenum">[221]</span> +too early and his white coat is dangerously +conspicuous on the brown leaves +and among the misty gray of naked +undergrowth, he permits your near approach +as confidently as if he were of a +color with his surroundings. Is he not +aware that his spotless raiment betrays +him, or does he trust that he may be +mistaken for a white stone or a scroll +of bark sloughed from a white birch? +That would hardly save him from the +keener-sensed birds and beasts of prey, +but may fool your dull eyes.</p> + +<p>In summer wanderings in the woods +you rarely catch sight of him, though +coming upon many faintly traced paths +where he and his wife and their brown +babies make their nightly way among +the ferns. Nor are you often favored +with a sight of him in more frequent +autumnal tramps, unless when he is fleeing +before the hounds whose voices +guide you to a point of observation. +He has now no eyes nor ears for anything +but the terrible clamor that pursues +him wherever he turns, however he +doubles. If a shot brings him down and +does not kill him, you will hear a cry so<span class="pagenum">[222]</span> +piteous that it will spoil your pleasant +dreams of sport for many a night.</p> + +<p>After a snowfall a single hare will in +one night make such a multitude of +tracks as will persuade you that a dozen +have been abroad. Perhaps the trail is +so intricately tangled with a purpose of +misleading pursuit, perhaps it is but the +record of saunterings as idle as your +own.</p> + +<p>As thus you wander through the +pearl-enameled arches, your roving +glances are arrested by a rounded form +which, as white and motionless as everything +around it, yet seems in some +way not so lifeless. You note that the +broad footprints end there, and then become +aware of two wide, bright eyes, +unblinkingly regarding you from the +fluffy tuft of whiteness. How perfectly +assured he is of his invisibility, and if +he had but closed his bright eyes you +might not guess that he was anything +but a snow-covered clump of moss. +How still and breathless he sits till you +almost touch him, and then the white +clod suddenly flashes into life and impetuous +motion, bounding away in a<span class="pagenum">[223]</span> +halo of feathery flakes as if he himself +were dissolving into white vapor.</p> + +<p>Happy he, if he might so elude all +foes; but alas for him, if the swift-winged +owl had been as close above +him or the agile fox within leap. Then +instead of this glimpse of beautiful wild +life to treasure in your memory, you +would only have read the story of +a brief tragedy, briefly written, with a +smirch of blood and a tuft of rumpled +fur.<span class="pagenum">[224]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLVII" id="XLVII"></a>XLVII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE</p> + +<p>The chief requisite of a winter camp-fire +is volume. The feeble flame and +meagre bed of embers that are a hot +discomfort to the summer camper, while +he hovers over coffee-pot and frying-pan, +would be no more than the glow of a +candle toward tempering this nipping +air. This fire must be no dainty nibbler +of chips and twigs that a boy's +hatchet may furnish, but a roaring +devourer of logs, for whose carving the +axe must be long and stoutly wielded—a +very glutton of solid fuel, continually +demanding more and licking with its +broad red tongues at the branches that +sway and toss high above in its hot +breath.</p> + +<p>So fierce is it that you approach cautiously +to feed it and the snow shrinks +away from it and can quench of it only +the tiny sparks that are spit out upon it.<span class="pagenum">[225]</span> +You must not be too familiar with it, +yet it is your friend after its own manner, +fighting away for you the creeping +demon of cold, and holding at bay, on +the rim of its glare, the wolf and the +panther.</p> + +<p>With its friendly offices are mingled +many elfish tricks. It boils your pot +just to the point you wish, then boils +it over and licks up the fragrant brew +of celestial leaf or Javanese berry. It +roasts or broils your meat to a turn, +then battles with you for it and sears +your fingers when you strive to snatch +the morsel from its jaws, and perhaps +burns it to a crisp before your very +eyes, vouchsafing but the tantalizing fragrance +of the feast.</p> + +<p>Then it may fall into the friendliest +and most companionable of moods, lazily +burning its great billets of ancient wood +while you burn the Virginian weed, singing +to you songs of summer, its tongues +of flame murmuring like the south wind +among green leaves, and mimicking the +chirp of the crickets and the cicada's +cry in the simmer of exuding sap and +vent of gas, and out of its smoke blossom<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> +sparks, that drift away in its own +currents like red petals of spent flowers.</p> + +<p>It paints pictures, some weird or +grotesque, some beautiful, now of ghosts +and goblins, now of old men, now of +fair women, now of lakes crinkled with +golden waves and towers on pine-crowned +crags ruddy with the glow of sunset, +sunny meadows and pasture lands, with +farmsteads and flocks and herds.</p> + +<p>The ancient trees that rear themselves +aloft like strong pillars set to hold up +the narrow arch of darkness, exhale an +atmosphere of the past, in which your +thoughts, waking or sleeping, drift backward +to the old days when men whose +dust was long since mingled with the +forest mould moved here in the rage of +war and the ardor of the chase. Shadowy +forms of dusky warriors, horribly +marked in war paint, gather about the +camp-fire and sit in its glare in voiceless +council, or encircle it in the grotesquely +terrible movement of the war +dance.</p> + +<p>Magically the warlike scene changes +to one of peace. The red hunters steal<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> +silently in with burdens of game. The +squaws sit in the ruddy light plying +their various labors, while their impish +children play around them in mimicry +of battle and the chase.</p> + +<p>All then vanish, and white-clad soldiers +of France bivouac in their place—or +red-coated Britons, or Provincial rangers, +unsoldierly to look upon, in home-spun +garb, but keen-eyed, alert, and the +bravest of the brave.</p> + +<p>These dissolve like wreaths of smoke, +and a solitary white hunter, clothed all +in buckskin, sits over against you. His +long flint-lock rifle lying across his lap, +he is looking with rapt gaze into the +fire, dreaming as you are.</p> + +<p>So, growing brighter as the daylight +grows dim and the gloaming thickens +to the mirk, and paling again as daylight +creeps slowly back upon the world, +but always bright in the diurnal twilight +of the woods, the camp-fire weaves +and breaks its magic spells, now leaping, +now lapsing, as its own freaks +move it. Then, perhaps, when it has +charmed you far across the border of<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> +dreamland and locked your eyes in the +blindness of sleep, it will startle you +back to the cold reality of the wintry +woods with a crash and roar of sudden +revival.<span class="pagenum">[229]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLVIII" id="XLVIII"></a>XLVIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">JANUARY DAYS</p> + +<p>In these midwinter days, how muffled +is the earth in its immaculate raiment, so +disguised in whiteness that familiar places +are strange, rough hollows smoothed to +mere undulations, deceitful to the eye +and feet, and level fields so piled with +heaps and ridges that their owners +scarcely recognize them. The hovel is +as regally roofed as the palace, the rudest +fence is a hedge of pearl, finer than a +wall of marble, and the meanest wayside +weed is a white flower of fairyland.</p> + +<p>The woods, which frost and November +winds stripped of their leafy thatch, are +roofed again, now with an arabesque of +alabaster more delicate than the green +canopy that summer unfolded, and all +the floor is set in noiseless pavement, +traced with a shifting pattern of blue +shadows. In these silent aisles the +echoes are smothered at their birth.<span class="pagenum">[230]</span> +There is no response of airy voices to +the faint call of the winter birds. The +sound of the axe-stroke flies no farther +than the pungent fragrance of the smoke +that drifts in a blue haze from the +chopper's fire. The report of the gun +awakes no answering report, and each +mellow note of the hound comes separate +to the ear, with no jangle of reverberations.</p> + +<p>Fox and hound wallow through the +snow a crumbling furrow that obliterates +identity of either trail, yet there are +tracks that tell as plain as written words +who made them. Here have fallen, +lightly as snowflakes, the broad pads of +the hare, white as the snow he trod; +there, the parallel tracks of another winter +masker, the weasel, and those of the +squirrel, linking tree to tree. The leaps +of a tiny wood-mouse are lightly marked +upon the feathery surface to where there +is the imprint of a light, swift pinion on +either side, and the little story of his +wandering ends—one crimson blood +drop the period that marks the finis.</p> + +<p>In the blue shadow at the bottom of +that winding furrow are the dainty footprints<span class="pagenum">[231]</span> +of a grouse, and you wonder why +he, so strong of wing, should choose to +wade laboriously the clogging snow even +in his briefest trip, rather than make +his easy way through the unresisting +air, and the snow-written record of his +wayward wanderings tells not why. +Suddenly, as if a mine had been sprung +where your next footstep should fall and +with almost as startling, though harmless +effect, another of his wild tribe +bursts upward through the unmarked +white floor and goes whirring and clattering +away, scattering in powdery ruin +the maze of delicate tracery the snowfall +wrought; and vanishes, leaving only +an aerial pathway of naked twigs to mark +his impetuous passage.</p> + +<p>In the twilight of an evergreen thicket +sits a great horned owl like a hermit in +his cell in pious contemplation of his +own holiness and the world's wickedness. +But this recluse hates not sin, +only daylight and mankind. Out in the +fields you may find the white-robed brother +of this gray friar, a pilgrim from +the far north, brooding in the very face +of the sun, on some stack or outlying<span class="pagenum">[232]</span> +barn, but he will not suffer you to come +so near to him as will this solemn anchorite +who stares at you unmoved as a +graven image till you come within the +very shadows of his roof.</p> + +<p>Marsh and channel are scarcely distinguishable +now but by the white domes +of the muskrats' winter homes and here +and there a sprawling thicket or button +bush, for the rank growth of weeds is +beaten flat, and the deep snow covers it +and the channel ice in one unbroken +sheet.</p> + +<p>Champlain's sheltered bays and coves +are frozen and white with snow or frost, +and the open water, whether still or +storm-tossed, black beneath clouds or +bluer than the blue dome that arches it, +looks as cold as ice and snow. Sometimes +its steaming breath lies close +above it, sometimes mounts in swaying, +lofty columns to the sky, but always +cold and ghostly, without expression of +warmth or life.</p> + +<p>So far away to hoary peaks that shine +with a glittering gleam against the blue +rim of the sky, or to the furthest bluegray +line of woodland that borders the<span class="pagenum">[233]</span> +horizon, stretches the universal whiteness, +so coldly shines the sun from the +low curve of his course, and so chilly +comes the lightest waft of wind from +wheresoever it listeth, that it tasks the +imagination to picture any land on all +the earth where spring is just awakening +fresh life, or where summer dwells amid +green leaves and bright flowers, the music +of birds and running waters, and of +warm waves on pleasant shores, or autumn +yet lingers in the gorgeousness of +many hues. How far off beyond this +world seems the possibility of such seasons, +how enduring and relentless this +which encompasses us.</p> + +<p>And then, at the close of the brief +white day, the sunset paints a promise +and a prophecy in a blaze of color on the +sky. The gray clouds kindle with red +and yellow fire that burns about their +purple hearts in tints of infinite variety, +while behind them and the dark blue +rampart of the mountains flames the last +glory of the departing sun, fading in a +tint of tender green to the upper blue. +Even the cold snow at our feet flushes +with warm color, and the eastern hills<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> +blush roseate against the climbing, darkening +shadow of the earth.</p> + +<p>It is as if some land of summer whose +brightness has never been told lay unveiled +before us, its delectable mountains +splendid with innumerable hues, +its lakes and streams of gold rippling to +purple shores seeming not so far before +us but that we might, by a little journey, +come to them.<span class="pagenum">[235]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="XLIX" id="XLIX"></a>XLIX</h2> + +<p class="caption">A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE</p> + +<p>When the charitable mantle of the +snow has covered the ugliness of the +earth, as one looks towards the woodlands +he may see a distant dark speck +emerge from the blue shadow of the +woods and crawl slowly houseward. If +born to the customs of this wintry land, +he may guess at once what it is; if not, +speculation, after a little, gives way to certainty, +when the indistinct atom grows +into a team of quick-stepping horses or +deliberate oxen hauling a sled-load of +wood to the farmhouse.</p> + +<p>It is more than that. It is a part of +the woods themselves, with much of +their wildness clinging to it, and with +records, slight and fragmentary, yet legible, +of the lives of trees and birds and +beasts and men coming to our door.</p> + +<p>Before the sounds of the creaking sled +and the answering creak of the snow are<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> +heard, one sees the regular puffs of the +team's breath jetting out and climbing +the cold air. The head and shoulders +of the muffled driver then appear, as he +sticks by narrow foothold to the hinder +part of his sled, or trots behind it beating +his breast with his numb hands. Prone +like a crawling band of scouts, endwise +like battering-rams, not upright with +green banners waving, Birnam wood +comes to Dunsinane to fight King Frost.</p> + +<p>As the woodpile grows at the farmhouse +door in a huge windrow of sled-length +wood or an even wall of cord +wood, so in the woods there widens a +patch of uninterrupted daylight. Deep +shade and barred and netted shadow turn +to almost even whiteness, as the axe saps +the foundations of summer homes of birds +and the winter fastnesses of the squirrels +and raccoons. Here are the tracks of +sled and team, where they wound among +rocks and stumps and over cradle knolls +to make up a load; and there are those +of the chopper by the stump where he +stood to fell the tree, and along the great +trough made by its fall. The snow is +flecked with chips, dark or pale according<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> +to their kind, just as they alighted +from their short flight, bark up or down +or barkless or edgewise, and with dry +twigs and torn scraps of scattered moss.</p> + +<p>When the chopper comes to his work in +the morning, he finds traces of nightly +visitors to his white island that have +drifted to its shores out of the gray sea +of woods. Here is the print of the hare's +furry foot where he came to nibble the +twigs of poplar and birch that yesterday +were switching the clouds, but have +fallen, manna-like, from skyward to feed +him. A fox has skirted its shadowy margin, +then ventured to explore it, and in +a thawy night a raccoon has waddled +across it.</p> + +<p>The woodman is apt to kindle a fire +more for company than warmth, though +he sits by it to eat his cold dinner, casting +the crumbs to the chickadees, which +come fearlessly about him at all times. +Blazing or smouldering by turns, as it is +fed or starved, the fire humanizes the +woods more than the man does. Now +and then it draws to it a visitor, oftenest +a fox-hunter who has lost his hound, +and stops for a moment to light his pipe<span class="pagenum">[238]</span> +at the embers and to ask if his dog has +been seen or heard. Then he wades off +through the snow, and is presently swallowed +out of sight by gray trees and +blue shadows. Or the hound comes in +search of his master or a lost trail. He +halts for an instant, with a wistful look +on his sorrowful face, then disappears, +nosing his way into the maw of the +woods.</p> + +<p>If the wood is cut "sled length," which +is a saving of time and also of chips, +which will now be made at the door and +will serve to boil the tea-kettle in summer, +instead of rotting to slow fertilization +of the woodlot, the chopper is one of +the regular farm hands or a "day man," +and helps load the sled when it comes. +If the wood is four foot, he is a professional, +chopping by the cord, and not +likely to pile his cords too high or long, +nor so closely that the squirrels have +much more trouble in making their way +through them than over them; and the +man comes and goes according to his +ambition to earn money.</p> + +<p>In whichever capacity the chopper +plies his axe, he is pretty sure to bring<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> +no sentimentalism to his task. He inherits +the feeling that was held by the +old pioneers toward trees, who looked +upon the noblest of them as only giant +weeds, encumbering the ground, and best +got rid of by the shortest means. To +him the tree is a foe worthy of no respect +or mercy, and he feels the triumph +of a savage conquerer when it +comes crashing down and he mounts the +prostrate trunk to dismember it; the +more year-marks encircling its heart, +the greater his victory. To his ears, its +many tongues tell nothing, or preach +only heresy. Away with the old tree +to the flames! To give him his due, he +is a skillful executioner, and will compel +a tree to fall across any selected stump +within its length. If one could forget +the tree, it is a pretty sight to watch the +easy swing of the axe, and see how unerringly +every blow goes to its mark, +knocking out chips of a span's breadth. +It does not look difficult nor like work; +but could you strike "twice in a place," +or in half a day bring down a tree twice +as thick as your body? The wise farmer +cuts, for fuel, only the dead and decaying<span class="pagenum">[240]</span> +trees in his woodlot, leaving saplings +and thrifty old trees to "stand up and +grow better," as the Yankee saying is.</p> + +<p>There is a prosperous and hospitable +look in a great woodpile at a farmhouse +door. Logs with the moss of a hundred +years on them, breathing the odors of the +woods, have come to warm the inmates +and all in-comers. The white smoke of +these chimneys is spicy with the smell +of seasoned hard wood, and has a savor of +roasts and stews that makes one hungry. +If you take the back track on a trail of +pitchy smoke, it is sure to lead you to +a squalid threshold with its starved heap +of pine roots and half-decayed wood. +Thrown down carelessly beside it is a +dull axe, wielded as need requires with +spiteful awkwardness by a slatternly woman, +or laboriously upheaved and let fall +with uncertain stroke by a small boy.</p> + +<p>The Yankees who possess happy memories +of the great open fires of old time +are growing few, but Whittier has embalmed +for all time, in "Snow-Bound," +their comfort and cheer and picturesqueness. +When the trees of the virgin forest +cast their shadows on the newly risen roof<span class="pagenum">[241]</span> +there was no forecasting provision for +winter. The nearest green tree was cut, +and hauled, full length, to the door, and +with it the nearest dry one was cut to +match the span of the wide fireplace; +and when these were gone, another raid +was made upon the woods; and so from +hand to mouth the fire was fed. It was +not uncommon to draw the huge backlogs +on to the hearth with a horse, and +sometimes a yoke of oxen were so employed. +Think of a door wide enough +for this: half of the side of a house to +barricade against the savage Indians and +savage cold! It was the next remove +from a camp-fire. There was further +likeness to it in the tales that were told +beside it, of hunting and pioneer hardships, +of wild beasts and Indian forays, +while the eager listeners drew to a closer +circle on the hearth, and the awed children +cast covert scared backward glances at +the crouching and leaping shadows that +thronged on the walls, and the great +samp-kettle bubbled and seethed on its +trammel, and the forgotten johnny-cake +scorched on its tilted board.</p> + +<p>As conveniently near the shed as possible,<span class="pagenum">[242]</span> +the pile of sled-length wood is +stretching itself slowly, a huge vertebrate, +every day or two gaining in length; a +joint of various woods, with great trunks +at the bottom, then smaller ones, gradually +growing less to the topping out of +saplings and branches. Here is a sugar-maple, +three feet through at the butt, with +the scars of many tappings showing on its +rough bark. The oldest of them may +have been made by the Indians. Who +knows what was their method of tapping? +Here is the mark of the gouge with which +early settlers drew the blood of the tree; +a fashion learned, likely enough, from the +aboriginal sugar-makers, whose narrowest +stone gouges were as passable tools +for the purpose as any they had for another. +These more distinct marks show +where the auger of later years made its +wounds. The old tree has distilled its +sweets for two races and many generations +of men, first into the bark buckets +of Waubanakis, then into the ruder +troughs of Yankee pioneers, then into the +more convenient wide-bottomed wooden +sap-tubs; and at last, when the march of +improvement has spoiled the wilderness<span class="pagenum">[243]</span> +of the woods with trim-built sugar-houses +and patent evaporators, the sap drips +with resounding metallic tinkle into pails +of shining tin. Now the old maple has +come to perform its last office, of warming +and cooking the food for a generation +that was unborn when it was yet a +lusty tree.</p> + +<p>Beside it lies a great wild-cherry tree +that somehow escaped the cabinet maker +when there was one in every town and +cherry wood was in fashion. Its fruit +mollified the harshness of the New England +rum of many an old-time raising and +husking. Next is a yellow birch with a +shaggy mane of rustling bark along its +whole length, like a twelve-foot piece of +the sea serpent drifted ashore and hauled +inland; then a white birch, no longer +white, but gray with a coating of moss, +and black with belts of old peelings, +made for the patching of canoes and +roofing of shanties.</p> + +<p>With these lies a black birch, whose +once smooth bark age has scaled and furrowed, +and robbed of all its tenderness +and most of its pungent, aromatic flavor. +Some of it yet lingers in the younger topmost<span class="pagenum">[244]</span> +twigs which the hired man brings +home to the little folks, who fall to gnawing +them like a colony of beavers. By +it is an elm, whose hollow trunk was the +home of raccoons when it stood on its +buttressed stump in the swamp. Near +by is a beech, its smooth bark wrinkled +where branches bent away from it, and +blotched with spots of white and patches +of black and gray lichen. It is marked +with innumerable fine scratches, the track +of the generations of squirrels that have +made it their highway; and among these, +the wider apart and parallel nail-marks +of a raccoon, and also the drilling of +woodpeckers. Here, too, are traces of +man's visitation, for distorted with the +growth of years are initials, and a heart +and dart that symbolized the tender passion +of some one of the past, who wandered, +love-sick, in the shadow of the +woods. How long ago did death's inevitable +dart pierce his heart? Here he +wrote a little of his life's history, and +now his name and that of his mistress are +so completely forgotten one cannot guess +them by their first letters inscribed in +the yesterday of the forest's years.<span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p> + +<p>Above these logs, rolled up on skids +or sled stakes, are smaller yet goodly +bodies of white ash, full of oars for the +water and rails for the land; and of black +ash, as full of barrel hoops and basket +splints, the ridged and hoary bark +shagged with patches of dark moss; and +a pine too knotty for sawing, with old +turpentine boxes gashing its lower part, +the dry resin in them half overgrown, +but odorous still; and oaks that have +borne their last acorns; and a sharded +hickory that will never furnish another +nut for boy or squirrel, but now, and only +this once, flail handles, swingles, and oxbows, +and helves for axes to hew down +its brethren, and wood to warm its destroyers, +and smoke and fry ham for +them; and a basswood that will give the +wild bees no more blossoms in July, hollow-hearted +and unfit for sleigh or toboggan, +wood straight rifted and so white +that a chip of it will hardly show on the +snow, but as unprofitable food for fires +as the poplars beside it, which, in the +yellow-green of youth or the furrowed +gray of age, have shivered their last.</p> + +<p>Still higher in the woodpile are white<span class="pagenum">[246]</span> +birches, yet in the smooth skin of their +prime, which is fit to be fashioned into +drinking cups and berry baskets, or to +furnish a page for my lady's album. Here +are hardhacks, some with grain winding +like the grooves of a rifle. This is the +timber the Indians made their bows of, +and which now serves the same purpose +for the young savages whom we have +always with us. There are sinewy blue +beeches, slowly grown up from ox-goads +and the "beech seals" of Ethan Allen's +Green Mountain Boys to the girth of a +man's thigh, a size at which they mostly +stop growing. A smaller trunk, like yet +unlike them, sets folks to guessing what +kind of wood it is. He will hit the mark +who fires at random the names "shadblow," +"service-berry," or "amelanchier." +If the axe had been merciful, in +early May its branches would have been +as white with blossoms as if the last April +snow still clung to them. Tossed on +a-top of all is a jumbled thatch of small +stuff,—saplings improvidently cut, short-lived +striped maple, and dogwood, the +slender topmost lengths of great trees, +once the perches of hawks and crows,<span class="pagenum">[247]</span> +and such large branches as were not too +crooked to lie still on the sled.</p> + +<p>The snow-fleas, harbingers and attendants +of thaws, are making the snow in +the woods gray with their restless myriads, +when the sled makes its last trip +across the slushy fields, which are fast +turning from white to dun under the +March winds and showers and sunshine.</p> + +<p>The completed woodpile basks in the +growing warmth, as responsive to the +touch of spring as if every trunk yet upheld +its branches in the forest. The buds +swell on every chance-spared twig, and +sap starts from the severed ducts. From +the pine drip slowly lengthening stalactites +of amber, from the hickory thick +beads of honeydew, and from the maples +a flow of sweet that calls the bees from +their hives across the melting drifts. +Their busy hum makes an island of summer +sound in the midst of the silent ebbing +tide of winter.</p> + +<p>As the days grow warmer, the woodpile +invites idlers as well as busy bees +and wood-cutters. The big logs are comfortable +seats to lounge on while whittling +a pine chip, and breathing the mingled<span class="pagenum">[248]</span> +odors of the many woods freshly +cut and the indescribable woodsy smell +brought home in the bark and moss, and +listening to the hum of the bees and +harsher music of the saws and axe, the +sharp, quick swish of the whip-saw, the +longer drawn and deeper ring of the crosscut, +and the regular beat of the axe,—fiddle, +bass-viol, and drum, each with its +own time, but all somehow in tune. The +parts stop a little when the fiddler saws +off his string, the two drawers of the long +bass-viol bow sever theirs, and the drummer +splits his drum, but each is soon outfitted +again, and the funeral march of the +woodpile goes on. Here is the most delightful +of places for those busy idlers +the children, for it is full of pioneers' +and hunters' cabins, robbers' caves and +bears' dens, and of treasures of moss and +gum and birch, and of punk, the tinder +of the Indians and our forefathers, now +gone out of use except for some conservative +Canuck to light his pipe or for +boys to touch off their small ordnance.</p> + +<p>It is a pretty sight to watch the nuthatches +and titmice searching the grooves +of the bark for their slender fare, or a<span class="pagenum">[249]</span> +woodpecker chopping his best for a living +with his sharp-pointed axe, all having +followed their rightful possessions +from the woods, taking perhaps the track +of the sled. It is wonderful to hear the +auger of the pine-borer, now thawed into +life, crunching its unseen way through the +wood. Then there is always the chance +of the axe unlocking the stores of deermice, +quarts of beechnuts with all the +shells neatly peeled off; and what if it +should happen to open a wild-bee hive +full of honey!</p> + +<p>If the man comes who made the round +of the barns in the fall and early winter +with his threshing-machine, having exchanged +it for a sawing machine, he +makes short work of our woodpile. A +day or two of stumbling clatter of the +horses in their treadmill, and the buzzing +and screeching of the whirling saw, gnaws +it into a heap of blocks.</p> + +<p>Our lounging-place and the children's +wooden playground have gone, and all +the picturesqueness and woodsiness have +disappeared as completely as when splitting +has made only firewood of the pile. +It will give warmth and comfort from<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> +the stove, but in that black sepulchre +all its beauty is swallowed out of sight +forever. If it can go to a generous +fireplace, it is beautified again in the +glowing and fading embers that paint +innumerable shifting pictures, while the +leaping flames sing the old song of the +wind in the branches.<span class="pagenum">[251]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="L" id="L"></a>L</h2> + +<p class="caption">A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION</p> + +<p>It seems quite probable that this +nineteenth century may be unpleasantly +memorable in centuries to come as that +in which many species of animate and +inanimate nature became extinct. It has +witnessed the extinction of the great +auk, so utterly swept off the face of the +earth that the skin, or even the egg of +one, is a small fortune to the possessor. +Reduced from the hundreds of thousands +of twenty-five years ago to the few hundred +of to-day, it needs but a few years +to compass the complete annihilation of +the bison. It is not improbable that the +elk and the antelope will be overtaken +by almost as swift a fate. The skin +hunters, and the game butchers miscalled +sportsmen, are making almost as speedy +way with them as they have with the +buffalo.</p> + +<p>The common deer, hedged within<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> +their narrowing ranges by civilization, +and hunted by all methods in all seasons, +may outlast the century, but they will +have become wofully scarce at the close +of it, even in such regions as the Adirondacks +which seem to have been set apart +by nature especially for the preservation +of wild life.</p> + +<p>The wild turkey is passing away, and +it is a question of but few years when he +shall have departed forever. In some +localities the next noblest of our game +birds, the ruffed grouse, has become almost +a thing of the past, and in some +years is everywhere so scarce that there +are sad forebodings of his complete disappearance +from the rugged hills of +which he seems as much a belonging +as the lichened rocks, the arbutus and +the wind-swept evergreens. One little +island on the New England coast holds +the handful that is left of the race of +heath hens.</p> + +<p>The woodcock is being cultivated and +improved and murdered out of existence +with clearing and draining and summer +shooting, and unseasonable shooting is +doing the same for many kinds of waterfowl.<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> +In the Eastern States a wild +pigeon is a rare sight now, and has been +for years; the netters and slaughterers +have done their work too thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Gentle woman is making an end of the +song-birds that she may trick her headgear +in barbaric and truly savage fashion. +The brighter plumaged small birds are +becoming noticeably scarce even in those +parts of the country that the milliners' +collector and the pot-naturalist have not +yet invaded, and such as the scarlet +tanager, never anywhere numerous, are +like to be soon "collected" out of living +existence. If they are to be saved, it +is by no dallying, nor slow awakening of +popular feeling in their behalf.</p> + +<p>There will be pine-trees, no doubt, for +centuries to come, but who that live +twenty years hence will see one of these +venerable monarchs of the woods towering +above all other forest growth, or see +any ancient tree, however historic or precious +for its age and beauty and majesty +and mystery of long past years, if it is +worth the cutting for timber or fuel?</p> + +<p>Even the lesser growths of the old +woods are passing away. Some, as the<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> +carpeting sphagnum and the sprawling +hobble bush, disappear through changed +conditions; others, as the medicinal +spikenard, sarsaparilla, and ginseng, and +the decorative running pine and the arbutus, +through ruthless, greedy gathering, +which leaves no root nor ripened seed +to perpetuate their kind.</p> + +<p>An old man may be glad that his eyes +are not to behold the coming desolation, +but he must be sad when he thinks of +the poor inheritance of his children.<span class="pagenum">[255]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LI" id="LI"></a>LI</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS</p> + +<p>From the sowing and planting of his +seed, almost indeed from the turning of +the furrow, the farmer enters upon a +contest with the weeds, for a place in +which his crops may grow, and if he or +the crops are not vanquished, as the +weeds never are, the warfare continues +till harvest time.</p> + +<p>While he, with infinite labor, prepares +the ground and sows his seed with all +care, praying that drouth may not wither +nor floods drown it, and that frosts may +not cut down the tender plants, the +winds of heaven and the fowls of the air +scatter broadcast the seeds of the noxious +weeds, or these lie dormant in the +ground awaiting opportunity. They germinate +in sterile places, fence corners +and nooks of the wayside, and flourish +alike in scorching sunshine and in sodden +soil.<span class="pagenum">[256]</span></p> + +<p>Weeds defy the latest and the earliest +frosts, grow with their roots in the +air; and cut down, spring up, grow on, +blossoming and ripening their seed in +creeping stealth and ever unscathed by +blight; and so flourish in spite of all +unkindliness of man or stress of nature, +that the husbandman wishes that they +might by some freak of demand become +the useful plants, his present crop the +undesired ones.</p> + +<p>Somewhat the same position in which +weeds stand opposed to the plants which +the husbandman depends upon for his +livelihood, vermin hold toward the beasts +and birds upon which the sportsman +depends for his recreation. While they +whose protection men endeavor to maintain +during the season of procreation, and +at times when scarcity of food prevails, +decrease often to complete extinction, the +vermin, whom the hand of man is always +against, continue to increase and multiply, +or at least hold their own. With +them as with the weeds nature seems to +deal with a kinder hand. She spares +and nourishes them, while she destroys +their betters.<span class="pagenum">[257]</span></p> + +<p>The snow crust, which walls the quail +in a living tomb, makes a royal banqueting +hall for the pestiferous field mice, +where they feast and revel in plenty, +secure from all their enemies, feathered +or furred. It impounds the deer, but +gives free range to the wolf and to his +as pitiless two-legged brother, the crust +hunter.</p> + +<p>The wet seasons that drown the callow +woodcock and grouse work no harm +to the ravenous brood of the hawk and +owl, nor to the litter of fox, mink, or +weasel. Wet or dry, hot or cold, the +year fosters them throughout its varied +round.</p> + +<p>Winged ticks kill the grouse, but the +owl endures their companionship with +sedate serenity and thrives with a swarm +of the parasites in the covert of his +feathers.</p> + +<p>The skunk has always been killed on +sight as a pest that the world would be +the sweeter for being rid of. In later +years the warfare against him has received +an impetus from the value of his +fur, but though this has gone on relentlessly +for many years, his tribe still live<span class="pagenum">[258]</span> +to load the air with a fragrance that incites +the ambitious trapper to further +conquest.</p> + +<p>All the year round, farmers and their +boys wage war upon the crows, but each +returning autumn sees the columns of +the black army moving southward with +apparently unthinned ranks, while, year +by year, the harried platoons of ducks +and geese return fewer and less frequent. +Those detested foreigners, the +English sparrows, increase and multiply +in spite of bitter winters and righteous +persecution, while our natives, the +beloved song-birds, diminish in numbers. +On every hand we find the undesirable +in animated nature, the birds +and beasts that we would gladly be rid +of, maintaining their numbers, while +those whose increase we desire are +losing ground and tending toward extinction.</p> + +<p>The prospect for the sportsman of the +future is indeed gloomy, unless he shall +make game of the pests and become a +hunter of skunks and a shooter of crows +and sparrows. Who can say that a hundred<span class="pagenum">[259]</span> +years hence the leading sportsmen +of the period will not be wrangling over +the points and merits of their skunk and +woodchuck dogs and bragging of their +bags of crows and sparrows?<span class="pagenum">[260]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LII" id="LII"></a>LII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE WEASEL</p> + +<p>A chain that is blown away by the +wind and melted by the sun, links with +pairs of parallel dots the gaps of farm +fences, and winds through and along +walls and zigzag lines of rails, is likely to +be the most visible sign that you will +find in winter of one bold and persistent +little hunter's presence.</p> + +<p>Still less likely are you to be aware of +it in summer or fall, even by such traces +of his passage, for he is in league with +nature to keep his secrets. When every +foot of his outdoor wandering must be +recorded she makes him as white as +the snow whereon it is imprinted, save +his beady eyes and dark tail-tip. When +summer is green and autumn gay or sad +of hue she clothes him in the brown +wherewith she makes so many of her +wild children inconspicuous.</p> + +<p>Yet you may see him, now and then,<span class="pagenum">[261]</span> +in his white suit or in his brown, gliding +with lithe, almost snake-like movement +along the lower fence rails, going forth +hunting or bearing home his game, a +bird or a fat field-mouse. In a cranny of +an old lichen-scaled stone wall you may +see his bright eyes gleaming out of the +darkness, like dewdrops caught in a +spider's web, and then the brown head +thrust cautiously forth to peer curiously +at you. Then he may favor you with +the exhibition of an acrobatic feat: his +hinder paws being on the ground in the +position of standing, he twists his slender +body so that his forepaws are placed in +just the reverse position on the stone or +rail above him, and he looks upward and +backward.</p> + +<p>He may be induced to favor you with +intimate and familiar acquaintance, to +take bits of meat from your hand and +even to climb to your lap and search +your pockets and suffer you to lay a +gentle hand upon him, but he has sharp +teeth wherewith to resent too great liberties.</p> + +<p>While he may be almost a pet of a +household and quite a welcome visitor of<span class="pagenum">[262]</span> +rat-infested premises, he becomes one of +the worst enemies of the poultry-wife +when he is tempted to fall upon her +broods of chicks. He seems possessed +of a murderous frenzy, and slays as ruthlessly +and needlessly as a wolf or a human +game-butcher or the insatiate angler. +Neither is he the friend of the sportsman, +for he makes havoc among the +young grouse and quail and the callow +woodcock.</p> + +<p>The trapper reviles him when he finds +him in his mink trap, for all the beauty +of his ermine a worthless prize drawn in +this chanceful lottery. When every one +carried his money in a purse, the weasel's +slender white skin was in favor with +country folk. This use survives only in +the command or exhortation to "draw +your weasel." When the purse was +empty, it gave the spendthrift an untimely +hint by creeping out of his +pocket. In the primest condition of his +fur he neither keeps nor puts money in +your pocket now. He is worth more to +look at, with his lithe body quick with +life, than to possess in death.<span class="pagenum">[263]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LIII" id="LIII"></a>LIII</h2> + +<p class="caption">FEBRUARY DAYS</p> + +<p>In the blur of storm or under clear +skies, the span of daylight stretches +farther from the fading dusk of dawn to +the thickening dusk of evening. Now +in the silent downfall of snow, now in +the drift and whirl of flakes driven from +the sky and tossed from the earth by the +shrieking wind, the day's passage is unmarked +by shadows. It is but a long +twilight, coming upon the world out of +one misty gloom, and going from it into +another. Now the stars fade and vanish +in the yellow morning sky, the long +shadows of the hills, clear cut on the +shining fields, swing slowly northward +and draw eastward to the netted umbrage +of the wood. So the dazzling day grows +and wanes and the attenuated shadows +are again stretched to their utmost, then +dissolved in the flood of shade, and the +pursued sunlight takes flight from the<span class="pagenum">[264]</span> +mountain peaks to the clouds, from cloud +to cloud along the darkening sky, and +vanishes beyond the blue barrier of the +horizon.</p> + +<p>There are days of perfect calm and +hours of stillness as of sleep, when the +lightest wisp of cloud fleece hangs moveless +against the sky and the pine-trees +forget their song. But for the white +columns of smoke that, unbent in the +still air, arise from farmstead chimneys, +one might imagine that all affairs of life +had been laid aside; for no other sign of +them is visible, no sound of them falls +upon the ear. You see the cows and +sheep in the sheltered barnyards and +their lazy breaths arising in little clouds, +but no voice of theirs drifts to you.</p> + +<p>No laden team crawls creaking along +the highway nor merry jangle of sleigh +bells flying into and out of hearing over +its smooth course, nor for a space do the +tireless panting engine and roaring train +divide earth and sky with a wedge of dissolving +vapor. The broad expanse of +the lake is a white plain of snow-covered +ice: no dash of angry waves assails its +shore still glittering with the trophies of<span class="pagenum">[265]</span> +their last assault; no glimmer of bright +waters greets the sun; no keel is afloat; +the lighthouse, its occupation gone, +stares day and night with dull eyes from +its lonely rock, upon a silent deserted +waste.</p> + +<p>In the wood you may hear no sound +but your own muffled footsteps, the +crackle of dry twigs, and the soft swish +of boughs swinging back from your passage, +and now and then a tree punctuating +the silence with a clear resonant crack +of frozen fibres and its faint echo. You +hear no bird nor squirrel nor sound of +woodman's axe, nor do you catch the +pungent fragrance of his fire nor the +subtler one of fresh-cut wood. Indeed, +all odors of the forest seem frozen out +of the air or locked up in their sources. +No perfume drops from the odor-laden +evergreens, only scentless air reaches +your nostrils.</p> + +<p>One day there comes from the south +a warm breath, and with it fleets of +white clouds sailing across the blue +upper deep, outstripped by their swifter +shadows sweeping in blue squadrons +along the glistening fields and darkening<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> +with brief passage the gray woodlands. +Faster come the clouds out of the south +and out of the west, till they crowd the +sky, only fragments of its intense azure +showing here and there between them, +only now and then a gleam of sunlight +flashing across the earth. Then the blue +sunlit sky is quite shut away behind a +low arch of gray, darkening at the horizon +with thick watery clouds, and beneath +it all the expanse of fields and forest lies +in universal shadow.</p> + +<p>The south wind is warmer than yesterday's +sunshine, the snow softens till +your footsteps are sharply moulded as in +wax, and in a little space each imprint +is flecked thick with restless, swarming +myriads of snow-fleas. Rain begins to +fall softly on snow-covered roofs, but +beating the panes with the familiar patter +of summer showers. It becomes a +steady downpour that continues till the +saturated snow can hold no more, and +the hidden brooks begin to show in yellow +streaks between white, unstable +shores, and glide with a swift whisking +rush over the smooth bottom that paves +their rough natural bed; and as their<span class="pagenum">[267]</span> +yellow currents deepen and divide more +widely their banks, the noise of their +onflow fills the air like an exaggeration +of the murmur of pines, and the song of +the pines swells and falls with the varying +wind.</p> + +<p>After the rain there come, perhaps, +some hours of quiet sunshine or starlight, +and then out of the north a nipping +wind that hardens the surface of the +snow into solid crust that delights your +feet to walk upon. The rivulets shrink +out of sight again, leaving no trace but +water-worn furrows in the snow, some +frozen fluffs of yellow foam and stranded +leaves and twigs, grass and broken weeds. +The broad pools have left their shells of +unsupported ice, which with frequent +sudden crashes shatters down upon their +hollow beds.</p> + +<p>When the crust has invited you forth, +you cannot retrace your way upon it, +and the wild snow walkers make no +record now of their recent wanderings. +But of those who fared abroad before +this solid pavement was laid upon the +snow, fabulous tales are now inscribed +upon it. Reading them without question,<span class="pagenum">[268]</span> +you might believe that the well-tamed +country had lapsed into the +possession of its ancient savage tenants, +for the track of the fox is as big as a +wolf's, the raccoon's as large as a bear's, +the house cat's as broad as the panther's, +and those of the muskrat and mink persuade +you to believe that the beaver and +otter, departed a hundred years ago, +have come to their own again. Till the +next thaw or snowfall, they are set as +indelibly as primeval footprints in the +rocks, and for any scent that tickles +the hounds' keen nose, might be as old. +He sniffs them curiously and contemptuously +passes on, yet finds little more +promising on footing that retains but for +an instant the subtle trace of reynard's +unmarked passage.</p> + +<p>The delicate curves and circles that +the bent weeds etched on the soft snow +are widened and deepened in rigid +grooves, wherein the point that the fingers +of the wind traced them with is +frozen fast. Far and wide from where +they fall, all manner of seeds drift across +miles of smooth fields, to spring to life +and bloom, by and by, in strange, unaccustomed<span class="pagenum">[269]</span> +places, and brown leaves voyage +to where their like was never grown. +The icy knolls shine in the sunlight with +dazzling splendor, like golden islands in +a white sea that the north wind stirs +not, and athwart it the low sun and the +waning moon cast their long unrippled +glades of gold and silver. Over all winter +again holds sway, but we have once +more heard the sound of rain and running +brooks and have been given a promise +of spring.<span class="pagenum">[270]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LIV" id="LIV"></a>LIV</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE FOX</p> + +<p>Among the few survivals of the old untamed +world there are left us two that +retain all the raciness of their ancestral +wildness.</p> + +<p>Their wits have been sharpened by +the attrition of civilization, but it has +not smoothed their characteristics down +to the level of the commonplace, nor +contaminated them with acquired vices +as it has their ancient contemporary, the +Indian. But they are held in widely +different esteem, for while the partridge +is in a manner encouraged in continuance, +the fox is an outlaw, with a price +set upon his head to tempt all but his +few contemned friends to compass his +extermination.</p> + +<p>For these and for him there is an unwritten +code that, stealthily enforced, +gives him some exemption from universal +persecution. They, having knowledge<span class="pagenum">[271]</span> +of the underground house of many +portals where the vixen rears her cubs, +guard the secret as jealously as she and +her lord, from the unfriendly farmer, +poultry-wife, and bounty-hunting vagabond, +confiding it only to sworn brethren +of woodcraft, as silent concerning +it to the unfriendly as the trees that +shadow its booty-strewn precincts or the +lichened rocks that fortify it against +pick and spade. They never tell even +their leashed hounds till autumn makes +the woods gayer with painted leaves +than summer could with blossoms, how +they have seen the master and mistress +of this woodland home stealing to it +with a fare of field mice fringing their +jaws or bearing a stolen lamb or pullet.</p> + +<p>They watch from some unseen vantage, +with amused kindliness, the gambols +of the yellow cubs about their +mother, alert for danger, even in her +drowsy weariness, and proud of her impish +brood, even now practicing tricks of +theft and cunning on each other. They +become abetters of this family's sins, +apologists for its crimes, magnifiers of +its unmeant well-doing.<span class="pagenum">[272]</span></p> + +<p>When in palliation of the slaughter of +a turkey that has robbed a field of his +weight in corn they offset the destruction +of hordes of field mice, they are +reviled by those who are righteously exalted +above the idleness of hunting and +the foolishness of sentiment.</p> + +<p>At such hands one fares no better +who covets the fox, not for the sport he +may give, but for the tang of wild flavor +that he imparts to woods that have +almost lost it and to fields that lose +nothing of thrift by its touch.</p> + +<p>You may not see him, but it is good +to know that anything so untamed has +been so recently where your plodding +footsteps go. You see in last night's +snowfall the sharp imprint of his pads, +where he has deviously quested mice +under the mat of aftermath, or trotted +slowly, pondering, to other more promising +fields, or there gone airily coursing +away over the moonlit pastures. In +imagination you see all his agile gaits +and graceful poses. Now listening with +pricked ears to the muffled squeak of a +mouse, now pouncing upon his captured +but yet unseen prize, or where on sudden<span class="pagenum">[273]</span> +impulse he has coursed to fresh +fields, you see him, a dusky phantom, +gliding with graceful undulations of +lithe body and brush over the snowy +stretches; or, halting to wistfully sniff, +as a wolf a sheepfold, the distant henroost; +or, where a curious labyrinth of +tracks imprint the snow, you have a +vision of him dallying with his tawny +sweetheart under the stars of February +skies; or, by this soft mould of his furry +form on a snow-capped stump or boulder, +you picture him sleeping off the fatigue +of hunting and love-making, with all +senses but sight still alert, unharmed by +the nipping air that silvers his whiskers +with his own breath.</p> + +<p>All these realities of his actual life +you may not see except in such pictures +as your fancy makes; but when the +woods are many-hued or brown in autumn, +or gray and white in winter, and +stirred with the wild music of the +hounds, your blood may be set tingling +by the sight of him, his coming announced +by the rustle of leaves under +his light footfalls. Perhaps unheralded<span class="pagenum">[274]</span> +by sound, he suddenly blooms ruddily +out of the dead whiteness of the snow.</p> + +<p>Whether he flies past or carefully +picks his way along a fallen tree or bare +ledge, you remark his facial expression +of incessant intentness on cunning devices, +while ears, eyes, and nose are +alert for danger. If he discovers you, +with what ready self-possession he instantly +gets and keeps a tree between +himself and you and vanishes while your +gun vainly searches for its opportunity. +If your shot brings him down, and you +stand over him exultant, yet pitying the +end of his wild life, even in his death +throes fearing you no more, he yet +strains his dulled ears to catch the voices +of the relentless hounds.</p> + +<p>Bravely the wild freebooter holds his +own against the encroachments of civilization +and the persecution of mankind, +levying on the flocks and broods of his +enemy, rearing his yellow cubs in the +very border of his field, insulting him +with nightly passage by his threshold.</p> + +<p>Long ago his fathers bade farewell to +their grim cousin the wolf, and saw the +beaver and the timid deer pass away,<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> +and he sees the eagle almost banished +from its double realm of earth and sky, +yet he hardily endures. For what he +preserves for us of the almost extinct +wildness, shall we begrudge him the +meagre compensation of an occasional +turkey?<span class="pagenum">[276]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LV" id="LV"></a>LV</h2> + +<p class="caption">AN ICE-STORM</p> + +<p>Of all the vagaries of winter weather, +one of the rarest is the ice-storm; rain +falling with a wind and from a quarter +that should bring snow, and freezing as +it falls, not penetrating the snow but +coating it with a shining armor, sheathing +every branch and twig in crystal and +fringing eaves with icicles of most fantastic +shapes.</p> + +<p>On ice-clad roofs and fields and crackling +trees the rain still beats with a +leaden clatter, unlike any other sound of +rain; unlike the rebounding pelting of +hail or the swish of wind-blown snow.</p> + +<p>The trees begin to stoop under their +increasing burden, and then to crack +and groan as it is laid still heavier upon +them. At times is heard the thin, echoless +crash of an overladen branch, first +bending to its downfall with a gathering +crackle of severed fibres, then with a<span class="pagenum">[277]</span> +sudden crash, shattering in a thousand +fragments the brief adornments that +have wrought its destruction.</p> + +<p>Every kind of tree has as marked individuality +in its icy garniture as in its +summer foliage. The gracefulness of +the elms, the maples, the birches, the +beeches, and the hornbeams is preserved +and even intensified; the clumsy ramage +of the butternut and ash is as stiff as +ever, though every unbending twig bears +its row of glittering pendants. The +hemlocks and firs are tents of ice, but +the pines are still pines, with every +needle exaggerated in bristling crystal.</p> + +<p>Some worthless things have become +of present value, as the wayside thistles +and the bejeweled grass of an unshorn +meadow, that yesterday with its dun +unsightliness, rustling above the snow, +proclaimed the shiftlessness of its owner.</p> + +<p>Things most unpicturesque are made +beautiful. The wire of the telegraph +with its dull undulations is transformed +to festoons of crystal fringe, linking together +shining pillars of glass that yesterday +were but bare, unsightly posts.</p> + +<p>The woods are a maze of fantastic<span class="pagenum">[278]</span> +shapes of tree growth. Wood roads are +barricaded with low arches of ice that +the hare and the fox can barely find +passage beneath, and with long, curved +slants of great limbs bent to the earth. +The wild vines are turned to ropes and +cables of ice, and have dragged down +their strong supports, about whose prostrate +trunks and limbs they writhe in a +tangle of rigid coils. The lithe trunks +of second growth are looped in an intricate +confusion of arches one upon another, +many upon one, over whole acres +of low-roofed forest floor.</p> + +<p>The hare and the grouse cower in these +tents of ice, frightened and hungry; for +every sprout and bud is sheathed in +adamant, and scarlet berries, magnified +and unattainable, glow in the heart of +crystal globules. Even the brave chickadees +are appalled, and the disheartened +woodpecker mopes beside the dead trunk, +behind whose impenetrable shield he can +hear the grub boring in safety.</p> + +<p>Through the frozen brambles that lattice +the doorway of his burrow the fox +peers dismayed upon a glassy surface +that will hold no scent of quarry, yet<span class="pagenum">[279]</span> +perhaps is comforted that the same conditions +impose a truce upon his enemies +the hounds. The squirrel sits fasting +in his chamber, longing for the stores +that are locked from their owner in his +cellar. It is the dismalest of all storms +for the wood folk, despite all the splendor +wherewith it adorns their realm.</p> + +<p>One holds out his hand and lifts his +face skyward to assure himself that the +rain has ceased, for there is a continual +clattering patter as if it were yet falling. +But it is only the crackling of the icy +trees and the incessant dropping of +small fragments of their burden.</p> + +<p>The gray curtain of the sky drifts +asunder, and the low sun shines through. +It glorifies the earth with the flash and +gleam of ten million diamonds set everywhere. +The fire and color of every gem +that was ever delved burn along the borders +of the golden pathway that stretches +from your feet far away to the silver portals +of the mountains that bar our glittering +world from the flaming sky.</p> + +<p>The pallid gloom of the winter night +falls upon the earth. Then the full moon +throbs up behind the scintillating barrier<span class="pagenum">[280]</span> +of the hills. She presently paves from +herself to us a street of silver among the +long blue shadows, and lights it with a +thousand stars; some fallen quite to +earth, some twinkling among the drooping +branches, all as bright as the eternal +stars that shine in the blue sky above.<span class="pagenum">[281]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LVI" id="LVI"></a>LVI</h2> + +<p class="caption">SPARE THE TREES</p> + +<p>All the protection that the law can +give will not prevent the game naturally +belonging to a wooded country from +leaving it when it is deforested, nor keep +fish in waters that have shrunk to a +quarter of their ordinary volume before +midsummer. The streams of such a +country will thus shrink when the mountains, +where the snows lie latest and the +feeding springs are, and the swamps, +which dole out their slow but steady +tribute, are bereft of shade. The thin +soil of a rocky hill, when deprived of its +shelter of branches, will be burned by +the summer sun out of all power to help +the germination of any worthy seed, or +to nurture so noble a plant as a tree +through the tender days of its infancy. +It supports only useless weeds and +brambles. Once so denuded, it will be +unsightly and unprofitable for many<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> +years if not always. Some swamps at +great expense may be brought into tillage +and meadow, but nine times out of +ten, when cleared of the lusty growth of +woods, they bear nothing but wild grass, +and the streams that trickled from them +all the summer long in their days of wildness +show in August only the parched +trail of the spring course.</p> + +<p>Our natives have inherited their ancestors' +hatred of trees, which to them +were only cumberers of the ground, to +be got rid of by the speediest means; +and our foreign-born landholders, being +unused to so much woodland, think there +can be no end to it, let them slash away +as they will.</p> + +<p>Ledges and steep slopes that can bear +nothing but wood to any profit, are shorn +of their last tree, and the margins of +streams to the very edge robbed of the +willows and water-maples that shaded +the water and with their roots protected +the banks from washing. Who has not +known a little alder swamp, in which he +was sure to find a dozen woodcock, when +he visited it on the first day of the season +each year? Some year the first day<span class="pagenum">[283]</span> +comes and he seeks it as usual, to find +its place marked only by brush heaps, +stubs, and sedges; and for the brook +that wimpled through it in the days of +yore, only stagnant pools. The worst of +it is, the owners can seldom give any +reason for this slaughter but that their +victims were trees and bushes.</p> + +<p>The Yankee, with his proverbial thriftiness +and forecast, appears entirely to +lose these gifts when it comes to the +proper and sensible management of +woodlands. Can he not understand that +it is more profitable to keep a lean or +thin soil that will grow nothing well but +wood, growing wood instead of worthless +weeds? The crop is one which is slow +in coming to the harvest, but it is a sure +one, and is every year becoming a more +valuable one. It breaks the fierceness +of the winds, and keeps the springs from +drying up, and is a comfort to the eye, +whether in the greenness of the leaf or +the barrenness of the bough, and under +its protecting arms live and breed the +grouse, the quail and the hare, and in its +shadowed rills swim the trout.<span class="pagenum">[284]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="LVII" id="LVII"></a>LVII</h2> + +<p class="caption">THE CHICKADEE</p> + +<p>The way to the woods is blurred with +a mist of driven snow that veils the +portal of the forest with its upblown +curtain, and blots out all paths, and gives +to the familiar landmarks a ghostly unreality. +The quietude of the woods is +disturbed by turbulent voices, the angry +roar and shriek of the wind, the groaning +and clashing of writhing, tormented trees. +Over all, the sunned but unwarmed sky +bends its blue arch, as cold as the snowy +fields and woods beneath it.</p> + +<p>In such wild weather you are not +tempted far abroad in quest of old acquaintances +of fields and woods, yet from +the inhospitable woods some of them +come to you. Among them all, none is +more welcome than that feathered atom +of life, the chickadee. With the same +blithe note that welcomed you to his +woodland haunts in spring, in summer,<span class="pagenum">[285]</span> +and in autumn, when he attended you +with such charming familiarity, amusing +you with pretty acrobatic feats, as he +flitted now before, now beside, now +above you, he hails you now, and asks +that hospitality be extended to him.</p> + +<p>Set forth a feast of suet on the window-sill, +and he will need no bidding to +come and partake of it. How daintily +he helps himself to the tiniest morsels, +never cramming his bill with gross +mouthfuls as do his comrades at the +board, the nuthatch and the downy woodpecker! +They, like unbidden guests, +doubtful of welcome or of sufferance +even, make the most of time that may +prove all too brief, and gorge themselves +as greedily as hungry tramps; while he, +unscared by your face at the window, +tarries at his repast, pecking his crumbs +with leisurely satisfaction. You half expect +to see him swept from your sight +like a thistledown by the gusty blast, but +he holds bravely to his perch, unruffled +in spirit if not in feathers, and defies +his fierce assailant with his oft-repeated +challenge.</p> + +<p>As often as you spread the simple<span class="pagenum">[286]</span> +feast for him he will come and sit at +your board, a confiding guest, well assured +of welcome, and will repay you +with an example of cheerful life in the +midst of dreariness and desolation. In +the still, bright days, his cheery voice +rings through the frosty air, and when +the thick veil of the snow falls in a wavering +slant from the low sky its muffled +cadence still heartens you.</p> + +<p>What an intense spark of vitality +must it be that warms such a mite in +such an immensity of cold; that floats +his little life in this deluge of frigid +air, and keeps him in song while we +are dumb with shivering! If our huge +hulks were endowed with proportionate +vitality, how easily we might solve the +mysteries of the frozen north!</p> + +<p>On some February day, when the first +promise of spring is drifted to you in the +soft south wind, the tenderness of spring +is voiced in his love-note, brief but full +of melody, and sweet as the evening song +of the wood pewee. When the spring +songsters come, he takes leave of you. +He has seen you safely through the winter, +and departs to the woods on affairs<span class="pagenum">[287]</span> +of his own. He is no longer a vagrant, +but at home in his own greenwood, yet +as unfretted by the cares of housekeeping +as he was by the heavy weariness of +winter.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In New England Fields and Woods, by +Rowland E. 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Robinson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In New England Fields and Woods + +Author: Rowland E. Robinson + +Release Date: July 25, 2011 [EBook #36844] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Katherine Ward, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + By Rowland E. Robinson + + OUT OF BONDAGE. 16mo, $1.25. + + IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS. 16mo, $1.25. + + DANVIS FOLKS. A Novel. 16mo. $1.25. + + UNCLE 'LISHA'S OUTING. 16mo, $1.25. + + A DANVIS PIONEER. 16mo, $1.25. + + SAM LOVEL'S BOY. 16mo, $1.25. + + VERMONT: A Study of Independence. In American + Commonwealths Series. With Map. + 16mo, gilt top, $1.25. + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + In New England Fields and Woods + + + By Rowland E. Robinson + + + _Boston and New York_ + Houghton, Mifflin and Company + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + + Copyright, 1896, + BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER + + THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED + + + The weather and the changes of the seasons are such common and + convenient topics that one need not apologize for talking about + them, though he says nothing new. + + Still less need one make an apology if he becomes garrulous in + relation to scenes which are now hidden from him by a curtain of + darkness, or concerning some humble acquaintances with whom he + was once on familiar terms, but who now and hereafter can only + be memories, though they are yet near him and he may still hear + their voices. + + So without excuse I offer this collection of sketches, which + with a few exceptions were first published in the columns of + "Forest and Stream." + R. E. R. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. THE NAMELESS SEASON + II. MARCH DAYS + III. THE HOME FIRESIDE + IV. THE CROW + V. THE MINK + VI. APRIL DAYS + VII. THE WOODCHUCK + VIII. THE CHIPMUNK + IX. SPRING SHOOTING + X. THE GARTER-SNAKE + XI. THE TOAD + XII. MAY DAYS + XIII. THE BOBOLINK + XIV. THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER + XV. JUNE DAYS + XVI. THE BULLFROG + XVII. THE ANGLER + XVIII. FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS + XIX. TO A TRESPASS SIGN + XX. A GENTLE SPORTSMAN + XXI. JULY DAYS + XXII. CAMPING OUT + XXIII. THE CAMP-FIRE + XXIV. A RAINY DAY IN CAMP + XXV. AUGUST DAYS + XXVI. A VOYAGE IN THE DARK + XXVII. THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE + XXVIII. THE RACCOON + XXIX. THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE + XXX. SEPTEMBER DAYS + XXXI. A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED + XXXII. THE SKUNK + XXXIII. A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD + XXXIV. THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE + XXXV. OCTOBER DAYS + XXXVI. A COMMON EXPERIENCE + XXXVII. THE RED SQUIRREL + XXXVIII. THE RUFFED GROUSE + XXXIX. TWO SHOTS + XL. NOVEMBER DAYS + XLI. THE MUSKRAT + XLII. NOVEMBER VOICES + XLIII. THANKSGIVING + XLIV. DECEMBER DAYS + XLV. WINTER VOICES + XLVI. THE VARYING HARE + XLVII. THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE + XLVIII. JANUARY DAYS + XLIX. A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE + L. A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION + LI. THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS + LII. THE WEASEL + LIII. FEBRUARY DAYS + LIV. THE FOX + LV. AN ICE-STORM + LVI. SPARE THE TREES + LVII. THE CHICKADEE + + + + +IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS + + + + +I + +THE NAMELESS SEASON + + +In the March page of our almanac, opposite the 20th of the month we find +the bold assertion, "Now spring begins;" but in the northern part of New +England, for which this almanac was especially compiled, the weather +does not bear out the statement. + +The snow may be gone from the fields except in grimy drifts, in hollows +and along fences and woodsides; but there is scarcely a sign of spring +in the nakedness of pasture, meadow, and ploughed land, now more dreary +in the dun desolation of lifeless grass, debris of stacks, and black +furrows than when the first snow covered the lingering greenness of +December. + +It is quite as likely that the open lands are still under the worn and +dusty blanket of snow, smirched with all the litter cast upon it by +cross-lot-faring teams, and wintry winds blowing for months from every +quarter. The same untidiness pervades all outdoors. We could never +believe that so many odds and ends could have been thrown out of doors +helter-skelter, in three months of ordinary life, till the proof +confronts us on the surface of the subsiding snow or lies stranded on +the bare earth. The wind comes with an icier breath from the wintrier +north, and yet blows untempered from the south, over fields by turns +frozen and sodden, through which the swollen brooks rush in yellow +torrents with sullen monotonous complaint. + +One may get more comfort in the woods, though the snow still lies deep +in their shelter; for here may be found the sugar-maker's camp, with its +mixed odors of pungent smoke and saccharine steam, its wide environment +of dripping spouts and tinkling tin buckets, signs that at last the +pulse of the trees is stirred by a subtle promise of returning spring. + +The coarse-grained snow is strewn thickly with shards of bark that the +trees have sloughed in their long hibernation, with shreds and tatters +of their tempest-torn branches. But all this litter does not offend the +eye nor look out of place, like that which is scattered in fields and +about homesteads. When this three months' downfall of fragments sinks to +the carpet of flattened leaves, it will be at one with it, an inwoven +pattern, as comely as the shifting mesh of browner shadows that trunks +and branches weave between the splashes of sunshine. Among these is a +garnishment of green moss patches and fronds of perennial ferns which +tell of life that the stress of winter could not overcome. One may +discover, amid the purple lobes of the squirrelcup leaves, downy buds +that promise blossoms, and others, callower, but of like promise, under +the rusty links of the arbutus chain. + +One hears the resonant call of a woodpecker rattled out on a seasoned +branch or hollow stub, and may catch the muffled beat of the partridge's +drum, silent since the dreamy days of Indian summer, now throbbing +again in slow and accelerated pulsations of evasive sound through the +unroofed arches of the woodlands. And one may hear, wondering where the +poor vagrants find food and water, the wild clangor of the geese +trumpeting their aerial northward march, and the quick whistle of the +wild duck's pinions,--hear the carol of an untimely bluebird and the +disconsolate yelp of a robin; but yet it is not spring. + +Presently comes a great downfall of snow, making the earth beautiful +again with a whiteness outshining that of the winter that is past. The +damp flakes cling to every surface, and clothe wall, fence and tree, +field and forest, with a more radiant mantle than the dusty snow and +slanted sunshine of winter gave them. + +There is nothing hopeful of spring but a few meagre signs, and the +tradition that spring has always come heretofore. + +It is not winter, it is not spring, but a season with an individuality +as marked as either, yet without a name. + + + + +II + +MARCH DAYS + + +Back and forth across the land, in swift and sudden alternation, the +March winds toss days of bitter cold and days of genial warmth, now out +of the eternal winter of the north, now from the endless summer of the +tropics. + +Repeated thawing and freezing has given the snow a coarse grain. It is +like a mass of fine hailstones and with no hint of the soft and feathery +flakes that wavered down like white blossoms shed from the unseen bloom +of some far-off upper world and that silently transformed the +unseemliness of the black and tawny earth into the beauty of immaculate +purity. + +One day, when the wind breathes from the south a continuous breath of +warmth, your feet sink into this later coarseness come of its base +earthly association, with a grinding slump, as in loose wet sand, so +deep, perhaps, that your tracks are gray puddles, marking your toilsome +way. + +As you wallow on, or perch for a moment's rest on a naked fence-top +among the smirched drifts, you envy the crows faring so easily along +their aerial paths above you. How pleasant are the voices of these +returning exiles, not enemies now, but friendly messengers, bringing +tidings of spring. You do not begrudge them the meagre feasts they find, +the frozen apple still hanging, brown and wrinkled, in the bare orchard, +or the winter-killed youngling of flock or herd, cast forth upon a +dunghill, and which discovered, one generous vagabond calls all his +black comrades to partake of. + +Watching them as they lag across the sky, yet swifter than the white +clouds drift above them, you presently note that these stand still, as +you may verify by their blue shadows on the snow, lying motionless, with +the palpitating shadows of the crows plunging into them on this side, +then, lost for an instant in the blue obscurity, then, emerging on that +side with the same untiring beat of shadowy wings. A puff of wind comes +out of the north, followed by an angry gust, and then a howling wintry +blast that the crows stagger against in labored flight as they make for +the shelter of the woods. + +You, too, toil to shelter and fireside warmth, and are thankful to be +out of the biting wind and the treacherous footing. The change has come +so suddenly that the moist, grainy snow is frozen before it has time to +leach, and in a little while gives you a surface most delightful to walk +upon, and shortens distances to half what they were. It has lost its +first pure whiteness wherewith no other whiteness can compare, but it is +yet beyond all things else, and in the sunlight dazzles you with a broad +glare and innumerable scintillating points of light, as intense as the +sun itself. + +The sunshine, the bracing air, the swaying boughs of the pines and +hemlocks beckoning at the woodside, and the firm smooth footing, +irresistibly invite you forth. Your feet devour the way with crisp +bites, and you think that nothing could be more pleasant to them till +you are offered a few yards of turf, laid bare by winds and sun, and +then you realize that nothing is quite so good as the old stand-by, a +naked ground, and crave more of it, even as this is, and hunger for it +with its later garnishing of grass and flowers. The crows, too, are +drawn to these bare patches and are busy upon them, and you wonder what +they can find; spiders, perhaps, for these you may see in thawy days +crawling sluggishly over the snow, where they must have come from the +earth. + +The woods are astir with more life than a month ago. The squirrels are +busy and noisy, the chickadees throng about you, sometimes singing their +sweet brief song of three notes; the nuthatches pipe their tiny trumpets +in full orchestra, and the jays are clamoring their ordinary familiar +cries with occasional notes that you do not often hear. One of these is +a soft, rapidly uttered cluck, the bird all the time dancing with his +body, but not with his feet, to his own music, which is pleasant to the +ear, especially when you remember it is a jay's music, which in the main +cannot be recommended. To-day, doubtless, he is practicing the +allurements of the mating season. + +You hear the loud cackle of a logcock making the daily round of his +preserves, but you are not likely to get more than a glimpse of his +black plumage or a gleam of his blood-red crest. + +By rare luck you may hear the little Acadian owl filing his invisible +saw, but you are likelier to see him and mistake him for a clot of last +year's leaves lodged midway in their fall to earth. + +The forest floor, barred and netted with blue shadows of trunks and +branches, is strewn with dry twigs, evergreen leaves, shards of bark, +and shreds of tree-moss and lichen, with heaps of cone scales,--the +squirrel's kitchen middens,--the sign of a partridge's nightly roosting, +similar traces of the hare's moonlight wanderings, and perhaps a fluff +of his white fur, showing where his journeys have ended forever in a +fox's maw. + +Here and there the top of a cradle knoll crops out of the snow with its +patches of green moss, sturdy upright stems and leaves and red berries +of wintergreen, as fresh as when the first snow covered them, a rusty +trail of mayflower leaves, and the flat-pressed purple lobes of +squirrelcup with a downy heart of buds full of the promise of spring. + +The woods are filled with a certain subtle scent quite distinct from the +very apparent resinous and balsamic aroma of the evergreens, that eludes +description, but as a kind of freshness that tickles the nose with +longing for a more generous waft of it. You can trace it to no source, +as you can the odors of the pine and the hemlocks or the sweet fragrance +of the boiling sap, coming from the sugar-maker's camp with a pungent +mixture of wood-smoke. You are also made aware that the skunk has been +abroad, that reynard is somewhere to windward, and by an undescribed, +generally unrecognized, pungency in the air that a gray squirrel lives +in your neighborhood. Yet among all these more potent odors you still +discover this subtle exhalation, perhaps of the earth filtered upward +through the snow, perhaps the first awakening breath of all the +deciduous trees. + +Warmer shines the sun and warmer blows the wind from southern seas and +southern lands. More and more the tawny earth comes in sight among +puddles of melted snow, which bring the mirrored sky and its fleecy +flocks of clouds, with treetops turned topsy-turvy, down into the bounds +of fields. The brooks are alive again and babbling noisily over their +pebbled beds, and the lake, hearing them, groans and cries for +deliverance from its prison of ice. + +On the marshes you may find the ice shrunken from the shores and an +intervening strip of water where the muskrat may see the sun and the +stars again. You hear the trumpets of the wild geese and see the gray +battalion riding northward on the swift wind. + +The sun and the south wind, which perhaps bears some faint breath of +stolen fragrance from far-off violet banks, tempt forth the bees, but +they find no flowers yet, not even a squirrelcup or willow catkin, and +can only make the most of the fresh sawdust by the wood-pile and the +sappy ends of maple logs. + +Down from the sky, whose livery he wears and whose song he sings, comes +the heavenly carol of the bluebird; the song sparrow trills his cheery +melody; the first robin is announced to-day, and we cry, "Lo, spring has +come." But to-morrow may come winter and longer waiting. + + + + +III + +THE HOME FIRESIDE + + +Weeks ago the camp-fire shed its last glow in the deserted camp, its +last thin thread of smoke was spun out and vanished in the silent air, +and black brands and gray ashes were covered in the even whiteness of +the snow. The unscared fox prowls above them in curious exploration of +the desolate shanty, where wood-mice are domiciled and to whose sunny +side the partridge comes to bask; the woodpecker taps unbidden to enter +or departs from the always open door; and under the stars that glitter +through the net of branches the owl perches on the snowy ridge and mopes +in undisturbed solemnity. + +For a time, camping-days are over for the sportsman, and continue only +for the lumberman, the trapper, and the merciless crust-hunter, who +makes his secret lair in the depths of the forest. In the chill days +and evenings that fall first in the interim between winter and summer +camping, the man who makes his outings for sport and pleasure must +content himself by his own fireside, whose constant flame burns +throughout the year. + +Well may he be content when the untempered winds of March howl like a +legion of wolves at his door, snow and sleet pelt roof and pane with a +continuous volley from the lowering sky, or when the chilly silence of +the last winter nights is broken by the sharp crack of frozen trees and +timbers, as if a hidden band of riflemen were besieging the house. Well +may he be content, then, with the snug corner of his own hearthstone, +around which are gathered the good wife, the children, and his camp +companions, the dogs. + +Better than the camp, is this cosy comfort in days and nights such as +these, or in those that fall within that unnamed season that lies +between winter and spring, when, if one stirs abroad, his feet have +sorry choice between saturated snow and oozy mould,--a dismal season +but for its promise of brighter days, of free streams, green trees, and +bird songs. + +Better, now, this genial glow that warms one's marrow than the camp-fire +that smokes or roasts one's front while his back freezes. With what +perfect contentment one mends his tackle and cleans his gun for coming +days of sport, while the good wife reads racy records of camp-life from +Maine to California, and he listens with attention half diverted by +break or rust spot, or with amused watching of the youngsters playing at +camping out. The callow campers assail him with demands for stories, and +he goes over, for their and his own enjoyment, old experiences in camp +and field, while the dogs dream by the fire of sport past or to +come,--for none but dogs know whether dog's dreams run backward or +forward. + +Long-used rod and gun suggest many a tale of past adventure as they +bring to mind recollections of days of sport such as may never come +again. The great logs in the fireplace might tell, if their flaming +tongues were given speech, of camps made long ago beneath their lusty +branches, and of such noble game as we shall never see,--moose, elk, +deer, panther, wolf, and bear, which are but spectres in the shadowy +forest of the past. But the red tongues only roar and hiss as they lick +the crackling sinews of oak and hickory, and tell nothing that ordinary +ears may catch. Yet one is apt to fall dreaming of bygone days, and then +of days that may come to be spent by pleasant summer waters and in the +woods gorgeous with the ripeness of autumn. + +So one is like to dream till he awakens and finds himself left with only +the dogs for comrades, before the flameless embers, deserted even by the +shadows that erstwhile played their grotesque pranks behind him. Cover +the coals as if they were to kindle to-morrow's camp-fire, put the +yawning dogs to bed, and then to bed and further dreaming. + + + + +IV + +THE CROW + + +The robin's impatient yelp not yet attuned to happy song, the song +sparrow's trill, the bluebird's serene melody, do not herald the coming +of spring, but attend its vanguard. These blithe musicians accompany the +soft air that bares the fields, empurples the buds, and fans the bloom +of the first squirrelcups and sets the hyla's shrill chime a-ringing. + +Preceding these, while the fields are yet an unbroken whiteness and the +coping of the drifts maintain the fantastic grace of their storm-built +shapes, before a recognized waft of spring is felt or the voice of a +freed stream is heard, comes that sable pursuivant, the crow, fighting +his way against the fierce north wind, tossed alow and aloft, buffeted +to this side and that, yet staggering bravely onward, and sounding his +trumpet in the face of his raging antagonist, and far in advance of its +banners, proclaiming spring. + +It is the first audible promise of the longed-for season, and it +heartens us, though there be weary days of waiting for its fulfillment, +while the bold herald is beset by storm and pinched with hunger as he +holds his outpost and gleans his scant rations in the winter-desolated +land. + +He finds some friendliness in nature even now. Though her forces assail +him with relentless fury, she gives him here the shelter of her +evergreen tents, in windless depths of woodland; bares for him there a +rood of sward or stubble whereon to find some crumb of comfort; leaves +for him ungathered apples on the naked boughs, and on the unpruned +tangles of vines wild grapes,--poor raisins of the frost,--the remnants +of autumnal feasts of the robins and partridges. + +Thankful now for such meagre fare and eager for the fullness of +disgusting repasts, in the bounty of other seasons, he becomes an +epicure whom only the choicest food will satisfy. He has the pick of +the fattest grubs; he makes stealthy levies on the earliest robins' +nests; and from some lofty lookout or aerial scout watches the farmer +plant the corn and awaits its sprouting into the dainty tidbits, a +fondness for whose sweetness is his overmastering weakness. For this he +braves the terrible scarecrow and the dread mystery of the cornfield's +lined boundary, for this risks life and forfeits the good name that his +better deeds might give him. If he would not be tempted from grubs and +carrion, what a worthy bird he might be accounted. In what good if +humble repute might he live, how lamented, die. O Appetite! thou base +belly-denned demon, for what sins of birds and men art thou accountable! + +In the springtide days, the crow turns aside from theft and robbery to +the softer game of love, whereunto you hear the harsh voice attuned in +cluttering notes. After the wooing the pair begin house building and +keeping. + +It is the rudest and clumsiest of all bird architecture that has become +the centre of their cares--such a jumble of sticks and twigs as chance +might pile on its forked foundations; but woe betide the hawk who +ventures near, or owl who dares to sound his hollow trumpet in the +sacred precincts. At the first alarm signal, as suddenly and +mysteriously as Robin Hood's merry men appeared at the winding of his +horn, the black clansmen rally from every quarter of the greenwood, to +assail the intruder and force him to ignominious retreat. + +When at last the young crows, having clad their uncouth nakedness with +full sable raiment, are abroad in the world, they, with unwary +foolhardiness and incessant querulous cries of hunger or alarm, are +still a constant source of anxiety to parents and kindred. But in the +late summer, when the youngsters have come to months of discretion and +the elders are freed from the bondage of their care, a long holiday +begins for all the tribe. The corn has long since ceased to tempt them, +and the persecution of man has abated. The shorn meadows and the +close-cropped pastures swarm with grasshoppers, and field and forest +offer their abundant fruits. + +Careless and uncared for, what happy lives they lead, sauntering on +sagging wing through the sunshine from chosen field to chosen wood, and +at nightfall encamping in the fragrant tents of the pines. + +At last the gay banners of autumn signal departure, and the gathered +clans file away in straggling columns, flecking the blue sky with +pulsating dots of blackness, the green earth with wavering shadows. +Sadly we watch the retreat of the sable cohorts, whose desertion leaves +our northern homes to the desolation of winter. + + + + +V + +THE MINK + + +This little fur-bearer, whose color has been painted darker than it is, +singularly making his name proverbial for blackness, is an old +acquaintance of the angler and the sportsman, but not so familiar to +them and the country boy as it was twoscore years ago. + +It was a woeful day for the tribe of the mink when it became the fashion +for other folk to wear his coat, which he could only doff with the +subtler garment of life. + +Throughout the term of his exaltation to the favor of fashion, he was +lain in wait for at his own door and on his thoroughfares and by-paths +by the traps, dead-falls, and guns of professional and amateur trappers +and hunters, till the fate of his greater cousin the otter seemed to +overtake him. But the fickle empress who raised him to such perilous +estate, changing her mood, thrust him down almost to his old ignoble but +safer rank, just in time to avert the impending doom of extermination. +Once more the places that knew him of old, know him again. + +In the March snow you may trace the long span of his parallel footprints +where, hot with the rekindled annual fire of love, he has sped on his +errant wooing, turning not aside for the most tempting bait, halting not +for rest, hungering only for a sweetheart, wearied with nothing but +loneliness. Yet weary enough would you be if you attempted to follow the +track of but one night's wandering along the winding brook, through the +tangle of windfalls, and across the rugged ledges that part stream from +stream. When you go fishing in the first days of summer, you may see the +fruits of this early springtide wooing in the dusky brood taking their +primer-lesson in the art that their primogenitors were adepts in before +yours learned it. How proud one baby fisher is of his first captured +minnow, how he gloats over it and defends his prize from his envious +and less fortunate brothers. + +When summer wanes, they will be a scattered family, each member shifting +for himself. Some still haunt the alder thicket where they first saw +light, whose netted shadows of bare branches have thickened about them +to continued shade of leafage, in whose midday twilight the red flame of +the cardinal flower burns as a beacon set to guide the dusky wanderer +home. Others have adventured far down the winding brook to the river, +and followed its slowing current, past rapids and cataract, to where it +crawls through the green level of marshes beloved of water fowl and of +gunners, whose wounded victims, escaping them, fall an easy prey to the +lurking mink. + +Here, too, in their season are the tender ducklings of wood duck, teal, +and dusky duck, and, all the year round, fat muskrats, which furnish for +the price of conquest a banquet that the mink most delights in. + +In the wooded border are homes ready builded for him under the +buttressed trunks of elms, or in the hollow boles of old water maples, +and hidden pathways through fallen trees and under low green arches of +ferns. + +With such a home and such bountiful provision for his larder close at +hand, what more could the heart and stomach of mink desire? Yet he may +not be satisfied, but longs for the wider waters of the lake, whose +translucent depths reveal to him all who swim beneath him, fry +innumerable; perch displaying their scales of gold, shiners like silver +arrows shot through the green water, the lesser bass peering out of +rocky fastnesses, all attainable to this daring fisher, but not his +great rivals, the bronze-mailed bass and the mottled pike, whose jaws +are wide enough to engulf even him. + +Here, while you rest on your idle oar or lounge with useless rod, you +may see him gliding behind the tangled net of cedar roots, or venturing +forth from a cranny of the rocks down to the brink, and launching +himself so silently that you doubt whether it is not a flitting shadow +till you see his noiseless wake breaking the reflections lengthening +out behind him. + +Of all swimmers that breathe the free air none can compare with him in +swiftness and in a grace that is the smooth and even flow of the poetry +of motion. Now he dives, or rather vanishes from the surface, nor +reappears till his wake has almost flickered out. + +His voyage accomplished, he at once sets forth on exploration of new +shores or progress through his established domain, and vanishes from +sight before his first wet footprints have dried on the warm rock where +he landed. + +You are glad to have seen him, thankful that he lives, and you hope +that, sparing your chickens and your share of trout, partridges, and +wild ducks, he too may be spared from the devices of the trapper to fill +his appointed place in the world's wildness. + + + + +VI + +APRIL DAYS + + +At last there is full and complete assurance of spring, in spite of the +baldness of the woods, the barrenness of the fields, bleak with sodden +furrows of last year's ploughing, or pallidly tawny with bleached grass, +and untidy with the jetsam of winter storms and the wide strewn litter +of farms in months of foddering and wood-hauling. + +There is full assurance of spring in such incongruities as a phoebe +a-perch on a brown mullein stalk in the midst of grimy snow banks, and +therefrom swooping in airy loops of flight upon the flies that buzz +across this begrimed remnant of winter's ermine, and of squirrelcups +flaunting bloom and fragrance in the face of an ice cascade, which, with +all its glitter gone, hangs in dull whiteness down the ledges, greening +the moss with the moisture of its wasting sheet of pearl. + +The woodchuck and chipmunk have got on top of the world again. You hear +the half querulous, half chuckling whistle of the one, the full-mouthed +persistent cluck of the other, voicing recognition of the season. + +The song of the brooks has abated something of its first triumphant +swell, and is often overborne now by the jubilant chorus of the birds, +the jangled, liquid gurgle and raucous grating of the blackbirds, the +robin's joyous song with its frequent breaks, as if the thronging notes +outran utterance, the too brief sweetness of the meadowlark's whistle, +the bluebird's carol, the cheery call of the phoebe, the trill of the +song sparrow, and above them all the triumph of the hawk in its regained +possessions of northern sky and earth. + +The woods throb with the muffled beat of the partridge's drum and the +sharp tattoo of the woodpecker, and are filled again with the sounds of +insect life, the spasmodic hum of flies, the droning monotone of bees +busy among the catkins and squirrelcups, and you may see a butterfly, +wavering among the gray trees, soon to come to the end of his life, +brief at its longest, drowned in the seductive sweets of a sap bucket. + +The squirrels are chattering over the wine of the maple branches they +have broached, in merrier mood than the hare, who limps over the matted +leaves in the raggedness of shifting raiment, fitting himself to a new +inconspicuousness. + +We shall not find it unpleasant nor unprofitable to take to the woods +now, for we may be sure that they are pleasanter than the untidy fields. +Where nature has her own way with herself, she makes her garb seemly +even now, after all the tousling and rents she gave it in her angry +winter moods. The scraps of moss, bark, and twigs with which the last +surface of the snow was obtrusively littered lie now unnoticed on the +flat-pressed leaves, an umber carpet dotted here with flecks of moss, +there sprigged with fronds of evergreen fern, purple leaves of +squirrelcups, with their downy buds and first blossoms. Between banks so +clad the brook babbles as joyously as amid all the bloom and leafage of +June, and catches a brighter gleam from the unobstructed sunbeams. So +befittingly are the trees arrayed in graceful tracery of spray and beads +of purpling buds, that their seemly nakedness is as beautiful as attire +of summer's greenness or autumn's gorgeousness could make them. + +Never sweeter than now, after the long silence of winter, do the birds' +songs sound, and never in all the round of the year is there a better +time to see them than when the gray haze of the branches is the only +hiding for their gay wedding garments. + +If you would try your skill at still-hunting, follow up that muffled +roll that throbs through the woods, and if you discover the ruffed +grouse strutting upon his favorite log, and undiscovered by him can +watch his proud performance, you will have done something better worth +boasting of than bringing him to earth from his hurtling flight. + +Out of the distant fields come, sweet and faint, the call of the +meadowlark and the gurgle of the blackbirds that throng the brookside +elms. From high overhead come down the clarion note of the goose, the +sibilant beat of the wild ducks' wings, the bleat of the snipe and the +plover's cry, each making his way to northern breeding grounds. Are you +not glad they are going as safely as their uncaught shadows that sweep +swiftly across the shadowy meshes of the forest floor? Are you not +content to see what you see, hear what you hear, and kill nothing but +time? + +Verily, you shall have a clearer conscience than if you were disturbing +the voice of nature with the discordant uproar of your gun, and marring +the fresh odors of spring with the fumes of villainous saltpetre. + +In the open marshes the lodges of the muskrats have gone adrift in the +floods; but the unhoused inmates count this a light misfortune, since +they may voyage again with heads above water, and go mate-seeking and +food-gathering in sunshine and starlight, undimmed by roof of ice. As +you see them cutting the smooth surface with long, swift, arrowy wakes, +coasting the low shore in quest of brown sweethearts and wives, +whimpering their plaintive call, you can hardly imagine the clumsy body +between that grim head and rudder-like tail capable of such graceful +motion. + +The painted wood drake swims above the submerged tree roots; a pair of +dusky ducks splash to flight, with a raucous clamor, out of a sedgy cove +at your approach; the thronging blackbirds shower liquid melody and hail +of discord from the purple-budded maples above you. All around, from the +drift of floating and stranded water weeds, arises the dry, crackling +croak of frogs, and from sunny pools the vibrant trill of toads. + +From afar come the watery boom of a bittern, the song of a trapper and +the hollow clang of his setting pole dropping athwart the gunwales of +his craft, the distant roar of a gun and the echoes rebounding from +shore to shore. + +The grateful odor of the warming earth comes to your nostrils; to your +ears, from every side, the sounds of spring; and yet you listen for +fuller confirmation of its presence in the long-drawn wail of the plover +and the rollicking melody of the bobolink. + + + + +VII + +THE WOODCHUCK + + +Chancing to pass a besmirched April snowbank on the border of a hollow, +you see it marked with the footprints of an old acquaintance of whom for +months you have not seen even so much as this. + +It is not that he made an autumnal pilgrimage, slowly following the +swift birds and the retreating sun, that you had no knowledge of him, +but because of his home-keeping, closer than a hermit's seclusion. These +few cautious steps, venturing but half way from his door to the tawny +naked grass that is daily edging nearer to his threshold, are the first +he has taken abroad since the last bright lingering leaf fluttered down +in the Indian summer haze, or perhaps since the leaves put on their +first autumnal tints. + +He had seen all the best of the year, the blooming of the first flowers, +the springing of the grass and its growth, the gathering of the +harvests and the ripening of fruits, and possibly the gorgeousness of +autumn melting into sombre gray. He had heard all the glad songs of all +the birds and the sad notes of farewell of bobolink and plover to their +summer home; he had seen the swallows depart and had heard the droning +of the bumblebee among the earliest and latest of his own clover +blossoms. All the best the world had to give in the round of her +seasons, luxuriant growth to feed upon, warm sunshine to bask in, he had +enjoyed; of her worst, he would have none. + +So he bade farewell to the gathering desolation of the tawny fields and +crept closer to the earth's warm heart to sleep through the long night +of winter, till the morning of spring. The wild scurry of wind-tossed +leaves swept above him unheard, and the pitiless beat of autumnal rain +and the raging of winter storms that heaped the drifts deeper and deeper +over his forsaken door. The bitterness of cold, that made the furred fox +and the muffled owl shiver, never touched him in his warm nest. So he +shirked the hardships of winter without the toil of a journey in +pursuit of summer, while the starved fox prowled in the desolate woods +and barren fields, the owl hunted beneath the cold stars, and the +squirrel delved in the snow for his meagre fare. + +By and by the ethereal but potent spirit of spring stole in where the +frost-elves could not enter, and awakening the earth awakened him. Not +by a slow and often impeded invasion of the senses, but as by the sudden +opening of a door, he sees the naked earth again warming herself in the +sun, and hears running water and singing birds. No wonder that with such +surprise the querulous tremolo of his whistle is sharply mingled with +these softer voices. + +Day by day as he sees the sun-loved banks blushing greener, he ventures +further forth to visit neighbors or watch his clover, or dig a new home +in a more favored bank, or fortify himself in some rocky stronghold +where boys and dogs may not enter. Now, the family may be seen moving, +with no burden of furniture or provision, but only the mother with her +gray cubs, carried as a cat carries her kittens, one by one to the new +home among the fresher clover. + +On the mound of newly digged earth before it, is that erect, motionless, +gray and russet form a half decayed stump uprising where no tree has +grown within your memory? You move a little nearer to inspect the +strange anomaly, and lo! it vanishes, and you know it was your old +acquaintance, the woodchuck, standing guard at his door and overlooking +his green and blossoming domain. + +Are you not sorry, to-day at least, to hear the boys and the dog +besieging him in his burrow or in the old stone wall wherein he has +taken sanctuary? Surely, the first beautiful days of his open-air life +should not be made so miserable that he would wish himself asleep again +in the safety and darkness of winter. But you remember that you were +once a boy, and your sympathies are divided between the young savages +and their intended prey, which after all is likelier than not to escape. + +He will tangle the meadow-grass and make free with the bean patch if he +chances upon it, yet you are glad to see the woodchuck, rejoicing like +yourself in the advent of spring. + + + + +VIII + +THE CHIPMUNK + + +As the woodchuck sleeps away the bitterness of cold, so in his narrower +chamber sleeps the chipmunk. Happy little hermit, lover of the sun, mate +of the song sparrow and the butterflies, what a goodly and hopeful token +of the earth's renewed life is he, verifying the promises of his own +chalices, the squirrelcups, set in the warmest corners of the woodside, +with libations of dew and shower drops, of the bluebird's carol, the +sparrow's song of spring. + +Now he comes forth from his long night into the fullness of sunlit day, +to proclaim his awakening to his summer comrades, a gay recluse clad all +in the motley, a jester, maybe, yet no fool. + +His voice, for all its monotony, is inspiring of gladness and +contentment, whether he utters his thin, sharp chip or full-mouthed +cluck, or laughs a chittering mockery as he scurries in at his narrow +door. + +He winds along his crooked pathway of the fence rails and forages for +half-forgotten nuts in the familiar grounds, brown with strewn leaves or +dun with dead grass. Sometimes he ventures to the top rail and climbs to +a giddy ten-foot height on a tree, whence he looks abroad, wondering, on +the wide expanse of an acre. + +Music hath charms for him, and you may entrance him with a softly +whistled tune and entice him to frolic with a herds-grass head gently +moved before him. + +When the fairies have made the white curd of mallow blossoms into +cheeses for the children and the chipmunk, it is a pretty sight to see +him gathering his share handily and toothily stripping off the green +covers, filling his cheek pouches with the dainty disks and scampering +away to his cellar with his ungrudged portion. Alack the day, when the +sweets of the sprouting corn tempt him to turn rogue, for then he +becomes a banned outlaw, and the sudden thunder of the gun announces +his tragic fate. He keeps well the secret of constructing his cunning +house, without a show of heaped or scattered soil at its entrance. +Bearing himself honestly, and escaping his enemies, the cat, the hawk, +and the boy, he lives a long day of happy inoffensive life. Then when +the filmy curtain of the Indian summer falls upon the year again, he +bids us a long good-night. + + + + +IX + +SPRING SHOOTING + + +The Ram makes way for the Bull; March goes out and April comes in with +sunshine and showers, smiles and tears. The sportsman has his gun in +hand again with deadly purpose, as the angler his rod and tackle with +another intention than mere overhauling and putting to rights. The +smiles of April are for them. + +The geese come wedging their way northward; the ducks awaken the silent +marshes with the whistle of their pinions; the snipe come in pairs and +wisps to the thawing bogs--all on their way to breeding grounds and +summer homes. The tears of April are for them. Wherever they stop for a +day's or an hour's rest, and a little food to strengthen and hearten +them for their long journey, the deadly, frightful gun awaits to kill, +maim, or terrify, more merciless than all the ills that nature inflicts +in her unkindest moods. + +Year after year men go on making laws and crying for more, to protect +these fowl in summer, but in spring, when as much as ever they need +protection, the hand of man is ruthlessly against them. + +When you made that splendid shot last night in the latest gloaming that +would show you the sight of your gun, and cut down that ancient goose, +tougher than the leather of your gun-case, and almost as edible, of how +many well-grown young geese of next November did you cheat yourself, or +some one else of the brotherhood? + +When from the puddle, where they were bathing their tired wings, sipping +the nectar of muddy water, and nibbling the budding leaves of water +weeds, you started that pair of ducks yesterday, and were so proud of +tumbling them down right and left, you killed many more than you saw +then; many that you might have seen next fall. + +When the sun was shining down so warm upon the steaming earth that the +robins and bluebirds sang May songs, those were very good shots you +made, killing ten snipe straight and clean, and--they were very bad +shots. For in November the ten might have been four times ten fat and +lusty, lazy fellows, boring the oozy margins of these same pools where +the frogs are croaking and the toads are singing to-day. + +"Well, it's a long time to wait from November till the earth ripens and +browns to autumn again. Life is short and shooting days are few at most. +Let us shoot our goose while we may, though she would lay a golden egg +by and by." + +Farmers do not kill their breeding ewes in March, nor butcher cows that +are to calve in a month; it does not pay. Why should sportsmen be less +provident of the stock they prize so dearly; stock that has so few +care-takers, so many enemies? Certainly, it does not pay in the long +run. + + + + +X + +THE GARTER-SNAKE + + +When the returned crows have become such familiar objects in the forlorn +unclad landscape of early spring that they have worn out their first +welcome, and the earliest songbirds have come to stay in spite of +inhospitable weather that seems for days to set the calendar back a +month, the woods invite you more than the fields. There nature is least +under man's restraint and gives the first signs of her reawakening. In +windless nooks the sun shines warmest between the meshes of the slowly +drifting net of shadows. + +There are patches of moss on gray rocks and tree trunks. Fairy islands +of it, that will not be greener when they are wet with summer showers, +arise among the brown expanse of dead leaves. The gray mist of branches +and undergrowth is enlivened with a tinge of purple. Here and there the +tawny mat beneath is uplifted by the struggling plant life below it or +pierced through by an underthrust of a sprouting seed. There is a +promise of bloom in blushing arbutus buds, a promise even now fulfilled +by the first squirrelcups just out of their furry bracts and already +calling the bees abroad. Flies are buzzing to and fro in busy idleness, +and a cricket stirs the leaves with a sudden spasm of movement. The +first of the seventeen butterflies that shall give boys the freedom of +bare feet goes wavering past like a drifting blossom. + +A cradle knoll invites you to a seat on the soft, warm cushion of dead +leaves and living moss and purple sprigs of wintergreen with their blobs +of scarlet berries, which have grown redder and plumper under every snow +of the winter. This smoothly rounded mound and the hollow scooped beside +it, brimful now of amber, sun-warmed water, mark the ancient place of a +great tree that was dead and buried, and all traces by which its kind +could be identified were mouldered away and obliterated, before you were +born. + +The incessant crackling purr of the wood-frogs is interrupted at your +approach, and they disappear till the wrinkled surface of the oblong +pool grows smooth again and you perceive them sprawled along the bottom +on the leaf paving of their own color. As you cast a casual glance on +your prospective seat, carelessly noting the mingling of many hues, the +brightness of the berries seems most conspicuous, till a moving curved +and recurved gleam of gold on black and a flickering flash of red catch +your eye and startle you with an involuntary revulsion. + +With charmed eyes held by this new object, you grope blindly for a stick +or stone. But, if you find either, forbear to strike. Do not blot out +one token of spring's awakening nor destroy one life that rejoices in +it, even though it be so humble a life as that of a poor garter-snake. +He is so harmless to man, that, were it not for the old, unreasoning +antipathy, our hands would not be raised against him; and, if he were +not a snake, we should call him beautiful in his stripes of black and +gold, and in graceful motion--a motion that charms us in the undulation +of waves, in their flickering reflections of sunlight on rushy margins +and wooded shores, in the winding of a brook through a meadow, in the +flutter of a pennant and the flaunting of a banner, the ripple of +wind-swept meadow and grain field, and the sway of leafy boughs. His +colors are fresh and bright as ever you will see them, though he has but +to-day awakened from a long sleep in continual darkness. + +He is simply enjoying the free air and warm sunshine without a thought +of food for all his months of fasting. Perhaps he has forgotten that +miserable necessity of existence. When at last he remembers that he has +an appetite, you can scarcely imagine that he can have any pleasure in +satisfying it with one huge mouthful of twice or thrice the ordinary +diameter of his gullet. If you chance to witness his slow and painful +gorging of a frog, you hear a cry of distress that might be uttered with +equal cause by victim or devourer. When he has fully entered upon the +business of reawakened life, many a young field-mouse and noxious +insect will go into his maw to his own and your benefit. If there go +also some eggs and callow young of ground-nesting birds, why should you +question his right, you, who defer slaughter out of pure selfishness, +that a little later you may make havoc among the broods of woodcock and +grouse? + +Of all living things, only man disturbs the nicely adjusted balance of +nature. The more civilized he becomes the more mischievous he is. The +better he calls himself, the worse he is. For uncounted centuries the +bison and the Indian shared a continent, but in two hundred years or so +the white man has destroyed the one and spoiled the other. + +Surely there is little harm in this lowly bearer of a name honored in +knighthood, and the motto of the noble order might be the legend written +on his gilded mail, "Evil to him who evil thinks." If this sunny patch +of earth is not wide enough for you to share with him, leave it to him +and choose another for yourself. The world is wide enough for both to +enjoy this season of its promise. + + + + +XI + +THE TOAD + + +During our summer acquaintance with her, when we see her oftenest, a +valued inhabitant of our garden and a welcome twilight visitor at our +threshold, we associate silence with the toad, almost as intimately as +with the proverbially silent clam. In the drouthy or too moist summer +days and evenings, she never awakens our hopes or fears with shrill +prophecies of rain as does her nimbler and more aspiring cousin, the +tree-toad. + +A rustle of the cucumber leaves that embower her cool retreat, the spat +and shuffle of her short, awkward leaps, are the only sounds that then +betoken her presence, and we listen in vain for even a smack of pleasure +or audible expression of self-approval, when, after a nervous, +gratulatory wriggle of her hinder toes, she dips forward and, with a +lightning-like out-flashing of her unerring tongue, she flicks into her +jaws a fly or bug. She only winks contentedly to express complete +satisfaction at her performance and its result. + +Though summer's torrid heat cannot warm her to any voice, springtime and +love make her tuneful, and every one hears the softly trilled, +monotonous song jarring the mild air, but few know who is the singer. +The drumming grouse is not shyer of exhibiting his performance. + +From a sun-warmed pool not fifty yards away a full chorus of the rapidly +vibrant voices arises, and you imagine that the performers are so +absorbed with their music that you may easily draw near and observe +them. But when you come to the edge of the pool you see only a +half-dozen concentric circles of wavelets, widening from central points, +where as many musicians have modestly withdrawn beneath the transparent +curtain. + +Wait, silent and motionless, and they will reappear. A brown head is +thrust above the surface, and presently your last summer's familiar of +the garden and doorstep crawls slowly out upon a barren islet of +cobble-stone, and, assured that no intruder is within the precincts +sacred to the wooing of the toads, she inflates her throat and tunes up +her long, monotonous chant. Ere it ceases, another and another take it +up, and from distant pools you hear it answered, till all the air is +softly shaken as if with the clear chiming of a hundred swift-struck, +tiny bells. They ring in the returning birds, robin, sparrow, finch and +meadow lark, and the first flowers, squirrelcup, arbutus, bloodroot, +adder-tongue and moose-flower. + +When the bobolink has come to his northern domain again and the oriole +flashes through the budding elms and the first columbine droops over the +gray ledges, you may still hear an occasional ringing of the toads, but +a little later the dignified and matronly female, having lost her voice +altogether, has returned to her summer home, while her little mate has +exchanged his trill for a disagreeable and uncanny squawk, perhaps a +challenge to his rivals, who linger about the scenes of their courtship +and make night hideous until midsummer. Then a long silence falls on the +race of toads--a silence which even hibernation scarcely deepens. + + + + +XII + +MAY DAYS + + +The lifeless dun of the close-cropped southward slopes and the tawny +tangles of the swales are kindling to living green with the blaze of the +sun and the moist tinder of the brook's overflow. + +The faithful swallows have returned, though the faithless season delays. +The flicker flashes his golden shafts in the sunlight and gladdens the +ear with his merry cackle. The upland plover wails his greeting to the +tussocked pastures, where day and night rings the shrill chorus of the +hylas and the trill of the toads continually trembles in the soft air. + +The first comers of the birds are already mated and nest-building, robin +and song sparrow each in his chosen place setting the foundations of his +house with mud or threads of dry grass. The crow clutters out his +softest love note. The flicker is mining a fortress in the heart of an +old apple-tree. + +The squirrels wind a swift ruddy chain about a boll in their love chase, +and even now you may surprise the vixen fox watching the first gambols +of her tawny cubs by the sunny border of the woods. + +The gray haze of undergrowth and lofty ramage is turning to a misty +green, and the shadows of opening buds knot the meshed shadows of twigs +on the brown forest floor, which is splashed with white moose-flowers +and buds of bloodroot, like ivory-tipped arrows, each in a green quiver, +and yellow adder-tongues bending above their mottled beds, and rusty +trails of arbutus leaves leading to the secret of their hidden bloom, +which their fragrance half betrays. + +Marsh marigolds lengthen their golden chain, link by link, along the +ditches. The maples are yellow with paler bloom, and the graceful +birches are bent with their light burden of tassels. The dandelion +answers the sun, the violet the sky. Blossom and greenness are +everywhere; even the brown paths of the plough and harrow are greening +with springing grain. + +We listen to the cuckoo's monotonous flute among the white drifts of +orchard bloom and the incessant murmur of bees, the oriole's half +plaintive carol as of departed joys in the elms, and the jubilant song +of the bobolink in the meadows, where he is not an outlaw but a welcome +guest, mingling his glad notes with the merry voices of flower-gathering +children, as by and by he will with the ringing cadence of the scythe +and the vibrant chirr of the mower. Down by the flooded marshes the +scarlet of the water maples and the flash of the starling's wing are +repeated in the broad mirror of the still water. The turtle basks on the +long incline of stranded logs. + +Tally-sticks cast adrift are a symbol that the trapper's warfare against +the muskrats is ended and that the decimated remnant of the tribe is +left in peace to reestablish itself. The spendthrift waste of untimely +shooting is stayed. Wild duck, plover, and snipe have entered upon the +enjoyment of a summer truce that will be unbroken, if the collector is +not abroad at whose hands science ruthlessly demands mating birds and +callow brood. + +Of all sportsmen only the angler, often attended by his winged brother +the kingfisher, is astir, wandering by pleasant waters where the bass +lurks in the tangles of an eddy's writhing currents, or the perch poises +and then glides through the intangible golden meshes that waves and +sunlight knit, or where the trout lies poised beneath the silver domes +of foam bells. + +The loon laughs again on the lake. Again the freed waves toss the +shadows of the shores and the white reflections of white sails, and +flash back the sunlight or the glitter of stars and the beacon's +rekindled gleam. + +Sun and sky, forest, field, and water, bird and blossom, declare the +fullness of spring and the coming of summer. + + + + +XIII + +THE BOBOLINK + + +The woods have changed from the purple of swelling buds to the tender +grayish green of opening leaves, and the sward is green again with new +grass, when this pied troubadour, more faithful to the calendar than +leaf or flower, comes back from his southern home to New England meadows +to charm others than his dusky ladylove with his merry song. He seldom +disappoints us by more than a day in the date of his arrival, and never +fails to receive a kindly welcome, though the fickle weather may be +unkind. + +"The bobolinks have come" is as joyful a proclamation as announces the +return of the bluebird and robin. Here no shotted salute of gun awaits +him, and he is aware that he is in a friendly country. Though he does +not court familiarity, he tolerates approach; and permits you to come +within a dozen yards of the fence stake he has alighted on, and when +you come nearer he goes but to the next, singing the prelude or finale +of his song as he flies. Fewer yards above your head he poises on wing +to sing it from beginning to end, you know not whether with intent to +taunt you or to charm you, but he only accomplishes the latter. He seems +to know that he does not harm us and that he brings nothing that we +should not lose by killing him. Yet how cunningly he and his mate hide +their nest in the even expanse of grass. That is a treasure he will not +trust us with the secret of, and, though there may be a dozen in the +meadow, we rarely find one. + +Our New England fathers had as kindly a feeling for this blithe comer to +their stumpy meadows, though they gave him the uncouth and malodorous +name of skunk blackbird. He sang as sweetly to them as he does to us, +and he too was a discoverer and a pioneer, finding and occupying meadows +full of sunshine where had only been the continual shade of the forest, +where no bobolink had ever been before. Now he has miles of grassy +sunlit fields wherein he sings violet and buttercup, daisy and clover +into bloom and strawberries into ripeness, and his glad song mingles +with the happy voices of the children who come to gather them, and also +chimes with the rarer music of the whetted scythe. + +Then, long before the summer is past, he assumes the sober dress of his +mate and her monosyllabic note, and fades so gradually out of our sight +and hearing that he departs without our being aware of it. Summer still +burns with unabated fervor, when we suddenly realize that there are no +bobolinks. Nor are there any under the less changeful skies whither our +changed bird has flown to be a reed-bird or rice-bird and to find +mankind his enemies. He is no longer a singer but a gourmand and valued +only as a choice morsel, doubtless delicious, yet one that should choke +a New Englander. + + + + +XIV + +THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER + + +The migrant woodpecker whose cheery cackle assures us of the certainty +of spring is rich in names that well befit him. If you take to +high-sounding titles for your humble friends, you will accept _Colaptes +auratus_, as he flies above you, borrowing more gold of the sunbeams +that shine through his yellow pinions, or will be content to call him +simply golden-winged. When he flashes his wings in straight-away flight +before you, or sounds his sharp, single note of alarm, or peers down +from the door of his lofty tower, or hangs on its wooden wall, or +clinging to a fence stake displays his mottled back, you recognize the +fitness of each name the country folk have given him--flicker, +yellow-hammer, yarrup, highhole or highholder, and what Thoreau often +termed him, partridge-woodpecker. It is a wonder that the joyous cackle +wherewith he announces his return from his winter sojourn in the South +has not gained him another, and that love note, so like the slow +whetting of a knife upon a steel, still another. Perhaps it is because +they are especially sounds of spring and seldom if ever heard after the +season of joyful arrival and love-making. + +During the same season you frequently hear him attuning his harsh sharp +voice to its softest note of endearment, a long-drawn and modulated +variation of his cackle. When household cares begin, the lord and lady +of the wooden tower, like too many greater and wiser two-legged folk, +give over singing and soft words. At home and abroad their deportment is +sober and business-like, and except for an occasional alarm-cry they are +mostly silent. + +As you wander through the orchard of an early midsummer day and pause +beside an old apple-tree to listen to the cuckoo's flute or admire the +airy fabric of the wood pewee's nest, a larger scale of lichen on the +lichened boughs, you hear a smothered vibrant murmur close beside you, +as if the heart of the old tree was pulsating with audible life. It is +startlingly suggestive of disturbed yellow-jackets, but when you move +around the trunk in cautious reconnoissance, you discover the round +portal of a flicker's home, and the sound resolves itself into +harmlessness. It is only the callow young clamoring for food, or +complaining of their circumscribed quarters. + +Not many days hence they will be out in the wide world of air and +sunshine of which they now know as little as when they chipped the +shell. Lusty fellows they will be then, with much of their parents' +beauty already displayed in their bright new plumage and capable of an +outcry that will hold a bird-eating cat at bay. A little later they will +be, as their parents are, helpful allies against the borers, the +insidious enemies of our apple-tree. It is a warfare which the +groundling habits of the golden-wings make them more ready to engage in +than any other of the woodpecker clans. + +In sultry August weather, when the shrill cry of the cicada pierces the +hot air like a hotter needle of sound, and the dry husky beat of his +wings emphasizes the apparent fact of drouth as you walk on the +desiccated slippery herbage of meadow and pasture, the golden-wings with +all their grown-up family fly up before you from their feast on the ant +hills and go flashing and flickering away like rockets shot aslant, into +the green tent of the wild cherry trees to their dessert of juicy black +fruit. + +Early in the dreariness of November, they have vanished with all the +horde of summer residents who have made the season of leaf, flower, and +fruit the brighter by their presence. The desolate leafless months go +by, till at last comes the promise of spring, and you are aware of a +half unconscious listening for the golden-wings. Presently the loud, +long, joyous iteration breaks upon your ear, and you hail the +fulfillment of the promise and the blithe new comer, a golden link in +the lengthening chain that is encircling the earth. + + + + +XV + +JUNE DAYS + + +June brings skies of purest blue, flecked with drifts of silver, fields +and woods in the flush of fresh verdure, with the streams winding among +them in crystal loops that invite the angler with promise of more than +fish, something that tackle cannot lure nor creel hold. + +The air is full of the perfume of locust and grape bloom, the spicy odor +of pine and fir, and of pleasant voices--the subdued murmur of the +brook's changing babble, the hum of bees, the stir of the breeze, the +songs of birds. Out of the shady aisles of the woods come the flute note +of the hermit thrush, the silvery chime of the tawny thrush; and from +the forest border, where the lithe birches swing their shadows to and +fro along the bounds of wood and field, comes that voice of June, the +cuckoo's gurgling note of preparation, and then the soft, monotonous +call that centuries ago gave him a name. + +General Kukushna the exiles in Siberia entitle him; and when they hear +his voice, every one who can break bounds is irresistibly drawn to +follow him, and live for a brief season a free life in the greenwood. As +to many weary souls and hampered bodies there, so to many such here +comes the voice of the little commander, now persuasive, now imperative, +not to men and women in exile or wearing the convict's garb, but +suffering some sort of servitude laid upon them or self-imposed. Toiling +for bread, for wealth, for fame, they are alike in bondage--chained to +the shop, the farm, the desk, the office. + +Some who hear, obey, and revel in the brief but delightful freedom of +June days spent in the perfumed breath of full-leafed woods, by cold +water-brooks and rippled lakes. Others listen with hungry hearts to the +summons, but cannot loose their fetters, and can only answer with a +sigh, "It is not for me," or "Not yet," and toil on, still hoping for +future days of freedom. + +But saddest of all is the case of such as hear not, or, hearing, heed +not the voice of the Kukushna, the voices of the birds, the murmurous +droning of bees amid the blossoms, the sweet prattle of running waters +and dancing waves. Though these come to them from all about, and all +about them are unfolded the manifold beauties of this joyous month, no +sign is made to them. Their dull ears hear not the voices of nature, +neither do their dim eyes see the wondrous miracle of spring which has +been wrought all about them. Like the man with the muck-rake, they toil +on, intent only upon the filth and litter at their feet. Sad indeed must +it be to have a soul so poor that it responds to no caress of nature, +sadder than any imposition of servitude or exile which yet hinders not +one's soul from arising with intense longing for the wild world of woods +and waters when Kukushna sounds his soft trumpet call. + + + + +XVI + +THE BULLFROG + + +The flooded expanse of the marshes has shrunken perceptibly along its +shoreward boundaries, leaving a mat of dead weeds, bits of driftwood, +and a water-worn selvage of bare earth to mark its widest limits. The +green tips of the rushes are thrust above the amber shallows, whereon +flotillas of water-shield lie anchored in the sun, while steel-blue +devil's-needles sew the warm air with intangible threads of zigzag +flight. + +The meshed shadows of the water-maples are full of the reflections of +the green and silver of young leaves. The naked tangle of button-bushes +has become a green island, populous with garrulous colonies of redwings. +The great flocks of wild ducks that came to the reopened waters have had +their holiday rest, and journeyed onward to summer homes and cares in +the further north. The few that remain are in scattered pairs and +already in the silence and seclusion of nesting. You rarely see the +voyaging muskrat or hear his plaintive love calls. + +Your ear has long been accustomed to the watery clangor of the bittern, +when a new yet familiar sound strikes it, the thin, vibrant bass of the +first bullfrog's note. It may be lacking in musical quality, but it is +attuned to its surroundings, and you are glad that the green-coated +player has at last recovered his long-submerged banjo, and is twanging +its water-soaked strings in prelude to the summer concert. He is a +little out of practice, and his instrument is slightly out of tune, but +a few days' use will restore both touch and resonance, when he and his +hundred brethren shall awaken the marsh-haunting echoes and the sleeping +birds with a grand twilight recital. It will reach your ears a mile +away, and draw you back to the happy days of boyhood, when you listened +for the bullfrogs to tell that fish would bite, and it was time for boys +to go a-fishing. + +In the first days of his return to the upper world of water, this old +acquaintance may be shy, and neither permit nor offer any familiarity. +The fixed placidity of his countenance is not disturbed by your +approach, but if you overstep by one pace what he considers the proper +limit, down goes his head under cover of the flood. Marking his jerky +course with an underwake and a shiver of the rushes, he reappears, to +calmly observe you from a safer distance. + +Custom outwears his diffidence, and the fervid sun warms him to more +genial moods, when he will suffer you to come quietly quite close to him +and tickle his sides with a bullrush, till in an ecstasy of pleasure he +loses all caution, and bears with supreme contentment the titillation of +your finger tips. His flabby sides swell with fullness of enjoyment, his +blinking eyes grow dreamy and the corners of his blandly expressionless +mouth almost curve upward with an elusive smile. Not till your fingers +gently close upon him does he become aware of the indiscretion into +which he has lapsed, and with a frantic struggle he tears himself away +from your grasp and goes plunging headlong into his nether element, +bellowing out his shame and astonishment. + +Another day as you troll along the channel an oar's length from the +weedy borders, you see him afloat on his lily-pad raft, heeding you no +more than does the golden-hearted blossom whose orange odor drifts about +him, nor is he disturbed by splash of oar nor dip of paddle, nor even +when his bark and her perfume-freighted consort are tossed on your +undulating wake. + +As summer wanes you see and hear him less frequently, but he is still +your comrade of the marshes, occasionally announcing his presence with a +resonant twang and a jerky splash among the sedges. + +The pickerel weeds have struck their blue banners to the conquering +frost, and the marshes are sere, and silent, and desolate. When they are +warmed again with the new life of spring, we shall listen for the +jubilant chorus of our old acquaintance, the bullfrog. + + + + +XVII + +THE ANGLER + + +I + +Angling is set down by the master of the craft, whom all revere but none +now follow, as the Contemplative Man's Recreation; but is the angler, +while angling, a contemplative man? + +That beloved and worthy brother whose worm-baited hook dangles in quiet +waters, placid as his mind--till some wayfaring perch, or bream, or +bullhead shall by chance come upon it, he, meanwhile, with rod set in +the bank, taking his ease upon the fresh June sward, not touching his +tackle nor regarding it but with the corner of an eye--he may +contemplate and dream day dreams. He may watch the clouds drifting +across the blue, the green branches waving between him and them, +consider the lilies of the field, note the songs of the catbird in the +willow thicket, watch the poise and plunge of the kingfisher, and so +spend all the day with nature and his own lazy thoughts. That is what he +came for. Angling with him is only a pretense, an excuse to pay a visit +to the great mother whom he so dearly loves; and if he carries home not +so much as a scale, he is happy and content. + +But how is it with him who comes stealing along with such light tread +that it scarcely crushes the violets or shakes the dewdrops from the +ferns, and casts his flies with such precise skill upon the very +handsbreadth of water that gives most promise to his experienced eye; or +drops his minnow with such care into the eddying pool, where he feels a +bass must lie awaiting it. Eye and ear and every organ of sense are +intent upon the sport for which he came. He sees only the images of the +clouds, no branch but that which impedes him or offers cover to his +stealthy approach. His ear is more alert for the splash of fishes than +for bird songs. With his senses go all his thoughts, and float not away +in day dreams. + +Howsoever much he loves her, for the time while he hath rod in hand +Mother Nature is a fish-woman, and he prays that she may deal generously +with him. Though he be a parson, his thoughts tend not to religion; +though a savant, not to science; though a statesman, not to politics; +though an artist, to no art save the art of angling. So far removed from +all these while he casts his fly or guides his minnow, how much further +is his soul from all but the matter in hand when a fish has taken the +one or the other, and all his skill is taxed to the utmost to bring his +victim to creel. Heresy and paganism may prevail, the light of science +be quenched, the country go to the dogs, pictures go unpainted, and +statues unmoulded till he has saved this fish. + +When the day is spent, the day's sport done, and he wends his way +homeward with a goodly score, satisfied with himself and all the world +besides, he may ponder on many things apart from that which has this day +taken him by green fields and pleasant waters. Now he may brood his +thoughts, and dream dreams; but while he angles, the complete angler is +not a contemplative man. + + +II + +The rivers roaring between their brimming banks; the brooks babbling +over their pebbled beds and cross-stream logs that will be bridges for +the fox in midsummer; the freed waters of lakes and ponds, dashing in +slow beat of waves or quicker pulse of ripples against their shores, in +voices monotonous but never tiresome, now call all who delight in the +craft to go a-fishing. + +With the sap in the aged tree, the blood quickens in the oldest angler's +veins, whether he be of the anointed who fish by the book, or of the +common sort who practice the methods of the forgotten inventors of the +art. + +The first are busy with rods and reels that are a pleasure to the eye +and touch, with fly-books whose leaves are as bright with color as +painted pictures, the others rummaging corner-cupboards for mislaid +lines, searching the sheds for favorite poles of ash, ironwood, +tamarack, or cedar, or perhaps the woods for one just budding on its +sapling stump. + +Each enjoys as much as the other the pleasant labor of preparation and +the anticipation of sport, though perhaps that of the scientific angler +is more aesthetic enjoyment, as his outfitting is the daintier and more +artistic. But to each comes the recollection of past happy days spent on +lake, river and brook, memories touched with a sense of loss, of days +that can never come again, of comrades gone forever from earthly +companionship. + +And who shall say that the plebeian angler does not enter upon the +untangling of his cotton lines, the trimming of his new cut pole, and +the digging of his worms, with as much zest as his brother of the finer +cast on the testing and mending of lancewood or split bamboo rod, the +overhauling of silken lines and leaders, and the assorting of flies. + + +III + +Considering the younger generation of anglers, one finds more enthusiasm +among those who talk learnedly of all the niceties of the art. They +scorn all fish not acknowledged as game. They plan more, though they may +accomplish less than the common sort to whom all of fishing tackle is a +pole, a line, and a hook. To them fishing is but fishing, and fish are +only fish, and they will go for one or the other when the signs are +right and the day propitious. + +Descending to the least and latest generation of anglers, we see the +conditions reversed. The youth born to rod and reel and fly is not so +enthusiastic in his devotion to the sport as the boy whose birthright is +only the pole that craftsman never fashioned, the kinky lines of the +country store, and hooks known by no maker's name. For it is not in the +nature of a boy to hold to any nicety in sport of any sort, and this +one, being herein unrestrained, enters upon the art called gentle with +all the wild freedom of a young savage or a half-grown mink. + +For him it is almost as good as going fishing, to unearth and gather in +an old teapot the worms, every one of which is to his sanguine vision +the promise of a fish. What completeness of happiness for him to be +allowed to go fishing with his father or grandfather or the acknowledged +great fisherman of the neighborhood, a good-for-nothing ne'er-do-well, +but wise in all the ways of fish and their taking and very careful of +and kind to little boys. + +The high-hole never cackled so merrily, nor meadow lark sang sweeter, +nor grass sprang greener nor water shone brighter than to the boy when +he goes a-fishing thus accompanied. To him is welcome everything that +comes from the waters, be it trout, bass, perch, bullhead, or sunfish, +and he hath pride even in the abominable but toothsome eel and the +uneatable bowfin. + +Well, remembering that we were once boys and are yet anglers, though we +seldom go a-fishing, we wish, in the days of the new springtide, to all +the craft, whether they be of high or low degree, bent and cramped with +the winter of age or flushed with the spring of life, pleasant and +peaceful days of honest sport by all watersides, and full creels and +strings and wythes. + + +IV + +In the soft evenings of April when the air is full of the undefinable +odor of the warming earth and of the incessant rejoicing of innumerable +members of the many families of batrachians, one may see silently moving +lights prowling along the low shores of shallow waters, now hidden by +trunks of great trees that are knee-deep in the still water, now +emerging, illuminating bolls and branches and flashing their glimmering +glades far across the ripples of wake and light breeze. + +If one were near enough he could see the boat of the spearers, its bow +and the intent figure of the spearman aglow in the light of the jack +which flares a backward flame with its steady progress, and drops a slow +shower of sparks, while the stern and the paddler sitting therein are +dimly apparent in the verge of the gloom. + +These may be honest men engaged in no illegal affair; they exercise +skill of a certain sort; they are enthusiastic in the pursuit of their +pastime, which is as fair as jacking deer, a practice upheld by many in +high places; yet these who by somewhat similar methods take fish for +sport and food are not accounted honest fishermen, but arrant poachers. +If jacking deer is right, how can jacking fish be wrong? or if jacking +fish be wrong, how can jacking deer be right? Verily, there are nice +distinctions in the ethics of sport. + + + + +XVIII + +FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS + + "Happy the man whose only care + A few paternal acres bound, + Content to breathe his native air + On his own ground." + + +Happier still is such a one who has a love for the rod and gun, and with +them finds now and then a day's freedom from all cares by the side of +the stream that borders his own acres and in the woods that crest his +knolls or shade his swamp. + +As a rule none of our people take so few days of recreation as the +farmer. Excepting Sundays, two or three days at the county fair, and +perhaps as many more spent in the crowd and discomfort of a cheap +railroad excursion, are all that are given by the ordinary farmer to +anything but the affairs of the farm. It is true that his outdoor life +makes it less necessary for him than for the man whose office or shop +work keeps him mostly indoors, to devote a month or a fortnight of each +year to entire rest from labor. Indeed, he can hardly do this except in +winter, when his own fireside is oftener the pleasantest place for rest. +But he would be the better for more days of healthful pleasure, and many +such he might have if he would so use those odd ones which fall within +his year, when crops are sown and planted or harvested. A day in the +woods or by the stream is better for body and mind than one spent in +idle gossip at the village store, and nine times out of ten better for +the pocket, though one come home without fin or feather to show for his +day's outing. One who keeps his eyes and ears on duty while abroad in +the field can hardly fail to see and hear something new, or, at least, +more interesting and profitable than ordinary gossip, and the wear and +tear of tackle and a few charges of ammunition wasted will cost less +than the treats which are pretty apt to be part of a day's loafing. + +Barring the dearth of the objects of his pursuit, the farmer who goes +a-fishing and a-hunting should not be unsuccessful if he has fair skill +with the rod and gun. For he who knows most of the habits of fish and +game will succeed best in their capture, and no man, except the +naturalist and the professional fisherman and hunter, has a better +chance to gain this knowledge than the farmer, whose life brings him +into everyday companionship with nature. His fields and woods are the +homes and haunts of the birds and beasts of venery, from the beginning +of the year to its end, and in his streams many of the fishes pass their +lives. By his woodside the quail builds her nest, and when the foam of +blossom has dried away on the buckwheat field she leads her young there +to feed on the brown kernel stranded on the coral stems. If he chance to +follow his wood road in early June, the ruffed grouse limps and flutters +along it before him, while her callow chicks vanish as if by a +conjurer's trick from beneath his very footfall. A month later, grown to +the size of robins, they will scatter on the wing from his path with a +vigor that foretells the bold whir and the swiftness of their flight in +their grown-up days, when they will stir the steadiest nerve, whether +they hurtle from an October-painted thicket or from the blue shadows of +untracked snow. No one is likelier to see and hear the strange wooing of +the woodcock in the soft spring evenings, and to the farmer's ear first +comes that assurance of spring, the wail of the Bartram's sandpiper +returning from the South to breed in meadow and pasture, and then in +hollow trees that overhang the river the wood ducks begin to spoil their +holiday attire in the work and care of housekeeping. The fox burrows and +breeds in the farmer's woods. The raccoon's den is there in ledge or +hollow tree. The hare makes her form in the shadow of his evergreens, +where she dons her dress of tawny or white to match the brown floor of +the woods or its soft covering of snow. The bass comes to his river in +May to spawn, the pike-perch for food, and the perch lives there, as +perhaps the trout does in his brook. + +All these are his tenants, or his summer boarders, and if he knows not +something of their lives, and when and where to find them at home or in +their favorite resorts, he is a careless landlord. His life will be the +pleasanter for the interest he takes in theirs, and the skill he +acquires in bringing them to bag and creel. + + + + +XIX + +TO A TRESPASS SIGN + + +Scene, _A Wood. An old man with a fishing-rod speaks_:-- + +What strange object is this which I behold, incongruous in its staring +whiteness of fresh paint and black lettering, its straightness of lines +and abrupt irregularity amid the soft tints and graceful curves of this +sylvan scene? As I live, a trespass sign! + +Thou inanimate yet most impertinent thing, dumb yet commanding me with +most imperative words to depart hence, how dost thou dare forbid my +entrance upon what has so long been my own, even as it is the birds' and +beasts' and fishes', not by lease or title deed, but of natural right? +Hither from time immemorial have they come at will and so departed at no +man's behest, as have I since the happy days when a barefoot boy I cast +my worm-baited hook among the crystal foam bells, or bearing the heavy +burden of my grandsire's rusty flint-lock, I stalked the wily grouse in +the diurnal twilight of these thickets. + +Here was I thrilled by the capture of my first trout; here exulted over +the downfall of my first woodcock; here, grown to man's estate, I +learned to cast the fly; here beheld my first dog draw on his game, and +here, year after year, till my locks have grown gray, have I come, sharp +set with months of longing, to live again for a little while the +carefree days of youth. + +Never have I been bidden to depart but by storm or nightfall or satiety, +until now thou confrontest me with thy impudent mandate, thou, thou +contemptible, but yet not to be despised nor unheeded parallelogram of +painted deal, with thy legal phrases and impending penalties; thou, the +silent yet terribly impressive representative of men whose purses are +longer than mine! + +What is their right to this stream, these woods, compared with mine? +Theirs is only gained by purchase, confirmed by scrawled parchment, +signed and sealed; mine a birthright, as always I hoped it might be of +my sons and my sons' sons. What to the usurpers of our rights are these +woods and waters but a place for the killing of game and fish? They do +not love, as a man the roof-tree where-under he was born, these arches +and low aisles of the woods; they do not know as I do every silver loop +of the brook, every tree whose quivering reflection throbs across its +eddies; its voice is only babble to their ears, the song of the pines +tells them no story of bygone years. + +Of all comers here, I who expected most kindly welcome am most +inhospitably treated. All my old familiars, the birds, the beasts, and +the fishes, may fly over thee, walk beneath thee, swim around thee, but +to me thou art a wall that I may not pass. + +I despise thee and spit upon thee, thou most impudent intruder, thou +insolent sentinel, thou odious monument of selfishness, but I dare not +lay hands upon thee and cast thee down and trample thee in the dust of +the earth as thou shouldst of right be entreated. To rid myself of thy +hateful sight, I can only turn my back upon thee and depart with sorrow +and anger in my heart. + +Mayst thou keep nothing but disappointment for the greedy wretches who +set thee here. + + + + +XX + +A GENTLE SPORTSMAN + + +All the skill of woodcraft that goes to the making of the successful +hunter with the gun, must be possessed by him who hunts his game with +the camera. His must be the stealthy, panther-like tread that breaks no +twig nor rustles the fallen leaves. His the eye that reads at a glance +the signs that to the ordinary sight are a blank or at most are an +untranslatable enigma. His a patience that counts time as nothing when +measured with the object sought. When by the use and practice of these, +he has drawn within a closer range of his timid game than his brother of +the gun need attain, he pulls trigger of a weapon that destroys not, but +preserves its unharmed quarry in the very counterfeit of life and +motion. The wild world is not made the poorer by one life for his shot, +nor nature's peace disturbed, nor her nicely adjusted balance jarred. + +He bears home his game, wearing still its pretty ways of life in the +midst of its loved surroundings, the swaying hemlock bough where the +grouse perched, the bending ferns about the deer's couch, the dew-beaded +sedges where the woodcock skulks in the shadows of the alders, the +lichened trunks and dim vistas of primeval woods, the sheen of voiceless +waterfalls, the flash of sunlit waves that never break. + +His trophies the moth may not assail. His game touches a finer sense +than the palate possesses, satisfies a nobler appetite than the +stomach's craving, and furnishes forth a feast that, ever spread, ever +invites, and never palls upon the taste. + +Moreover, this gentlest of sportsmen is hampered by no restrictions of +close time, nor confronted by penalties of trespass. All seasons are +open for his bloodless forays, all woods and waters free to his harmless +weapon. + +Neither is he trammeled by any nice distinctions as to what may or may +not be considered game. Everything counts in his score. The eagle on +his craggy perch, the high-hole on his hollow tree, are as legitimate +game for him as the deer and grouse. All things beautiful and wild and +picturesque are his, yet he kills them not, but makes them a living and +enduring joy, to himself and all who behold them. + + + + +XXI + +JULY DAYS + + +The woods are dense with full-grown leafage. Of all the trees, only the +basswood has delayed its blossoming, to crown the height of summer and +fill the sun-steeped air with a perfume that calls all the wild bees +from hollow tree and scant woodside gleaning to a wealth of honey +gathering, and all the hive-dwellers from their board-built homes to a +finer and sweeter pillage than is offered by the odorous white sea of +buckwheat. Half the flowers of wood and fields are out of bloom. +Herdsgrass, clover and daisy are falling before the mower. The early +grain fields have already caught the color of the sun, and the tasseling +corn rustles its broad leaves above the rich loam that the woodcock +delights to bore. + +The dwindling streams have lost their boisterous clamor of springtide +and wimple with subdued voices over beds too shallow to hide a minnow +or his poised shadow on the sunlit shallows. The sharp eye of the angler +probes the green depths of the slowly swirling pools, and discovers the +secrets of the big fish which congregate therein. + +The river has marked the stages of its decreasing volume with many lines +along its steep banks. It discloses the muskrat's doorway, to which he +once dived so gracefully, but now must clumsily climb to. Rafts of +driftwood bridge the shallow current sunk so low that the lithe willows +bend in vain to kiss its warm bosom. This only the swaying trails of +water-weeds and rustling sedges toy with now; and swift-winged swallows +coyly touch. There is not depth to hide the scurrying schools of +minnows, the half of whom fly into the air in a curving burst of silver +shower before the rush of a pickerel, whose green and mottled sides +gleam like a swift-shot arrow in the downright sunbeams. + +The sandpiper tilts along the shelving shore. Out of an embowered harbor +a wood duck convoys her fleet of ducklings, and on the ripples of +their wake the anchored argosies of the water lilies toss and cast +adrift their cargoes of perfume. Above them the green heron perches on +an overhanging branch, uncouth but alert, whether sentinel or scout, +flapping his awkward way along the ambient bends and reaches. With slow +wing-beats he signals the coming of some more lazily moving boat, that +drifts at the languid will of the current or indolent pull of oars that +grate on the golden-meshed sand and pebbles. + +Lazily, unexpectantly, the angler casts his line, to be only a +convenient perch for the dragonflies; for the fish, save the affrighted +minnows and the hungry pickerel, are as lazy as he. To-day he may enjoy +to the full the contemplative man's recreation, nor have his +contemplations disturbed by any finny folk of the under-water world, +while dreamily he floats in sunshine and dappled shadow, so at one with +the placid waters and quiet shores that wood duck, sandpiper, and heron +scarcely note his unobtrusive presence. + +No such easy and meditative pastime attends his brother of the gun +who, sweating under the burden of lightest apparel and equipment, beats +the swampy covers where beneath the sprawling alders and arching fronds +of fern the woodcock hides. Not a breath stirs the murky atmosphere of +these depths of shade, hotter than sunshine; not a branch nor leaf moves +but with his struggling passage, or marking with a wake of waving +undergrowth the course of his unseen dog. + +Except this rustling of branches, sedges and ferns, the thin, continuous +piping of the swarming mosquitoes, the busy tapping and occasional harsh +call of a woodpecker, scarcely a sound invades the hot silence, till the +wake of the hidden dog ceases suddenly and the waving brakes sway with +quickening vibrations into stillness behind him. Then, his master draws +cautiously near, with gun at a ready and an unheeded mosquito drilling +his nose, the fern leaves burst apart with a sudden shiver, and a +woodcock, uttering that shrill unexplained twitter, upsprings in a halo +of rapid wing-beats and flashes out of sight among leaves and branches. +As quick, the heelplate strikes the alert gunner's shoulder, and, as if +in response to the shock, the short unechoed report jars the silence of +the woods. As if out of the cloud of sulphurous smoke, a shower of +leaves flutter down, with a quicker patter of dry twigs and shards of +bark, and among all these a brown clod drops lifeless and inert to +mother earth. + +A woodcock is a woodcock, though but three-quarters grown; and the shot +one that only a quick eye and ready hand may accomplish; but would not +the achievement have been more worthy, the prize richer, the sport +keener in the gaudy leafage and bracing air of October, rather than in +this sweltering heat, befogged with clouds of pestering insects, when +every step is a toil, every moment a torture? Yet men deem it sport and +glory if they do not delight in its performance. The anxious note and +behavior of mother song-birds, whose poor little hearts are in as great +a flutter as their wings concerning their half-grown broods, hatched +coincidently with the woodcock, is proof enough to those who would heed +it, that this is not a proper season for shooting. But in some northerly +parts of our wide country it is woodcock now or never, for the birds +bred still further northward are rarely tempted by the cosiest copse or +half-sunned hillside of open woods to linger for more than a day or two, +as they fare southward, called to warmer days of rest and frostless +moonlit nights of feeding under kindlier skies. + +While the nighthawk's monotonous cry and intermittent boom and the +indistinct voice of the whippoorwill ring out in the late twilight of +the July evenings, the alarmed, half-guttural chuckle of the grass +plover is heard, so early migrating in light marching order, thin in +flesh but strong of wing, a poor prize for the gunner whose ardor +outruns his humanity and better judgment. Lean or fat, a plover is a +plover, but would that he might tarry with us till the plump +grasshoppers of August and September had clothed his breast and ribs +with fatness. + +Well, let him go, if so soon he will. So let the woodcock go, to offer +his best to more fortunate sportsmen. What does it profit us to kill +merely for the sake of killing, and have to show therefor but a beggarly +account of bones and feathers? Are there not grouse and quail and +woodcock waiting for us, and while we wait for them can we not content +ourselves with indolent angling by shaded streams in these melting days +of July rather than contribute the blaze and smoke of gunpowder to the +heat and murkiness of midsummer? If we must shed blood let us tap the +cool veins of the fishes, not the hot arteries of brooding mother birds +and their fledgelings. + + + + +XXII + +CAMPING OUT + + +"Camping out" is becoming merely a name for moving out of one's +permanent habitation and dwelling for a few weeks in a well-built lodge, +smaller than one's home, but as comfortable and almost as convenient; +with tables, chairs and crockery, carpets and curtains, beds with sheets +and blankets on real bedsteads, a stove and its full outfit of cooking +utensils, wherefrom meals are served in the regular ways of +civilization. Living in nearly the same fashion of his ordinary life, +except that he wears a flannel shirt and a slouch hat, and fishes a +little and loafs more than is his ordinary custom, our "camper" imagines +that he is getting quite close to the primitive ways of hunters and +trappers; that he is living their life with nothing lacking but the +rough edges, which he has ingeniously smoothed away. He is mistaken. In +ridding himself of some of its discomforts, he has lost a great deal of +the best of real camp life; the spice of small adventure, and the woodsy +flavor that its half-hardships and makeshift appliances give it. If one +sleeps a little cold under his one blanket on his bed of evergreen +twigs, though he does not take cold, he realizes in some degree the +discomfort of Boone's bivouac when he cuddled beside his hounds to keep +from freezing--and feels slightly heroic. His slumbers are seasoned with +dreams of the wild woods, as the balsamic perfume of his couch steals +into his nostrils; his companions' snores invade his drowsy senses as +the growl of bears, and the thunderous whir of grouse bursting out of +untrodden thickets. When he awakes in the gray of early morning he finds +that the few hours of sleep have wrought a miracle of rest, and he feels +himself nearer to nature when he washes his face in the brook, than when +he rinses off his sleepiness in bowl or basin. The water of the spring +is colder and has a finer flavor when he drinks it from a birch bark +cup of his own making. Tea made in a frying-pan has an aroma never known +to such poor mortals as brew their tea in a teapot, and no mill ever +ground such coffee as that which is tied up in a rag and pounded with a +stone or hatchet-head. A sharpened stick for a fork gives a zest to the +bit of pork "frizzled" on as rude a spit and plattered on a clean chip +or a sheet of bark, and no fish was ever more toothsome than when +broiled on a gridiron improvised of green wands or roasted Indian +fashion in a cleft stick. + +What can make amends for the loss of the camp-fire, with innumerable +pictures glowing and shifting in its heart, and conjuring strange shapes +out of the surrounding gloom, and suggesting unseen mysteries that the +circle of darkness holds behind its rim? How are the wells of +conversation to be thawed out by a black stove, so that tales of +hunters' and fishers' craft and adventure shall flow till the measure of +man's belief is overrun? How is the congenial spark of true +companionship to be kindled when people brood around a stove and light +their pipes with matches, and not with coals snatched out of the +camp-fire's edge, or with twigs that burn briefly with baffling flame? + +But it will not be long before it will be impossible to get a taste of +real camping without taking long and expensive journeys, for every +available rod of lake shore and river bank is being taken up and made +populous with so-called camps, and the comfortable freedom and seclusion +of a real camp are made impossible there. One desiring that might better +pitch his tent in the back woodlot of a farm than in any such popular +resort. This misnamed camping out has become a fashion which seems +likely to last till the shores are as thronged as the towns, and the +woods are spoiled for the real campers, whom it is possible to imagine +seeking in the summers of the future a seclusion in the cities that the +forests and streams no longer can give them. + +Yet, let it be understood that make-believe camping is better than no +camping. It cannot but bring people into more intimate relations with +nature than they would be if they stayed at home, and so to better +acquaintance with our common mother, who deals so impartially with all +her children. + + + + +XXIII + +THE CAMP-FIRE + + +If "the open fire furnishes the room," the camp-fire does more for the +camp. It is its life--a life that throbs out in every flare and flicker +to enliven the surroundings, whether they be the trees of the forest, +the expanse of prairie, shadowed only by clouds and night, or the barren +stretch of sandy shore. Out of the encompassing gloom of all these, the +camp-fire materializes figures as real to the eye as flesh and blood. It +peoples the verge of darkness with grotesque forms, that leap and crouch +and sway with the rise and fall and bending of the flame to the wind, +and that beckon the fancy out to grope in the mystery of night. + +Then imagination soars with the updrift of smoke and the climbing galaxy +of fading sparks, to where the steadfast stars shine out of the +unvisited realm that only imagination can explore. + +The camp-fire gives an expression to the human face that it bears in no +other light, a vague intentness, an absorption in nothing tangible; and +yet not a far-away look, for it is focused on the flame that now licks a +fresh morsel of wood, now laps the empty air; or it is fixed on the +shifting glow of embers, whose blushes flush or fade under their ashen +veil. It is not the gaze of one who looks past everything at nothing, or +at the stars or the mountains or the far-away sea-horizon; but it is +centred on and revealed only by the camp-fire. You wonder what the gazer +beholds--the past, the future, or something that is neither; and the +uncertain answer you can only get by your own questioning of the +flickering blaze. + + * * * * * + +As the outers gather around this cheerful centre their lips exhale +stories of adventure by field and flood, as naturally as the burning +fuel does smoke and sparks, and in that engendering warmth, no fish +caught or lost, no buck killed or missed, suffers shrinkage in size or +weight, no peril is lessened, no tale shorn of minutest detail. All +these belong to the camp-fire, whether it is built in conformity to +scientific rules or piled clumsily by unskilled hands. What satisfaction +there is in the partnership of building this altar of the camp, for +though a master of woodcraft superintends, all may take a hand in its +erection; the youngest and the weakest may contribute a stick that will +brighten the blaze. + + * * * * * + +What hospitality the glow of the camp-fire proclaims in inviting always +one more to the elastic circle of light and warmth, that if always +complete, yet expands to receive another guest. A pillar of cloud by +day, of fire by night, it is a beacon that guides the wanderer to +shelter and comfort. + + * * * * * + +The Indian weed has never such perfect flavor as when, contending with +heat and smoke, one lights his pipe with a coal or an elusive flame, +snatched from the embers of the camp-fire, and by no other fireside does +the nicotian vapor so soothe the perturbed senses, bring such lazy +contentment, nor conjure such pleasant fancies out of the border of +dreamland. + + * * * * * + +There is no cooking comparable with that which the camp-fire affords. To +whatever is boiled, stewed, roasted, broiled or baked over its blaze, in +the glow of its embers or in its ashes, it imparts a distinctive woodsy +flavor that it distills out of itself or draws from the spiced air that +fans it; and the aroma of every dish invites an appetite that is never +disappointed if the supply be large enough. + + * * * * * + +It cannot be denied that the camp stove gives forth warmth and, with +more comfort to the cook, serves to cook food of such tame flavor as one +may get at home. But though the serviceable little imp roar till its +black cheeks glow red as winter berries, it cannot make shanty or tent a +camp in reality or impart to an outing its true flavor. This can only be +given by the generous camp-fire, whose flames and embers no narrow walls +inclose, whose hearth is on every side, whose chimney is the wide air. + + + + +XXIV + +A RAINY DAY IN CAMP + + +The plans of the camper, like those of other men, "gang aft agley." The +morrow, which he proposed to devote to some long-desired hunting or +fishing trip, is no more apt to dawn propitiously on him than on the +husbandman, the mariner, or any other mortal who looks to the weather +for special favor. On the contrary, instead of the glowing horizon and +the glory of the sunburst that should usher in the morning, the slow +dawn is quite apt to have the unwelcome accompaniment of rain. + +The hearing, first alert of the drowsy senses, catches the sullen patter +of the drops on tent or shanty, their spiteful, hissing fall on the +smouldering embers of the camp-fire, and with a waft of damp earth and +herbage stealing into his nostrils, the disappointed awakener turns +fretfully under his blanket, then crawls forth to have his lingering +hope smothered in the veil of rain that blurs the landscape almost to +annihilation. + +He mutters anathemas against the weather, then takes the day as it has +come to him, for better or for worse. First, to make the best of it, he +piles high the camp-fire, and dispels with its glow and warmth some +cubic feet of gloom and dampness. Then he sets about breakfast-making, +scurrying forth from shelter to fire, in rapid culinary forays, battling +with the smoke, for glimpses of the contents of kettle and pan. His +repast is as pungent with smoke as the strong waters of Glenlivat, but +if that is valued for its flavor of peat-reek, why should he scorn food +for the like quality? + +Then if he delights in petty warfare with the elements, to bide the +pelting of the rain, to storm the abatis of wet thickets and suffer the +sapping and mining of insidious moisture, he girds up his loins and goes +forth with rod or gun, as his desire of conquest may incline him. + +But if he has come to his outing with the intention of pursuing sport +with bodily comfort, he is at once assured that this is unattainable +under the present conditions of the weather. Shall he beguile the +tediousness of a wet day in camp with books and papers? + +Nay, if they were not left behind in the busy, plodding world that he +came here to escape from, they should have been. He wants nothing here +that reminds him of traffic or politics; nothing of history, for now he +has only to do with the present; nothing of travel, for his concern now +is only with the exploration of this wild domain. He does not wish to be +bothered with fiction, idealized reality is what he desires. Neither +does he care for what other men have written of nature. Her book is +before him and he may read it from first hands. + +Looking forth from his snug shelter on the circumscribed landscape, he +marvels at the brightness of a distant yellow tree that shines like a +living flame through the veil of mist. The blaze of his sputtering +camp-fire is not brighter. He notices, as perhaps he never did before, +how distinctly the dark ramage of the branches is traced among the +brilliant leaves, as if with their autumnal hues they were given +transparency. Some unfelt waft of the upper air casts aside for a moment +the curtain of mist and briefly discloses a mountain peak, radiant with +all the hues of autumn, and it is as if one were given, as in a dream, a +glimpse of the undiscovered country. He realizes a dreamy pleasure in +watching the waves coming in out of the obscurity and dashing on the +shore, or pulsing away in fading leaden lines into the mystery of the +wrack. + +In the borders of the mist the ducks revel in the upper and nether +wetness, and with uncanny laughter the loon rejoices between his long +explorations of the aquatic depth. A mink, as heedless of rain as the +waterfowl, comes stealing along the shore, thridding the intricacies of +driftwood and web of wave-washed tree roots, often peering out in +inquisitive examination of the quiet camp. Less cautious visitors draw +nearer--the friendly chickadee, hanging from the nearest twig; the +nuthatch, sounding his penny trumpet, accompanied by the tap of the +woodpecker, as one creeps down, the other up a tree trunk; the scolding +jays, making as noisy protest over human intrusion as if they had just +discovered it; a saucy squirrel, scoffing and jeering, till tired of his +raillery he settles down to quiet nut-rasping under shelter of his tail. + +There are unseen visitors, too: wood-mice, astir under cover of the +fallen leaves, and, just discernible among the patter of the falling +rain and of the squirrels' filings, footfalls unidentified, till a +ruffed grouse starts new showers from the wet branches in the thunder of +his flight. + +Narrowed to the width of tent or shanty front, the background but a +pallid shroud of mist, the landscape yet holds much for pleasant study. +But if the weather-bound camper exhausts this or tires of it, he may +turn to gun-cleaning or tackle-mending. If a guide be with him, he can +listen to his stories of hunting, fishing, and adventure, or learn +woodcraft of him and the curious ways of birds and beasts. He may +fashion birch-bark camp-ware, dippers, cups, and boxes, or whittle a +paddle from a smooth-rifted maple. If he is of artistic turn, he can +pleasantly devote an hour to etching pictures on the white under surface +of the fungus that grows on decaying trees, and so provide himself with +reminders of this rainy day in camp. + +So, with one and another pastime, he whiles away the sunless day, which, +almost before he has thought of it, merges into the early nightfall, and +he is lulled to sleep by the same sound that wakened him, the drip and +patter of the rain. And when he looks back to these days of outing he +may count this, which dawned so unpropitiously, not the least pleasant +and profitable among them, and mark with a white stone the rainy day in +camp. + + + + +XXV + +AUGUST DAYS + + +With such unmistakable signs made manifest to the eye and ear the summer +signals its fullness and decline, that one awakening now from a sleep +that fell upon him months ago might be assured of the season with the +first touch of awakening. + +To the first aroused sense comes the long-drawn cry of the locust fading +into silence with the dry, husky clap of his wings; the changed voice of +the song birds, no more caroling the jocund tunes of mating and nesting +time, but plaintive with the sadness of farewell. + +The bobolink has lost, with his pied coat, the merry lilt that tinkled +so continually over the buttercups and daisies of the June meadows; +rarely the song sparrow utters the trill that cheered us in the doubtful +days of early spring. The bluebird's abbreviated carol floats down from +the sky as sweet as then, but mournful as the patter of autumn leaves. +The gay goldfinch has but three notes left of his June song, as he tilts +on the latest blossoms and fluffy seeds of the thistles. The meadowlark +charms us no more with his long-drawn melody, but with one sharp, +insistent note he struts in the meadow stubble or skulks among the +tussocks of the pasture and challenges the youthful gunner. What an easy +shot that even, steady flight offers, and yet it goes onward with +unfaltering rapid wing-beats, while the gun thunders and the harmless +shot flies behind him. The flicker cackles now no more as when he was a +jubilant new comer, with the new-come spring for his comrade, but is +silent or only yelps one harsh note as he flashes his golden wings in +loping flight from fence-stake to ant-hill. + +The plover chuckles while he lingers at the bounteous feast of +grasshoppers, but never pierces the August air with the long wail that +proclaimed his springtime arrival. After nightfall, too, is heard his +chuckling call fluttering down from the aerial path, where he wends his +southward way, high and distinct above the shrill monotony of crickets +and August pipers. The listening sportsman may well imagine that the +departing bird is laughing at him as much as signaling his course to +companion wayfarers. + +The woodland thrushes' flutes and bells have ceased to breathe and +chime, only the wood pewee keeps his pensive song of other days, yet +best befitting those of declining summer. + +The trees are dark with ripened leafage; out of the twilight of the +woodside glow the declining disks of wild sunflowers and shine the +rising constellations of asters. The meadow sides are gay with unshorn +fringes of goldenrod and willow-herb, and there in the corners of the +gray fences droop the heavy clusters of elderberries, with whose purple +juice the flocking robins and the young grouse, stealing from the +shadowed copses along this belt of shade, dye their bills. + +The brook trails its attenuated thread out of the woodland gloom to gild +its shallow ripples with sunshine and redden them with the inverted +flames of the cardinals that blaze on the sedgy brink. Here the brown +mink prowls with her lithe cubs, all unworthy yet of the trapper's +skill, but tending toward it with growth accelerated by full feasts of +pool-impounded minnows. Here, too, the raccoon sets the print of his +footsteps on the muddy shores as he stays his stomach with frogs and +sharpens his appetite with the hot sauce of Indian turnip while he +awaits the setting of his feast in the cornfields. The hounds are more +impatient than he for the opening of his midnight revel, and tug at +their chains and whimper and bay when they hear his querulous call +trembling through the twilight. They are even fooled to melodiously +mournful protest when their ears catch the shriller quaver of the +screech owl's note. + +The woodcock skulks in the bordering alders, and when forced to flight +does so with a stronger wing than when a month ago his taking off was +first legally authorized. Another month will make him worthier game; and +then, too, the ruffed grouse need not be spared a shot, as full grown +and strong of pinion he bursts from cover; nor need the wood duck, now +but a vigorous bunch of pin feathers, be let go untried or unscathed, +when from his perch on a slanted log or out of a bower of rushes he +breaks into the upper air with startling flutter of wings and startled +squeak of alarm. + +Summer wanes, flowers fade, bird songs falter to mournful notes of +farewell; but while regretfully we mark the decline of these golden +days, we remember with a thrill of expectation that they slope to the +golden days of autumn, wherein the farmer garners his latest harvest, +the sportsman his first worthy harvest, and that to him that waits, come +all things, and even though he waits long, may come the best. + + + + +XXVI + +A VOYAGE IN THE DARK + + +A few days ago, a friend who is kind and patient enough to encumber +himself with the care of a blind man and a boy took me and my +twelve-year-old a-fishing. It was with a fresh realization of my +deprivation that I passed along the watery way once as familiar as the +dooryard path, but now shrouded for me in a gloom more impenetrable than +the blackness of the darkest night. I could only guess at the bends and +reaches as the south wind blew on one cheek or the other, or on my back, +only knowing where the channel draws near the shore upon which the +Indians encamped in the old days by the flutter of leaves overbearing +the rustle of rushes. By the chuckle of ripples under the bow, I guessed +when we were in mid-channel; by the entangled splash of an oar, when we +approached the reedy border where the water-lilies rode at anchor, and +discharged their subtle freight of perfume as they tossed in our wake. I +knew by his clatter, drawing nearer only with our progress, that a +kingfisher was perched on a channel-side fishing-stake, used in turn by +him and bigger but not more skillful fishers. I heard his headlong +plunge, but whether successful or not the ensuing clatter did not tell +me, for he has but one voice for all expressions. Yet as his rattling +cry was kept up till the rough edge of its harshness was worn away in +receding flight, I fancied he was proclaiming an unusually successful +achievement. For the sake of his reputation, he would never make such a +fuss over a failure, unless he was telling, as we do, of the big fish he +just missed catching. At any rate, I wished him good luck, for who would +begrudge a poor kingfisher such little fish as he must catch! They would +need years of growth to make them worth our catching or bragging over +the loss of, and by that time we may be done with fishing. + +Suddenly there was a roar of multitudinous wings as a host of redwings +upburst from springing and swaying wild rice stalks, all of which I saw +through the blackness illumined for an instant by memory,--the dusky +cloud uprising like the smoke of an explosion, the bent rice springing +up beneath its lifted burden, the dull-witted or greedy laggards +dribbling upward to join the majority. My companions exclaimed in one +voice at the rare sight of a white bird in the flock, and by the same +light of memory I also saw it as I saw one in an autumn forty years ago, +when, with my comrade of those days, I came "daown the crik" +duck-shooting, or trolling as to-day. Again and again we saw this +phenomenal bird like a white star twinkling through a murky cloud. The +fitful gleam was seen day after day, till the north wind blew him and +his cloud away southward. + +The pother of the blackbirds overhead disturbed the meditations of a +bittern, who, with an alarmed croak, jerked his ungainly form aloft in a +flurry of awkward wing-beats, and went sagging across the marshes in +search of safer seclusion. I wished that he might find it, and escape +the ruthless gunners that will presently come to desolate these +marshes. Very different from his uprising was that of a pair of wood +ducks, revealing their unsuspected presence with startling suddenness, +as they sprang from water to air with a splash and whistle of rapid +wings and their squeaking alarm cry, and then flew swiftly away, the +sibilant wing-beats pulsing out in the distance. These, too, I wished +might safely run the gauntlet of all the guns that will be arrayed +against them when the summer truce is broken. If I had not been mustered +out, or if my boy were mustered in, no doubt I should feel differently +toward the inhabitants of these marshes. Compulsory abstinence makes one +exceedingly virtuous, and because I am virtuous there shall be no cakes +and ale for any one. + +The absence of the rail's cackle was noticeable, a clamor that used to +be provoked at this season by every sudden noise. We never got sight of +the "ma'sh chickens" as they skulked among the sedges; and when the +birds were pressed to flight, rarely caught more than a fleeting glimpse +as they topped the rushes for an instant, and dropped again into the +mazes of the marsh. But they were always announcing a numerous if +invisible presence where now not one answered to our voices or the noise +of our oars. + +All this while our trolling gear was in tow: the boy's a "phantom +minnow" bristling with barbs, a veritable porcupine fish; mine a fluted +spoon. The larger fish seemed attracted by the better imitation, or +perhaps age and experience had given them discernment to shun the other +more glaring sham, and the best of them went to the boy's score; but the +unwise majority of smaller fish were evidently anxious to secure +souvenir spoons of Little Otter, and in consequence of that desire I was +"high hook" as to numbers. They were only pickerel at best, though some +of them, bearing their spots on a green ground, are honored with the +name of "maskalonge" by our fishermen. A scratch of the finger-nail +across the scaly gill-cover gives proof enough to convince even a blind +man of the worthlessness of this claim to distinction. + +Once I enjoyed an exaltation of spirit only to suffer humiliation. There +was a tug at the hooks, so heavy that my first thought was of a snag, +and I was on the point of calling out to my friend to stop rowing. Then +there was a slight yielding, and the tremor that tells unmistakably of a +fish. "Now," said I, with my heart but a little way back of my teeth, "I +am fast to something like a fish, but I shall never be able to boat him. +He is too big to lift out with the hooks, and I can't see to get him by +the gills, and so I shall lose him." As he came in slowly, stubbornly +fighting against every shortening inch of line, I almost wished he had +not been hooked at all only to be lost at last. When, after a time, my +fish was hauled near the boat and in sight of my companions, my catch +proved to be no monster, but a pickerel of very ordinary size hooked by +the belly, and so my hopes and fears vanished together. + +I think distances are magnified to the blind, for it seemed twice as far +as it did of old from the East Slang to the South Slang, as we passed +these oddly named tributaries of Little Otter. + +At last I sniffed the fragrance of cedars and heard the wash of waves on +the southward-slanted shore of Garden Island, and these informed me we +were at the lake. In confirmation thereof was the testimony of my +companions, given out of their light to my darkness, of an eagle's royal +progress through his ethereal realm, making inspection of his disputed +earthly possession. I was glad to know that his majesty had escaped the +republican regicides who haunt the summer shores. + +We made a difficult landing on the mainland, on the oozy shore of mixed +sawdust and mud, and followed the old trail to the old camping ground +under the rocks, a place full of pleasant memories for the elder two of +our trio, and offering to the boy the charms of freshness and discovery. +For him the cliff towered skyward but little below the eagle's flight; +its tiny caves were unexplored mysteries, their coral-beaded curtains of +Canada yew and delicate netting of mountain-fringe strange foreign +growths. Through his undimmed eyes I had glimpses of those happy shores +whereon the sun always shines and no cloud arises beyond. What a little +way behind they seem in the voyage that has grown wearisome, and yet we +can never revisit them for a day nor for an hour, and it is like a dream +that we ever dwelt there. + +Bearing with us from this port something not marketable nor even +visible, yet worth carrying home, we reembarked, and the wind, blowing +in my face, informed me we were homeward bound. One after another, we +passed five boats of fishing parties tied up at as many stakes, the +crews pursuing their pastime with steadfast patience, as their intent +silence proclaimed. To me they were as ships passed in the night. I had +no other knowledge of them than this, except that my friend told me +there was a fat woman in each boat, and that one of them boasted to us, +with motherly pride, of a big pickerel caught by her little girl. + +A blended hum of bumblebees droned in among us, and my companions +remarked that one of the aerial voyagers had boarded our craft, while I +maintained there were two, which proved to be the fact; whereupon I +argued that my ears were better than their eyes, but failed to convince +them or even myself. I welcomed the bees as old acquaintances, who, in +the duck-shooting of past years, always used to come aboard and bear us +company for awhile, rarely alighting, but tacking from stem to stern on +a cruise of inspection, till at last, satisfied or disappointed, they +went booming out of sight and hearing over marshfuls of blue spikes of +pickerel weed and white trinities of arrowhead. I cannot imagine why +bees should be attracted to the barrenness of a boat, unless by a +curiosity to explore such strange floating islands, though their dry +wood promises neither leaf nor bloom. + +I hear of people every year who forsake leafage and bloom to search the +frozen desolation of the polar north for the Lord knows what, and I +cease to wonder at the bees, when men so waste the summers that are +given them to enjoy if they will but bide in them. + +We passed many new houses of the muskrats, who are building close to the +channel this year in prophecy of continued low water. But muskrats are +not infallible prophets, and sometimes suffer therefor in starvation or +drowning. The labor of the night-workers was suspended in the glare of +the August afternoon, and their houses were as silent as if deserted, +though we doubted not there were happy households inside them, +untroubled by dreams of famine or deluge, or possibly of the +unmercifulness of man, though that seems an abiding terror with our +lesser brethren. Winter before last the marshes were frozen to the +bottom, blockading the muskrats in their houses, where entire families +perished miserably after being starved to cannibalism. Some dug out +through the house roofs, and wandered far across the desolate wintry +fields in search of food. Yet nature, indifferent to all fates, has so +fostered them since that direful season that the marshy shores are +populous again with sedge-thatched houses. + +As we neared our home port we met two trollers, one of whom lifted up +for envious inspection a lusty pickerel. "He's as big as your leg," my +friend replied to my inquiry concerning its dimensions, and in aid of my +further inquisitiveness asked the lucky captor how much the fish would +weigh. "Wal, I guess he ought to weigh abaout seven pounds," was +answered, after careful consideration. We learned afterwards that its +actual weight was nine pounds, and I set that man down as a very honest +angler. + +Presently our boat ran her nose into the familiar mire of well-named Mud +Landing, and we exchanged oars for legs, which we plied with right good +will, for a thunderstorm was beginning to bellow behind us. + + + + +XXVII + +THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE + + +A thin column of smoke seen rising lazily among the leafy trees and +fading to a wavering film in the warm morning air or the hotter breath +of noon, a flickering blaze kindling in the sultry dusk on some quiet +shore, mark the place of the summer camp-fire. + +It is not, like the great hospitable flare and glowing coals of the +autumn and winter camp-fires, the centre to which all are drawn, about +which the life of the camp gathers, where joke and repartee flash to and +fro as naturally and as frequently as its own sparks fly upward, where +stories come forth as continuously as the ever-rising volume of smoke. + +Rather it is avoided and kept aloof from, held to only by the unhappy +wretch upon whom devolves the task of tending the pot and frying-pan, +and he hovers near it fitfully, like a moth about a candle, now backing +away to mop his hot face, now darting into the torrid circle to turn a +fish or snatch away a seething pot or sizzling pan. Now and then the +curious and hungry approach to note with what skill or speed the cookery +is progressing, but they are content to look on at a respectful distance +and to make suggestions and criticisms, but not to interfere with aid. +The epicurean smoker, who holds that the finest flavor of tobacco is +evoked only by coal or blazing splinter, steals down upon the windward +side and snatches a reluctant ember or an elusive flame that flickers +out on the brink of the pipe bowl, but most who burn the weed are +content now to kindle it with the less fervid flame of a match. + +And yet this now uncomfortable necessity is still the heart of the camp, +which without it would be but a halting place for a day, where one +appeases hunger with a cold bite and thirst with draughts of tepid +water, and not a temporary home where man has his own fireside, though +he care not to sit near it, and feasts full on hot viands and refreshes +himself with the steaming cup that cheers but not inebriates. + +Its smoke drifted far through the woods may prove a pungent trail, +scented out among the odors of balsams and the perfume of flowers that +shall lead hither some pleasant stranger or unexpected friend, or its +firefly glow, flashing but feebly through the gloaming, may be a beacon +that shall bring such company. In its praise may also be said that the +summer camp-fire demands no laborious feeding nor careful tending, is +always a servant, seldom a master. + + + + +XXVIII + +THE RACCOON + + +Summer is past its height. The songless bobolink has forsaken the shorn +meadow. Grain fields, save the battalioned maize, have fallen from +gracefulness and beauty of bending heads and ripple of mimic waves to +bristling acres of stubble. From the thriftless borders of ripening +weeds busy flocks of yellowbirds in faded plumage scatter in sudden +flight at one's approach like upblown flurries of dun leaves. Goldenrod +gilds the fence-corners, asters shine in the dewy borders of the woods, +sole survivors of the floral world save the persistent bloom of the wild +carrot and succory--flourishing as if there had never been mower or +reaper--and the white blossoms of the buckwheat crowning the filling +kernels. The fervid days have grown preceptibly shorter, the lengthening +nights have a chilly autumnal flavor, and in the cool dusk the katydids +call and answer one to another out of their leafy tents, and the +delicate green crickets that Yankee folks call August pipers play their +monotonous tune. Above the katydid's strident cry and the piper's +incessant notes, a wild tremulous whinny shivers through the gloom at +intervals, now from a distant field or wood, now from the near orchard. +One listener will tell you that it is only a little screech owl's voice, +another that it is the raccoon's rallying cry to a raid on the +cornfield. There is endless disputation concerning it and apparently no +certainty, but the raccoon is wilder than the owl, and it is pleasanter +to believe that it is his voice that you hear. + +The corn is in the milk; the feast is ready. The father and mother and +well grown children, born and reared in the cavern of a ledge or hollow +tree of a swamp, are hungry for sweets remembered or yet untasted, and +they are gathering to it, stealing out of the thick darkness of the +woods and along the brookside in single file, never stopping to dig a +fiery wake-robin bulb nor to catch a frog nor harry a late brood of +ground-nesting birds, but only to call some laggard, or distant +clansfolk. So one fancies, when the quavering cry is repeated and when +it ceases, that all the free-booters have gained the cornfield and are +silent with busy looting. Next day's examination of the field may +confirm the fancy with the sight of torn and trampled stalks and munched +ears. These are the nights when the coon hunter is abroad and the +robbers' revel is likely to be broken up in a wild panic. + +Hunted only at night, to follow the coon the boldest rider must +dismount, yet he who risks neck and limbs, or melts or freezes for +sport's sake, and deems no sport manly that has not a spice of danger or +discomfort in it, must not despise this humble pastime for such reason. + +On leaving the highway that leads nearest to the hunting ground, the way +of the coon hunters takes them, in darkness or feeble lantern light, +over rough and uncertain footing, till the cornfield's edge is reached +and the dogs cast off. Away go the hounds, their course only indicated +by the rustling of the corn leaves, as they range through the field, +until one old truth-teller gives tongue on the track of a coon who +perhaps has brought his whole family out on a nocturnal picnic. The +hounds sweep straight away, in full cry, on the hot scent to hill or +swamp, where their steadfast baying proclaims that the game is treed. + +Then follows a pell-mell scramble toward the musical uproar. Stones, +cradle knolls, logs, stumps, mud holes, brambles and all the inanimate +enemies that lie in wait for man when he hastens in the dark, combine to +trip, bump, bruise, sprain, scratch, and bemire the hurrying hunters. + +Then when all have gathered at the centre of attraction, where the +excited hounds are raving about the boll of some great tree, the best +and boldest climber volunteers to go aloft into the upper darkness and +shake the quarry down or shoot him if may be. If he succeeds in +accomplishing the difficult task, what a melee ensues when the coon +crashes through the branches to the ground and becomes the erratic +centre of the wild huddle of dogs and men. + +Fewer voices never broke the stillness of night with sounds more +unearthly than the medley of raging, yelping, growling, cheering, and +vociferous orders given forth by dogs, coon, and hunters, while hillside +and woodland toss to and fro a more discordant badinage of echo. The +coon is not a great beast, but a tough and sharp-toothed one, who +carries beneath his gray coat and fat ribs a stout heart and wonderful +vitality; and a tussle with a veteran of the tribe of cornfield robbers +tests the pluck of the dogs. + +If the coon takes refuge in a tree too tall and limbless for his +pursuers to climb, there is nothing for them but to keep watch and ward +till daylight discovers him crouched on his lofty perch. A huge fire +enlivens the long hours of guard keeping. A foraging party repairs to +the nearest cornfield for roasting ears, and the hunters shorten the +slow nighttide with munching scorched corn, sauced by joke and song and +tales of the coon hunts of bygone years. + +The waning moon throbs into view above a serrated hill-crest, then +climbs the sky, while the shadows draw eastward, then pales in the dawn, +and when it is like a blotch of white cloud in the zenith, a sunrise gun +welcomes day and brings the coon tumbling to earth. Or perhaps not a +coon, but some vagrant house cat is the poor reward of the long watch. +Then the weary hunters plod homeward to breakfast and to nail their +trophies to the barn door. + +When the sweet acorns, dropping in the frosty night, tempt the coon to a +later feast, there is as good sport and primer peltry. In any of the +nights wherein this sport may be pursued, the man of lazy mould and +contemplative mind loves best the hunt deemed unsuccessful by the more +ardent hunters, when the hounds strike the trail of a wandering fox and +carry a tide of wild music, flooding and ebbing over valley and hilltop, +while the indolent hunter reclines at ease, smoking his pipe and +listening, content to let more ambitious hunters stumble over ledges and +wallow through swamps. + +When winter begins, the coon retires for a long and comfortable sleep, +warmly clothed in fur and fat. A great midwinter thaw awakens him, +fooled out of a part of his nap by the siren song of the south wind, and +he wanders forth in quest of something. If food, he never finds it, and +as far as I have been able to determine, does not even seek it. I should +imagine, reading the record of his journey as he prints it in his course +from hollow tree or hollow ledge to other hollow trees and hollow +ledges, that he had been awakened to a sense of loneliness and was +seeking old friends in familiar haunts, with whom to talk over last +year's cornfield raids and frogging parties in past summer +nights--perchance to plan future campaigns. Or is it an inward fire and +no outward warmth that has thawed him into this sudden activity? Has he, +like many of his biggers and betters, gone a-wooing in winter nights? + +At such times the thrifty hunter who has an eye more to profit and prime +peltry than to sport, goes forth armed only with an axe. Taking the +track of the wanderers, he follows it to their last tarrying place. If +it be a cave, they are safe except from the trap when they come forth to +begin another journey; but if it is a hollow tree, woe betide the poor +wretches. The hunter saps the foundation of their castle, and when it +crashes to its fall he ignominiously knocks the dazed inmates on the +head. It is fashionable for others to wear the coat which becomes the +raccoon much better than them and which once robbed of he can never +replace. + +During the spring and early summer little is seen of the raccoon. His +tracks may be found on a sandy shore or margin of a brook and +occasionally his call can be heard, if indeed it be his, but beyond +these he gives little evidence of his existence. There must be nocturnal +excursions for food, but for the most part old and young abide in their +rocky fortress or wooden tower. They are reported to be a playful +family, and the report is confirmed by the pranks of domesticated +members of it. Sometimes there will be found in one of their ravaged +homes a rounded gnarl worn smooth with much handling or pawing, the +sole furniture of the house and evidently a plaything. + +This little brother of the bear is one of the few remaining links that +connect us with the old times, when there were trees older than living +men, when all the world had not entered for the race to gain the prize +of wealth, or place, or renown; when it was the sum of all happiness for +some of us to "go a-coonin'." It is pleasant to see the track of this +midnight prowler, this despoiler of cornfields, imprinted in the mud of +the lane or along the soft margin of the brook, to know that he +survives, though he may not be the fittest. When he has gone forever, +those who outlive him will know whether it was his quavering note that +jarred the still air of the early fall evenings or if it was only the +voice of the owl--if he too shall not then have gone the inevitable way +of all the wild world. + + + + +XXIX + +THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE + + +The depressing opposite of the fire that is the warm heart of the camp +is the pile of green or rain-soaked fuel that in spite of all coaxing +and nursing refuses to yield a cheerful flame. Shavings from the +resin-embalmed heart of a dead pine and scrolls of birch bark fail to +enkindle it to more than flicker and smoke, while the wet and hungry +campers brood forlornly over the cheerless centre of their temporary +home, with watery eyes and souls growing sick of camp life. + +Night is falling, and the shadows of the woods thicken into solid gloom +that teems with mysterious horrors, which stretch their intangible claws +through the darkness to chill the backs of the timid with an icy touch, +and the silence is terrible with unuttered howlings of imaginary beasts. + +Each one is ready to blame the other for the common discomfort, and all, +the high priest, who so far fails to kindle the altar fire. He is an +impostor, who should be smothered in the reek of his own failure. Yet, +as the group regard him with unkind glances and mutterings of +disapproval, he perseveres, feeding the faint flame with choice morsels +of fat wood and nursing it with his breath, his bent face and puffed +cheeks now a little lightened, now fading into gloom, till suddenly the +sullenness of the reluctant fuel is overcome, wings of flame flutter up +the column of smoke, and the black pile leaps into a lurid tower of +light, from whose peak a white banner of smoke flaunts upward, saluted +by the waving boughs that it streams among. + +Tent and shanty, familiar trees, and moving figures with their circle of +grotesque, dancing shadows, spring into sudden existence out of the +blank darkness. The magic touch of the firelight dispels every sullen +look, warms every heart to genial comradeship; jokes flash back and +forth merrily, and the camp pulses again with reawakened cheerful life. +Verily, fire worketh wonders in divers ways. + + + + +XXX + +SEPTEMBER DAYS + + +September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in +their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn. The cricket +chirps in the noontide, making the most of what remains of his brief +life; the bumblebee is busy among the clover blossoms of the aftermath; +and their shrill cry and dreamy hum hold the outdoor world above the +voices of the song birds, now silent or departed. + +What a little while ago they were our familiars, noted all about us in +their accustomed haunts--sparrow, robin, and oriole, each trying now and +then, as if to keep it in memory, a strain of his springtime love song, +and the cuckoo fluting a farewell prophecy of rain. The bobolinks, in +sober sameness of traveling gear, still held the meadowside thickets of +weeds; and the swallows sat in sedate conclave on the barn ridge. +Then, looking and listening for them, we suddenly become aware they are +gone; the adobe city of the eave-dwellers is silent and deserted; the +whilom choristers of the sunny summer meadows are departed to a less +hospitable welcome in more genial climes. How unobtrusive was their +exodus. We awake and miss them, or we think of them and see them not, +and then we realize that with them summer too has gone. + +This also the wafted thistledown and the blooming asters tell us, and, +though the woods are dark with their latest greenness, in the lowlands +the gaudy standard of autumn is already displayed. In its shadow the +muskrat is thatching his winter home, and on his new-shorn watery lawn +the full-fledged wild duck broods disport in fullness of feather and +strength of pinion. Evil days are these of September that now befall +them. Alack, for the callow days of peaceful summer, when no honest +gunner was abroad, and the law held the murderous gun in abeyance, and +only the keel of the unarmed angler rippled the still channel. +Continual unrest and abiding fear are their lot now and henceforth, till +spring brings the truce of close time to their persecuted race. + +More silently than the fisher's craft the skiff of the sportsman now +invades the rush-paled thoroughfares. Noiseless as ghosts, paddler and +shooter glide along the even path till, alarmed by some keener sense +than is given us, up rise wood duck, dusky duck, and teal from their +reedy cover. Then the ready gun belches its thunder, and suddenly +consternation pervades the marshes. All the world has burst forth in a +burning of powder. From end to end, from border to border, the fenny +expanse roars with discharge and echo, and nowhere within it is there +peace or rest for the sole of a webbed foot. Even the poor bittern and +heron, harmless and worthless, flap to and fro from one to another now +unsafe retreat, in constant danger of death from every booby gunner who +can cover their slow flight. + +The upland woods, too, are awakened from the slumber of their late +summer days. How silent they had grown when their songsters had +departed, rarely stirred but by the woodpecker's busy hammer, the +chatter and bark of squirrels, and the crows making vociferous +proclamation against some winged or furred enemy. The grouse have waxed +fat among the border patches of berry bushes, rarely disturbed in the +seclusion of the thickets but by the soft footfall of the fox, the +fleeting shadow of a cruising hawk, and the halloo of the cowboy driving +home his herd from the hillside pasture. Now come enemies more +relentless than beast or bird of prey, a sound more alarming than the +cowboy's distant call--man and his companion the dog, and the terrible +thunder of the gun. A new terror is revealed to the young birds, a +half-forgotten one brought afresh to the old. The crows have found fresh +cause for clamor, and the squirrels lapse into a silence of fear. + +Peace and the quietness of peace have departed from the realm of the +woods, and henceforth while the green leaves grow bright as blossoms +with the touch of frost, then brown and sere, and till long after they +lie under the white shroud of winter, its wild denizens shall abide in +constant fear and unrest. + +So fares it with the wood-folk, these days of September, wherein the +sportsman rejoiceth with exceeding gladness. + + + + +XXXI + +A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED + + +Why kill, for the mere sake of killing or the exhibition of one's skill, +any wild thing that when alive harms no one and when killed is of no +worth? The more happy wild life there is in the world, the pleasanter it +is for all of us. + +When one is duck-shooting on inland waters, sitting alert in the bow of +the skiff with his gun ready for the expected gaudy wood duck, or plump +mallard, or loud quacking dusky duck, or swift-winged teal, to rise with +a splashing flutter out of the wild rice, and there is a sudden beating +of broad wings among the sedges with a startled guttural quack, and +one's heart leaps to his throat and his gun to his shoulder, and +then--only an awkward bittern climbs the September breeze with a slow +incline, there is a vengeful temptation to let drive at the +disappointing good-for-nothing. But why not let the poor fellow go? If +you dropped him back into the marsh to rot unprofitably there, disdained +even by the mink, unattainable to the scavenger skunk, what good would +it do you? If he disappointed you, you disturbed him in his meditations, +or in the pursuit of a poor but honest living. Perhaps a great heron too +intent on his fishing or frogging, or dozing in the fancied seclusion of +his reedy bower, springs up within short range and goes lagging away on +his broad vans. He may be taken home to show, for he is worth showing +even when killed. But if you wish your friends to see him at his best, +bring them to him and let them see how well he befits these sedgy +levels--a goodly sight, whether he makes his lazy flight above them or +stands a motionless sentinel in the oozy shallows. The marshes would be +desolate without him, or if one desires the charm of loneliness, his +silent presence adds to it. + +A kingfisher comes clattering along the channel. As he jerks his swift +way over the sluggish water he may test your marksmanship, but as he +hangs with rapid wing-beats over a school of minnows, as steadfast for +a minute as a star forever, needing no skill to launch him to his final +unrewarded plunge, do not kill him! In such waters he takes no fish that +you would, and he enlivens the scene more than almost any other +frequenter of it, never skulking and hiding, but with metallic, +vociferous clatter heralding his coming. One never tires of watching his +still mid-air poise, the same in calm or wind, and his unerring headlong +plunge. + +When one wanders along a willowy stream with his gun, cautiously +approaching every lily-padded pool and shadowed bend likely to harbor +wood duck or teal, and finds neither, and his ears begin to ache for the +sound of his gun--if a green heron flaps off a branch before him he is +sorely tempted to shoot the ungainly bird, but if the gun must be heard, +let it speak to a stump or a tossed chip, either as difficult a target +as he, and let the poor harmless little heron live. Uncouth as he is, he +comes in well in the picture of such a watercourse, which has done with +the worry of turning mills, left far behind with their noise and bustle +on foaming rapids among the hills, and crawls now in lazy ease through +wide intervales, under elms and water maples and thickets of willows. + +On the uplands, where the meadow lark starts out of the grass with a +sharp, defiant "zeet!" and speeds away on his steady game-like flight, +remember before you stop it, or try to, of how little account he is when +brought to bag; and how when the weary days of winter had passed, his +cheery voice welcomed the coming spring, a little later than the +robin's, a little earlier than the flicker's cackle; and what an +enlivening dot of color his yellow breast made where he strutted in the +dun, bare meadows. + +In some States the woodpeckers are unprotected and are a mark for every +gunner. Their galloping flight tempts the ambitious young shooter to try +his skill, but they are among the best friends of the arboriculturist +and the fruit-grower, for though some of them steal cherries and peck +early apples, and one species sucks the sap of trees, they are the only +birds that search out and kill the insidious, destructive borer. + +In some States, too, the hare is unprotected by any law, and it is +common custom to hunt it, even so late as April, for the mere sake of +killing, apparently; or perhaps the charm of the hound's music, which +makes the butchery of Adirondack deer so delightful a sport to some, +adds a zest to the slaughter of these innocents--though, be it said, +there is no comparison in the marksmanship required. Alive, the northern +hare is one of the most harmless of animals; dead, he is, in the opinion +of most people, one of the most worthless; so worthless that hunters +frequently leave the result of all their day's "sport" in the woods +where they were killed. Yet the hare is legitimate game, and should be +hunted as such, and only in proper seasons, and not be ruthlessly +exterminated. A woodland stroll is the pleasanter if one sees a hare +there in his brown summer suit, or white as the snow about him in his +winter furs. + +Where there are no statute laws for the protection of game and harmless +creatures not so classed, an unwritten law of common sense, common +decency, and common humanity should be powerful enough to protect all +these. The fox is an outlaw; it is every one's legal right to kill him +whenever and however he may, and yet wherever the fox is hunted with any +semblance of fair play, whether in New England with gun and hound, or +elsewhere with horse and hound, the man who traps a fox, or kills one +unseasonably, or destroys a vixen and her cubs, bears an evil +reputation. A sentiment as popular and as potent ought to prevail to +protect those that, though harmless, are as unshielded by legislative +enactments as the fox, and much less guarded by natural laws and inborn +cunning. + + + + +XXXII + +THE SKUNK + + +Always and everywhere in evil repute and bad odor, hunted, trapped, and +killed, a pest and a fur-bearer, it is a wonder that the skunk is not +exterminated, and that he is not even uncommon. + +With an eye to the main chance, the fur-trapper spares him when fur is +not prime, but when the letter "R" has become well established in the +months the cruel trap gapes for him at his outgoing and incoming, at the +door of every discovered burrow, while all the year round the farmer, +sportsman, and poultry-grower wage truceless war against him. + +Notwithstanding this general outlawry, when you go forth of a winter +morning, after a night of thaw or tempered chill, you see his authentic +signature on the snow, the unmistakable diagonal row of four footprints +each, or short-spaced alternate tracks, where he has sallied out for a +change from the subterranean darkness of his burrow, or from his as +rayless borrowed quarters beneath the barn, to the starlight or pale +gloom of midnight winter landscape. + +More often are you made aware of his continued survival by another sense +than sight, when his far-reaching odor comes down the vernal breeze or +waft of summer air, rankly overbearing all the fragrance of springing +verdure, or perfume of flowers and new-mown hay, and you well know who +has somewhere and somehow been forced to take most offensively the +defensive. + +It may be said of him that his actions speak louder than his words. Yet +the voiceless creature sometimes makes known his presence by sound, and +frightens the belated farm boy, whom he curiously follows with a +mysterious, hollow beating of his feet upon the ground. + +Patches of neatly inverted turf in a grub-infested pasture tell those +who know his ways that the skunk has been doing the farmer good service +here, and making amends for poultry stealing, and you are inclined to +regard him with more favor. But when you come upon the empty shells of a +raided partridge nest, your sportsman's wrath is enkindled against him +for forestalling your gun. Yet who shall say that you had a better right +to the partridges than he to the eggs? + +If you are so favored, you can but admire the pretty sight of the mother +with her cubs basking in a sunny nook or leading them afield in single +file, a black and white procession. + +If by another name the rose would smell as sweet, our old acquaintance +is in far better odor for change of appellation from that so suggestive +of his rank offenses. What beauty of fair faces would be spoiled with +scorn by a hint of the vulgar name which in unadorned truth belongs to +the handsome glossy black muff and boa that keep warm those dainty +fingers and swan-like neck. Yet through the furrier's art and cunning +they undergo a magic transformation into something to be worn with +pride, and the every-day wear of the despised outlaw becomes the prized +apparel of the fair lady. + +If unto this humble night wanderer is vouchsafed a life beyond his brief +earthly existence, imagine him in that unhunted, trapless paradise of +uncounted eggs and callow nestlings, grinning a wide derisive smile as +he beholds what fools we mortals be, so fooled by ourselves and one +another. + + + + +XXXIII + +A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD + + +Some wooden tent-pins inclosing a few square yards of ground half +covered with a bed of evergreen twigs, matted but still fresh and +odorous, a litter of paper and powder-smirched rags, empty cans and +boxes, a few sticks of fire wood, a blackened, primitive wooden crane, +with its half-charred supporting crotches, and a smouldering heap of +ashes and dying brands, mark the place of a camp recently deserted. + +Coming upon it by chance, one could not help a feeling of loneliness, +something akin to that inspired by the cold hearthstone of an empty +house, or the crumbling foundations of a dwelling long since fallen to +ruin. What days and nights of healthful life have been spent here. What +happy hours, never to return, have been passed here. What jokes have +flashed about, what merry tales have been told, what joyous peals of +laughter rung, where now all is silence. But no one is there to see it. +A crow peers down from a treetop to discover what pickings he may glean, +and a mink steals up from the landing, which bears the keelmarks of +lately departed boats, both distrustful of the old silence which the +place has so suddenly resumed; and a company of jays flit silently +about, wondering that there are no intruders to assail with their +inexhaustible vocabulary. + +A puff of wind rustles among the treetops, disturbing the balance of the +crow, then plunges downward and sets aflight a scurry of dry leaves, and +out of the gray ashes uncoils a thread of smoke and spins it off into +the haze of leaves and shadows. The crow flaps in sudden alarm, the mink +takes shelter in his coign of vantage among the driftwood, and the jays +raise a multitudinous clamor of discordant outcry. The dry leaves alight +as if by mischievous guidance of evil purpose upon the dormant embers, +another puff of wind arouses a flame that first tastes them, then licks +them with an eager tongue, then with the next eddying breath scatters +its crumbs of sparks into the verge of the forest. These the rising +breeze fans till it loads itself with a light burden of smoke, shifted +now here, now there, as it is trailed along the forest floor, now +climbing among the branches, then soaring skyward. + +Little flames creep along the bodies of fallen trees and fluffy windrows +of dry leaves, toying like panther kittens with their assured prey, and +then, grown hungry with such dainty tasting, the flames upburst in a mad +fury of devouring. They climb swifter than panthers to treetops, falling +back they gnaw savagely at tree roots, till the ancient lords of the +forest reel and topple and fall before the gathering wind, and bear +their destroyer still onward. + +The leeward woods are thick with a blinding, stifling smoke, through +which all the wild creatures of the forest flee in terror, whither they +know not--by chance to safety, by equal chance perhaps to a terrible +death in the surging deluge of fire. The billows of flame heave and +dash with a constant insatiate roar, tossing ever onward a red foam of +sparks and casting a jetsam of lurid brands upon the ever-retreating +strand that is but touched with the wash of enkindling, when it is +overrun by the sea of fire. + +The ice-cold springs grow hot in its fierce overwhelming wave, the +purling rills hiss and boil and shrink before it, then vanish from their +seared beds. All the living greenness of the forest is utterly +consumed--great trees that have stood like towers, defying the +centuries, with the ephemeral verdure of the woodland undergrowth; and +to mark the place of all this recent majesty and beauty, there is but +smouldering ruin and black and ashen waste. Little farms but lately +uncovered to the sun out of the wilderness, cosy homesteads but newly +builded, are swept away, and with them cherished hopes and perhaps +precious lives. What irreparable devastation has been wrought by the +camp-fire run wild! + +Meanwhile the careless begetters of this havoc are making their +leisurely way toward the outer world of civilization, serenely noting +that the woods are on fire, and complacently congratulating themselves +that the disaster did not come to spoil their outing; never once +thinking that by a slight exercise of that care which all men owe the +world, this calamity, which a century cannot repair, might have been +avoided. + + + + +XXXIV + +THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE + + +A heap of ashes, a few half-burned brands, a blackened pair of crotched +sticks that mark the place of the once glowing heart of the camp, +furnish food for the imagination to feed upon or give the memory an +elusive taste of departed pleasures. + +If you were one of those who saw its living flame and felt its warmth, +the pleasant hours passed here come back with that touch of sadness +which accompanies the memory of all departed pleasures and yet makes it +not unwelcome. What was unpleasant, even what was almost unendurable, +has nearly faded out of remembrance or is recalled with a laugh. + +It was ten years ago, and the winds and fallen leaves of as many autumns +have scattered and covered the gray heap. If it was only last year, you +fancy that the smell of fire still lingers in the brands. How vividly +return to you the anxious deliberation with which the site was chosen +with a view to all attainable comfort and convenience, and the final +satisfaction that followed the establishment of this short-lived home, +short-lived but yet so much a home during its existence. Nothing +contributed so much to make it one as the camp-fire. How intently you +watched its first building and lighting, how labored for its maintenance +with awkwardly-wielded axe, how you inhaled the odors of its cookery and +essayed long-planned culinary experiments with extemporized implements, +over its beds of coals, and how you felt the consequent exaltation of +triumph or mortification of failure. + +All these come back to you, and the relighting of the fire in the sleepy +dawn, the strange mingling of white sunlight and yellow firelight when +the sun shot its first level rays athwart the camp, the bustle of +departure for the day's sport, the pleasant loneliness of camp-keeping +with only the silent woods, the crackling fire, and your thoughts for +company; the incoming at nightfall and the rekindling of the fire, when +the rosy bud of sleeping embers suddenly expanded into a great blossom +of light whose petals quivered and faded and brightened among the +encircling shadows of the woods. You laugh again at the jokes that ran +around that merry circle and wonder again and again at the ingenuity +with which small performances were magnified into great exploits, little +haps into strange adventure, and with which bad shots and poor catches +were excused. + +At last came breaking camp, the desolation of dismantling and +leave-taking. How many of you will ever meet again? How many of those +merry voices are stilled forever, from how many of those happy faces has +the light of life faded? + +Who lighted this camp-fire? Years have passed since it illumined the +nightly gloom of the woods, for moss and lichens are creeping over the +charred back-log. A green film is spread over the ashes, and thrifty +sprouts are springing up through them. + +You know that the campers were tent-dwellers, for there stand the rows +of rotten tent pins inclosing a rusty heap of mould that once was a +fragrant couch of evergreens inviting tired men to rest,--or you know +they spent their nights in a shanty, for there are the crumbling walls, +the fallen-in roof of bark which never again will echo song or jest. + +This pile of fish-bones attests that they were anglers, and skillful or +lucky ones, for the pile is large. If you are an ichthyologist, you can +learn by these vestiges of their sport whether they satisfied the desire +of soul and stomach with the baser or the nobler fishes; perhaps a +rotting pole, breaking with its own weight, may decide whether they +fished with worm or fly; but whether you relegate them to the class of +scientific or unscientific anglers, you doubt not they enjoyed their +sport as much in one way as in the other. + +You know that they were riflemen, for there is the record of their shots +in the healing bullet wounds on the trunk of a great beech. For a moment +you may fancy that the woods still echo the laughter that greeted the +shot that just raked the side of the tree; but it is only the cackle of +a yellow-hammer. + +There is nothing to tell you who they were, whence they came, or whither +they went; but they were campers, lovers of the great outdoor world, and +so akin to you, and you bid them hail and farewell without a meeting. + + + + +XXXV + +OCTOBER DAYS + + +Fields as green as when the summer birds caroled above them, woods more +gorgeous with innumerable hues and tints of ripening leaves than a +blooming parterre, are spread beneath the azure sky, whose deepest color +is reflected with intenser blue in lake and stream. In them against this +color are set the scarlet and gold of every tree upon their brinks, the +painted hills, the clear-cut mountain peaks, all downward pointing to +the depths of this nether sky. + +Overhead, thistledown and the silken balloon of the milkweed float on +their zephyr-wafted course, silver motes against the blue; and above +them are the black cohorts of crows in their straggling retreat to +softer climes. Now the dark column moves steadily onward, now veers in +confusion from some suspected or discovered danger, or pauses to assail +with a harsh clangor some sworn enemy of the sable brotherhood. Their +gay-clad smaller cousins, the jays, are for the most part silently +industrious among the gold and bronze of the beeches, flitting to and +fro with flashes of blue as they gather mast, but now and then finding +time to scold an intruder with an endless variety of discordant outcry. + +How sharp the dark shadows are cut against the sunlit fields, and in +their gloom how brightly shine the first fallen leaves and the starry +bloom of the asters. In cloudy days and even when rain is falling the +depths of the woods are not dark, for the bright foliage seems to give +forth light and casts no shadows beneath the lowering sky. + +The scarlet maples burn, the golden leaves of poplar and birch shine +through the misty veil, and the deep purple of the ash glows as if it +held a smouldering fire that the first breeze might fan into a flame, +and through all this luminous leafage one may trace branch and twig as a +wick in a candle flame. Only the evergreens are dark as when they bear +their steadfast green in the desolation of winter, and only they brood +shadows. + +In such weather the woodland air is laden with the light burden of odor, +the faintly pungent aroma of the ripened leaves, more subtle than the +scent of pine or fir, yet as apparent to the nostrils, as delightful and +more rare, for in the round of the year its days are few, while in +summer sunshine and winter wind, in springtime shower and autumnal +frost, pine, spruce, balsam, hemlock, and cedar distill their perfume +and lavish it on the breeze or gale of every season. + +Out of the marshes, now changing their universal green to brown and +bronze and gold, floats a finer odor than their common reek of ooze and +sodden weeds--a spicy tang of frost-ripened flags and the fainter breath +of the landward border of ferns; and with these also is mingled the +subtle pungency of the woodlands, where the pepperidge is burning out in +a blaze of scarlet, and the yellow flame of the poplars flickers in the +lightest breeze. + +The air is of a temper neither too hot nor too cold, and in what is now +rather the good gay wood than green wood, there are no longer pestering +insects to worry the flesh and trouble the spirit. The flies bask in +half torpid indolence, the tormenting whine of the mosquito is heard no +more. Of insect life one hears little but the mellow drone of the +bumblebee, the noontide chirp of the cricket, and the husky rustle of +the dragonfly's gauzy wing. + +Unwise are the tent-dwellers who have folded their canvas and departed +to the shelter of more stable roof-trees, for these are days that should +be made the most of, days that have brought the perfected ripeness of +the year and display it in the fullness of its glory. + + + + +XXXVI + +A COMMON EXPERIENCE + + +The keenest of the sportsman's disappointments is not a blank day, nor a +series of misses, unaccountable or too well accountable to a blundering +hand or unsteady nerves, nor adverse weather, nor gun or tackle broken +in the midst of sport, nor perversity of dogs, nor uncongeniality of +comradeship, nor yet even the sudden cold or the spell of rheumatism +that prevents his taking the field on the allotted morning. + +All these may be but for a day. To-morrow may bring game again to haunts +now untenanted, restore cunning to the awkward hand, steady the nerves, +mend the broken implement, make the dogs obedient and bring pleasanter +comrades or the comfortable lonesomeness of one's own companionship, and +to-morrow or next day or next week the cold and rheumatic twinges may +have passed into the realm of bygone ills. + +For a year, perhaps for many years, he has yearned for a sight of some +beloved haunt, endeared to him by old and cherished associations. He +fancies that once more among the scenes of his youthful exploits there +will return to him something of the boyish ardor, exuberance of spirit +and perfect freedom from care that made the enjoyment of those happy +hours so complete. He imagines that a draught from the old spring that +bubbles up in the shadow of the beeches or from the moss-brimmed basin +of the trout brook will rejuvenate him, at least for the moment while +its coolness lingers on his palate, as if he quaffed Ponce de Leon's +undiscovered fountain. He doubts not that in the breath of the old woods +he shall once more catch that faint, indescribable, but unforgotten +aroma, that subtle savor of wildness, that has so long eluded him, +sometimes tantalizing his nostrils with a touch, but never quite inhaled +since its pungent elixir made the young blood tingle in his veins. + +He has almost come to his own again, his long-lost possession in the +sunny realm of youth. It lies just beyond the hill before him, from +whose crest he shall see the nut-tree where he shot his first squirrel, +the southing slope where the beeches hide the spring, where he +astonished himself with the glory of killing his first grouse, and he +shall see the glint of the brook flashing down the evergreen dell and +creeping among the alder copses. + +He does not expect to find so many squirrels or grouse or trout now as +thirty years ago, when a double gun was a wonder, and its possession the +unrealized dream of himself and his comrades, and none of them had ever +seen jointed rod or artificial fly, and dynamite was uninvented. Yet all +the game and fish cannot have been driven from nor exterminated in +haunts so congenial and fostering as these, by the modern horde of +gunners and anglers and by the latter-day devices of destruction, and he +doubts not that he shall find enough to satisfy the tempered ardor of +the graybeard. + +Indeed, it is for something better than mere shooting or fishing that he +has come so far. One squirrel, flicking the leaves with his downfall, +one grouse plunging to earth midway in his thunderous flight, one trout +caught as he can catch him, now, will appease his moderate craving for +sport, and best and most desired of all, make him, for the nonce, a boy +again. He anticipates with quicker heartbeat the thrill of surprised +delight that choked him with its fullness when he achieved his first +triumph. + +At last the hilltop is gained, but what unfamiliar scene is this which +has taken the place of that so cherished in his memory and so longed +for? Can that naked hillside slanting toward him from the further rim of +the valley, forlorn in the desolation of recent clearing, be the wooded +slope of the other day? Can the poor, unpicturesque thread of water that +crawls in feeble attenuation between its shorn, unsightly banks be the +wild, free brook whose voice was a continual song, every rod of whose +amber and silver course was a picture? Even its fringes of willow and +alders, useful for their shade and cover when alive, but cut down +worthless even for fuel, have been swept from its margin by the ruthless +besom of destruction, as if everything that could beautify the landscape +must be blotted out to fulfill the mission of the spoiler. + +Near it, and sucking in frequent draughts from the faint stream, is a +thirsty and hungry little sawmill, the most obtrusive and most ignoble +feature of the landscape, whose beauty its remorseless fangs have gnawed +away. Every foot of the brook below it is foul with its castings, and +the fragments of its continual greedy feasting are thickly strewn far +and near. Yet it calls to the impoverished hills for more victims; its +shriek arouses discordant echoes where once resounded the music of the +brook, the song of birds, the grouse's drum call, and the mellow note of +the hound. + +Though sick at heart with the doleful scene, the returned exile descends +to his harried domain hoping that he may yet find some vestige of its +former wealth, but only more disappointments reward his quest. Not a +trout flashes through the shrunken pools. The once limpid spring is a +quagmire among rotting stumps. The rough nakedness of the hillside is +clad only with thistles and fireweed, with here and there a patch of +blanched dead leaves, dross of the old gold of the beech's ancient +autumnal glory. + +Of all he hoped for nothing is realized, and he finds only woful change, +irreparable loss. His heart heavy with sorrow and bursting with impotent +wrath against the ruthless spoiler, he turns his back forever on the +desolated scene of his boyhood's sports. + +Alas! That one should ever attempt to retouch the time-faded but +beautiful pictures that the memory holds. + + + + +XXXVII + +THE RED SQUIRREL + + +A hawk, flashing the old gold of his pinions in the face of the sun, +flings down a shrill, husky cry of intense scorn; a jay scolds like a +shrew; from his safe isolation in the midwater, a loon taunts you and +the awakening winds with his wild laughter; there is a jeer in the +chuckling diminuendo of the woodchuck's whistle, a taunt in the fox's +gasping bark as he scurries unseen behind the veil of night; and a scoff +on hunters and hounds and cornfield owners is flung out through the +gloaming in the raccoon's quavering cry. But of all the wild world's +inhabitants, feathered or furred, none outdo the saucy red squirrel in +taunts, gibes, and mockery of their common enemy. + +He is inspired with derision that is expressed in every tone and +gesture. His agile form is vibrant with it when he flattens himself +against a tree-trunk, toes and tail quivering with intensity of ridicule +as fully expressed in every motion as in his nasal snicker and throaty +chuckle or in the chattering jeer that he pours down when he has +attained a midway or topmost bough and cocks his tail with a saucy curve +above his arched back. + +When he persistently retires within his wooden tower, he still peers out +saucily from his lofty portal, and if he disappears you may yet hear the +smothered chuckle wherewith he continues to tickle his ribs. When in a +less scornful mood, he is at least supremely indifferent, deigning to +regard you with but the corner of an eye, while he rasps a nut or chips +a cone. + +Ordinarily you must be philosophical or godly to suffer gibes with +equanimity, but you need be neither to endure the scoffs of this buffoon +of the woods and waysides. They only amuse you as they do him, and you +could forgive these tricks tenfold multiplied if he had no worse, and +love him if he were but half as good as he is beautiful. + +He exasperates when he cuts off your half-grown apples and pears in +sheer wantonness, injuring you and profiting himself only in the +pleasure of seeing and hearing them fall. But you are heated with a +hotter wrath when he reveals his chief wickedness, and you catch sight +of him stealthily skulking along the leafy by-paths of the branches, +silently intent on evil deeds and plotting the murder of callow +innocents. Quite noiseless now, himself, his whereabouts are only +indicated by the distressful outcry of the persecuted and sympathizing +birds and the fluttering swoops of their futile attacks upon the +marauder. Then when you see him gliding away, swift and silent as a +shadow, bearing a half-naked fledgeling in his jaws, if this is the +first revelation of such wickedness, you are as painfully surprised as +if you had discovered a little child in some wanton act of cruelty. + +It seems quite out of all fitness of nature that this merry fellow +should turn murderer, that this dainty connoisseur of choice nuts and +tender buds, and earliest discoverer and taster of the maple's +sweetness, should become so grossly carnivorous and savagely +bloodthirsty. But anon he will cajole you with pretty ways into +forgetfulness and forgiveness of his crimes. You find yourself offering, +in extenuation of his sins, confession of your own offenses. Have not +you, too, wrought havoc among harmless broods and brought sorrow to +feathered mothers and woodland homes? Is he worse than you, or are you +better than he? Against his sins you set his beauty and tricksy manners, +and for them would not banish him out of the world nor miss the +incomparable touch of wild life that his presence gives it. + + + + +XXXVIII + +THE RUFFED GROUSE + + +The woods in the older parts of our country possess scarcely a trait of +the primeval forest. The oldest trees have a comparatively youthful +appearance, and are pygmies in girth beside the decaying stumps of their +giant ancestors. They are not so shagged with moss nor so scaled with +lichens. The forest floor has lost its ancient carpet of ankle-deep moss +and the intricate maze of fallen trees in every stage of decay, and +looks clean-swept and bare. The tangle of undergrowth is gone, many of +the species which composed it having quite disappeared, as have many of +the animals that flourished in the perennial shade of the old woods. + +If in their season one sees and hears more birds among their lower +interlaced branches, he is not likely to catch sight or sound of many of +the denizens of the old wilderness. No startled deer bounds away before +him, nor bear shuffles awkwardly from his feast of mast at one's +approach, nor does one's flesh creep at the howl of the gathering wolves +or the panther's scream or the rustle of his stealthy footsteps. + +But as you saunter on your devious way you may hear a rustle of quick +feet in the dry leaves and a sharp, insistent cry, a succession of +short, high-pitched clucks running into and again out of a querulous +"_ker-r-r-r_," all expressing warning as much as alarm. Your ears guide +your eyes to the exact point from which the sounds apparently come, but +if these are not keen and well trained they fail to detach any animate +form from the inanimate dun and gray of dead leaves and underbrush. + +With startling suddenness out of the monotony of lifeless color in an +eddying flurry of dead leaves, fanned to erratic flight by his +wing-beats, the ruffed grouse bursts into view, in full flight with the +first strokes of his thundering pinions, and you have a brief vision of +untamed nature as it was in the old days. On either side of the +vanishing brown nebula the ancient mossed and lichened trunks rear +themselves again, above it their lofty ramage veils the sky, beneath it +lie the deep, noiseless cushion of moss, the shrubs and plants that the +old wood rangers knew and the moose browsed on, and the tangled trunks +of fallen trees. You almost fancy that you hear the long-ago silenced +voices of the woods, so vividly does this wild spirit for an instant +conjure up a vision of the old wild world whereof he is a survival. + +Acquaintance with civilized man has not tamed him, but has made him the +wilder. He deigns to feed upon apple-tree buds and buckwheat and +woodside clover, not as a gift, but a begrudged compensation for what +you have taken from him, and gives you therefor not even the thanks of +familiarity; and notwithstanding his acquaintance with generations of +your race he will not suffer you to come so near to him as he would your +grandfather. + +If, when the leaves are falling, you find him in your barnyard, garden, +or out-house, or on the porch, do not think he has any intention of +associating with you or your plebeian poultry. You can only wonder where +he found refuge from the painted shower when all his world was wooded. +If he invites your attendance at his drum solo, it is only to fool you +with the sight of an empty stage, for you must be as stealthy and +keen-eyed as a lynx to see his proud display of distended ruff and wide +spread of barred tail and accelerated beat of wings that mimic thunder, +or see even the leafy curtain of his stage flutter in the wind of his +swift exit. + +How the definite recognition of his motionless form evades you, so +perfectly are his colors merged into those of his environment, whether +it be in the flush greenness of summer, the painted hues of autumn or +its later faded dun and gray, or in the whiteness of winter. Among one +or the other he is but a clot of dead leaves, a knot upon a branch, the +gray stump of a sapling protruding from the snow, or, covered deep in +the unmarked whiteness, he bursts from it like a mine exploded at your +feet, leaving you agape till he has vanished from your sight and your +ears have caught the last flick of his wings against the dry branches. + +In May, his mate sits on her nest, indistinguishable among the brown +leaves and gray branches about her. Later, when surprised with her +brood, how conspicuous she makes herself, fluttering and staggering +along the ground, while her callow chicks, old in cunning though so +lately their eyes first beheld the world, scatter in every direction +like a shattered globule of quicksilver and magically disappear where +there is no apparent hiding-place. Did they con the first lesson of +safety in the dark chamber of the egg, or absorb it with the warmth of +the brooding breast that gave them life? + +Listen, and out of the silence which follows the noisy dispersion of the +family hear the low sibilant voice of the mother calling her children to +her or cautioning them to continued hiding. Perhaps you may see her, +alertly skulking among the underbrush, still uttering that tender, +persuasive cry, so faint that the chirp of a cricket might overbear it. +Scatter her brood when the members are half grown and almost as strong +of wing as herself, and you presently hear her softly calling them and +assuring them of her continued care. + +Among many things that mark the changing season, is the dispersion of +this wildwood family. Each member is now shifting for itself in matters +of seeking food, safety, pleasure, and comfort. You will come upon one +in the ferny undergrowth of the lowland woods where he is consorting +with woodcock, frighten another from his feast on the fence-side +elderberries, scare one in the thick shadows of the evergreens, another +on the sparsely wooded steep of a rocky hillside, and later hear the +drum-beat of a young cock that the soft Indian summer has fooled into +springtime love-making, and each has the alertness that complete +self-dependence has enforced. + +Still, you may come upon them gathered in social groups, yet each going +his own way when flushed. Upon rare occasions you may surprise a grand +convention of all the grouse of the region congregated on the sunny lee +of a hillside. It is a sight and sound to remember long, though for the +moment you forget the gun in your hands, when by ones, twos, and dozens +the dusky forms burst away up wind, down wind, across wind, signalling +their departure with volleys of intermittent and continuous thunder. Not +many times in your life will you see this, yet, if but once, you will be +thankful that you have not outlived all the old world's wildness. + + + + +XXXIX + +TWO SHOTS + + +A boy of fourteen, alert, but too full of life to move slowly and +cautiously, is walking along an old road in the woods, a road that winds +here and there with meanderings that now seem vagrant and purposeless +but once led to the various piles of cordwood and logs for whose +harvesting it was hewn. Goodly trees have since grown up from saplings +that the judicious axe then scorned. Beeches, whose flat branches are +shelves of old gold; poplars, turned to towers of brighter metal by the +same alchemy of autumn; and hemlocks, pyramids of unchanging green, +shadow the leaf-strewn forest floor and its inconspicuous dotting of +gray and russet stumps. How happy the boy is in the freedom of the +woods; proud to carry his first own gun, as he treads gingerly but +somewhat noisily over the fallen leaves and dry twigs, scanning with +quick glances the thickets, imagining himself the last Mohican on the +warpath, or Leather-Stocking scouting in the primeval wilderness. + +Under his breath he tells the confiding chickadees and woodpeckers what +undreamed-of danger they would be in from such a brave, were he not in +pursuit of nobler game. Then he hears a sudden rustle of the dry leaves, +the _quit! quit!_ of a partridge, catches a glimpse of a rapidly running +brown object, which on the instant is launched into a flashing +thunderous flight. Impelled by the instinct of the born sportsman, he +throws the gun to his shoulder, and scarcely with aim, but in the +direction of the sound, pulls trigger and fires. + +On the instant he is ashamed of his impulsive haste, which fooled him +into wasting a precious charge on the inanimate evergreen twigs and sere +leaves that come dropping and floating down to his shot, and is thankful +that he is the only witness of his own foolishness. + +But what is that? Above the patter and rustle of falling twigs and +leaves comes a dull thud, followed by the rapid beat of wings upon the +leaf-strewn earth. With heart beating as fast he runs toward the sound, +afraid to believe his senses, when he sees a noble grouse fluttering out +feebly his last gasp. He cannot be sure that it is not all a dream that +may vanish in a breath, till he has the bird safe in his hand, and then +he is faint with joy. Was there ever such a shot? Would that all the +world were here to see, for who can believe it just for the telling? +There never will be another such a bird, nor such a shot, for him. He +fires a dozen ineffectual ones at fair marks that day, but the glory of +that one shot would atone for twice as many misses, and he need not tell +of them, only of this, whereof he bears actual proof, though he himself +can hardly accept it, till again and again he tests it by admiring look +and touch. + +Years after the killing of grouse on the wing has become a +matter-of-course occurrence in his days of upland shooting, the memory +of this stands clearest and best. Sixty years later the old wood road +winds through the same scene, by some marvel of kindliness or +oversight, untouched by the devastating axe, unchanged but by the forest +growth of half a century and its seemly and decorous decay. A thicker +screen of undergrowth borders the more faintly traced way. The +golden-brown shelves of the beech branches sweep more broadly above it, +the spires of the evergreens are nearer the sky, and the yellow towers +of the poplars are builded higher, but they are the same trees and +beneath them may yet be seen the gray stumps and trunks mouldered to +russet lines, of their ancient brethren who fell when these were +saplings. + +The gray-bearded man who comes along the old wood road wonders at the +little change so many years have made in the scene of the grand +achievements of his youth, and in his mind he runs over the long +calendar to assure himself that so many autumns have glowed and faded +since that happy day. How can he have grown old, his ear dull to the +voices of the woods, his sight dim with the slowly but surely falling +veil of coming blindness, so that even now the road winds into a misty +haze just before him, yet these trees be young and lusty? + +As they and the unfaded page of memory record the years, it was but a +little while ago that his heart was almost bursting with pride of that +first triumph. Would that he might once more feel that delicious pang of +joy. + +Hark! There is the _quit! quit!_ of a grouse, and there another and +another, and the patter and rustle of their retreating footsteps, +presently launching into sudden flight, vaguely seen in swift bolts of +gray, hurtling among gray tree trunks and variegated foliage. True to +the old instinct his gun leaps to his shoulder, and he fires again and +again at the swift target. But the quick eye no longer guides the aim, +the timely finger no longer pulls the trigger, and the useless pellets +waste themselves on the leaves and twigs. + +The woods are full of grouse, as if all the birds of the region had +congregated here to mock his failing sight and skill. On every side they +burst away from him like rockets, and his quick but futile charges in +rapid succession are poured in their direction, yet not a bird falls, +nor even a feather wavers down through the still October air. His dim +eyes refuse to mark down the birds that alight nearest; he can only +vaguely follow their flight by the whirring rush of wings and the click +of intercepting branches. + +He is not ashamed of his loss of skill, only grieved to know that his +shooting days are over, yet he is glad there is no one near to see his +failure. He makes renunciation of all title to the name of a crack shot, +too well knowing that this is no brief lapse of skill, but the final, +inevitable falling off of the quick eye and sure hand. Slowly and sadly +he makes his way to where the shaded path merges into the sunny +clearing. There, from the cover of the last bush, a laggard bird springs +as if thrown from a catapult, describing in his flight an arc of a great +circle, and clearly defined against the steel-blue sky. + +Again the gun springs instinctively to the shoulder, the instantaneous +aim is taken well ahead on the line of flight, the trigger pressed in +the nick of time, the charge explodes, and out of a cloud of feathers +drifting and whirling in the eddies of his own wing-beats, the noble +bird sweeps downward in the continuation of the course that ends with a +dull thud on the pasture sward. + +The old sportsman lifts his clean-killed bird without a thrill of +exultation--he is only devoutly thankful for the happy circumstance +which made successful the last shot he will ever fire, and that not as a +miss he may remember it. Henceforth untouched by him his gun shall hang +upon the wall, its last use linked with the pleasant memory of his last +shot. + + + + +XL + +NOVEMBER DAYS + + +In a midsummer sleep one dreams of winter, its cold, its silence and +desolation all surrounding him; then awakes, glad to find himself in the +reality of the light and warmth of summer. + +Were we dreaming yesterday of woods more gorgeous in their leafage than +a flower garden in the flush of profusest bloom, so bright with +innumerable tints that autumnal blossoms paled beside them as stars at +sunrise? Were we dreaming of air soft as in springtime, of the gentle +babble of brooks, the carol of bluebirds, the lazy chirp of crickets, +and have we suddenly awakened to be confronted by the desolation of +naked forests, the more forlorn for the few tattered remnants of gay +apparel that flutter in the bleak wind? To hear but the sullen roar of +the chill blast and the clash of stripped boughs, the fitful scurry of +wind-swept leaves and the raving of swollen streams, swelling and +falling as in changing stress of passion, and the heavy leaden patter of +rain on roof and sodden leaves and earth? + +Verily, the swift transition is like a pleasant dream with an unhappy +awakening. Yet not all November days are dreary. Now the sun shines warm +from the steel-blue sky, its eager rays devour the rime close on the +heels of the retreating shadows, and the north wind sleeps. The voice of +the brimming stream falls to an even, softer cadence, like the murmur of +pine forests swept by the light touch of a steady breeze. + +Then the wind breathes softly from the south, and there drifts with it +from warmer realms, or arises at its touch from the earth about us, or +falls from the atmosphere of heaven itself, not smoke, nor haze, but +something more ethereal than these: a visible air, balmy with odors of +ripeness as the breath of June with perfume of flowers. It pervades +earth and sky, which melt together in it, till the bounds of neither are +discernible, and blends all objects in the landscape beyond the near +foreground, till nothing is distinct but some golden gleam of sunlit +water, bright as the orb that shines upon it. Flocks of migrating geese +linger on the stubble fields, and some laggard crows flap lazily athwart +the sky or perch contentedly upon the naked treetops as if they cared to +seek no clime more genial. The brief heavenly beauteousness of Indian +summer has fallen upon the earth, a few tranquil days of ethereal +mildness dropped into the sullen or turbulent border of winter. + +In November days, as in all others, the woods are beautiful to the lover +of nature and to the sportsman who in their love finds the finer flavor +of his pastime. Every marking of the gray trunks, each moss-patch and +scale of lichen on them, is shown more distinctly now in the intercepted +light, and the delicate tracery of the bare branches and their netted +shadows on the rumpled carpet of the forest floor, have a beauty as +distinctive as the fullness of green or frost-tinted leafage and its +silhouette of shade. + +No blossom is left in woods or fields, save where in the one the +witch-hazel unfolds its unseasonable flowers yellow beneath cold skies, +or a pink blossom of herb-robert holds out with modest bravery in a +sheltered cranny of the rocks; and where in the other, the ghostly bloom +of everlasting rustles above the leafless stalks in the wind-swept +pastures. There are brighter flashes of color in the sombre woods where +the red winter-berries shine on their leafless stems and the orange and +scarlet clusters of the twining bitter-sweet light up the gray trellis +of the vagrant climber. + +No sense of loss or sadness oppresses the soul of the ardent sportsman +as he ranges the unroofed aisles alert for the wary grouse, the skulking +woodcock, full-grown and strong of wing and keen-eyed for every enemy, +or the hare flashing his half-donned winter coat among the gray +underbrush as he bounds away before the merry chiding of the beagles. +The brown monotony of the marshes is pleasant to him as green fields, +while the wild duck tarries in the dark pools and the snipe probes the +unfrozen patches of ooze. To him all seasons are kind, all days +pleasant, wherein he may pursue his sport, though the rain pelt him, +chill winds assail him, or the summer sun shower upon him its most +fervent rays, and in these changeful days of November he finds his full +measure of content. + + + + +XLI + +THE MUSKRAT + + +A little turning of nature from her own courses banishes the beaver from +his primal haunts, but his less renowned and lesser cousin, the muskrat, +philosophically accommodates himself to the changed conditions of their +common foster mother and still clings fondly to her altered breast. + +The ancient forests may be swept away and their successors disappear, +till there is scarcely left him a watersoaked log to use as an +intermediate port in his coastwise voyages; continual shadow may give +place to diurnal sunshine, woodland to meadow and pasture, the plough +tear the roof of his underground home, and cattle graze where once only +the cloven hoofs of the deer and the moose trod the virgin mould, yet he +holds his old place. + +In the springtides of present years as in those of centuries past his +whining call echoes along the changed shores, his wake seams with +silver the dark garment of the water, and his comically grim visage +confronts you now as it did the Waubanakee bowmen in the old days when +the otter and the beaver were his familiars. + +Unlike the beaver's slowly maturing crops, his food supply is constantly +provided in the annual growth of the marshes. Here in banks contiguous +to endless store of succulent sedge and lily roots and shell-cased +tidbits of mussels, he tunnels his stable water-portaled home, and out +there, by the channel's edge, builds his sedge-thatched hut before the +earliest frost falls upon the marshes. In its height, some find prophecy +of high or low water, and in the thickness of its walls the forecast of +a mild or severe winter, but the prophet himself is sometimes flooded +out of his house, sometimes starved and frozen in it. + +In the still, sunny days between the nights of its unseen building, the +blue spikes of the pickerel-weed and the white trinities of the +arrow-head yet bloom beside it. Then in the golden and scarlet +brightness of autumn the departing wood drake rests on the roof to preen +his plumage, and later the dusky duck swims on its watery lawn. Above it +the wild geese harrow the low, cold arch of the sky, the last fleet of +sere leaves drifts past it in the bleak wind, and then ice and snow draw +the veil of the long winter twilight over the muskrat's homes and +haunts. + +These may be gloomy days he spends groping in the dark chambers of his +hut and burrow, or gathering food in the dimly lighted icy water, with +never a sight of the upper world nor ever a sunbeam to warm him. + +But there are more woful days when the sun and the sky are again opened +to him, and he breathes the warm air of spring, hears the blackbirds +sing and the bittern boom. For, amid all the gladness of nature's +reawakened life, danger lurks in all his paths; the cruel, hungry trap +gapes for him on every jutting log, on every feeding-bed, even in the +doorway of his burrow and by the side of his house. + +The trapper's skiff invades all his pleasant waters; on every hand he +hears the splash of its paddles, the clank of its setting pole, and he +can scarcely show his head above water but a deadly shower of lead +bursts upon it. He hears the simulated call of his beloved, and voyaging +hot-hearted to the cheating tryst meets only death. + +At last comes the summer truce and happy days of peace in the tangled +jungle of the marsh, with the wild duck and bittern nesting beside his +watery path, the marsh wren weaving her rushy bower above it. + +So the days of his life go on, and the days of his race continue in the +land of his unnumbered generations. Long may he endure to enliven the +drear tameness of civilization with a memory of the world's old +wildness. + + + + +XLII + +NOVEMBER VOICES + + +With flowers and leaves, the bird songs have faded out, and the hum and +chirp of insect life, the low and bleat of herds and flocks afield, and +the busy sounds of husbandry have grown infrequent. There are lapses of +such silence that the ear aches for some audible signal of life; and +then to appease it there comes with the rising breeze the solemn murmur +of the pines like the song of the sea on distant shores, the sibilant +whisper of the dead herbage, the clatter of dry pods, and the fitful +stir of fallen leaves, like a scurry of ghostly feet fleeing in affright +at the sound of their own passage. + +The breeze puffs itself into a fury of wind, and the writhing branches +shriek and moan and clash as if the lances of phantom armies were +crossed in wild melee. + +The woods are full of unlipped voices speaking one with another in +pleading, in anger, in soft tones of endearment; and one hears his name +called so distinctly that he answers and calls again, but no answer is +vouchsafed him, only moans and shrieks and mocking laughter, till one +has enough of wild voices and longs for a relapse of silence. + +More softly it is broken when through the still air comes the cheery +note of the chickadee and the little trumpet of his comrade the nuthatch +and far away the muffled beat of the grouse's drum, or from a distance +the mellow baying of a hound and its answering echoes, swelling and +dying on hilltop or glen, or mingling in melodious confusion. + +From skyward comes the clangor of clarions, wild and musical, +proclaiming the march of gray cohorts of geese advancing southward +through the hills and dales of cloudland. There come, too, the quick +whistling beat of wild ducks' pinions, the cry of a belated plover, and +the creaking voice of a snipe. Then the bawling of a ploughman in a +far-off field--and farther away the rumble and shriek of a railroad +train--brings the listening ear to earth again and its plodding busy +life. + + + + +XLIII + +THANKSGIVING + + +Doubtless many a sportsman has bethought him that his Thanksgiving +turkey will have a finer flavor if the feast is prefaced by a few hours +in the woods, with dog and gun. Meaner fare than this day of bounty +furnishes forth is made delicious by such an appetizer, and the +Thanksgiving feast will be none the worse for it. + +What can be sweeter than the wholesome fragrance of the fallen leaves? +What more invigorating than the breath of the two seasons that we catch: +here in the northward shade of a wooded hill the nipping air of winter, +there where the southern slope meets the sun the genial warmth of an +October day. Here one's footsteps crunch sharply the frozen herbage and +the ice-bearded border of a spring's overflow; there splash in thawed +pools and rustle softly among the dead leaves. + +The flowers are gone, but they were not brighter than the winter berries +and bittersweet that glow around one. The deciduous leaves are fallen +and withered, but they were not more beautiful than the delicate tracery +of their forsaken branches, and the steadfast foliage of the evergreens +was never brighter. The song-birds are singing in southern woods, but +chickadee, nuthatch, and woodpecker are chatty and companionable and +keep the woods in heart with a stir of life. + +Then from overhead or underfoot a ruffed grouse booms away into the gray +haze of branches, and one hears the whirr and crash of his headlong +flight long after he is lost to sight, perchance long after the echo of +a futile shot has died away. Far off one hears the intermittent +discharge of rifles where the shooters are burning powder for their +Thanksgiving turkey, and faintly from far away comes the melancholy +music of a hound. Then nearer and clearer, then a rustle of velvet-clad +feet, and lo, reynard himself, the wildest spirit of the woods, +materializes out of the russet indistinctness and flashes past, with +every sense alert. Then the hound goes by, and footstep, voice, and echo +sink into silence. For silence it is, though the silver tinkle of the +brook is in it, and the stir of the last leaf shivering forsaken on its +bough. + +In such quietude one may hold heartfelt thanksgiving, feasting full upon +a crust and a draught from the icy rivulet, and leave rich viands and +costly wines for the thankless surfeiting of poorer men. + + + + +XLIV + +DECEMBER DAYS + + +Fewer and more chill have become the hours of sunlight, and longer +stretch the noontide shadows of the desolate trees athwart the tawny +fields and the dead leaves that mat the floor of the woods. + +The brook braids its shrunken strands of brown water with a hushed +murmur over a bed of sodden leaves between borders of spiny ice +crystals, or in the pools swirl in slow circles the imprisoned fleets of +bubbles beneath a steadfast roof of glass. Dark and sullen the river +sulks its cheerless way, enlivened but by the sheldrake that still +courses his prey in the icy water, and the mink that like a fleet black +shadow steals along the silent banks. Gaudy wood duck and swift-winged +teal have long since departed and left stream and shore to these +marauders and to the trapper, who now gathers here his latest harvest. + +The marshes are silent and make no sign of life, though beneath the +domes of many a sedge-built roof the unseen muskrats are astir, and +under the icy cover of the channels fare to and fro on their affairs of +life, undisturbed by any turmoil of the upper world. + +When the winds are asleep the lake bears on its placid breast the +moveless images of its quiet shores, deserted now by the latest pleasure +seekers among whose tenantless camps the wild wood-folk wander as +fearlessly as if the foot of man had never trodden here. From the still +midwaters far away a loon halloos to the winds to come forth from their +caves, and yells out his mad laughter in anticipation of the coming +storm. A herald breeze blackens the water with its advancing steps, and +with a roar of its trumpets the angry wind sweeps down, driving the +white-crested ranks of waves to assault the shores. Far up the long +incline of pebbly beaches they rush, and leaping up the walls of rock +hang fetters of ice upon the writhing trees. Out of the seething waters +arise lofty columns of vapor, which like a host of gigantic phantoms +stalk, silent and majestic, above the turmoil, till they fall in +wind-tossed showers of frost flakes. + +There are days when almost complete silence possesses the woods, yet +listening intently one may hear the continual movement of myriads of +snow fleas pattering on the fallen leaves like the soft purr of such +showers as one might imagine would fall in Lilliput. + +With footfall so light that he is seen close at hand sooner than heard, +a hare limps past; too early clad in his white fur that shall make him +inconspicuous amid the winter snow, his coming shines from afar through +the gray underbrush and on the tawny leaves. Unseen amid his dun and +gray environment, the ruffed grouse skulks unheard, till he bursts away +in thunderous flight. Overhead, invisible in the lofty thicket of a +hemlock's foliage, a squirrel drops a slow patter of cone chips, while +undisturbed a nuthatch winds his spiral way down the smooth trunk. Faint +and far away, yet clear, resound the axe strokes of a chopper, and at +intervals the muffled roar of a tree's downfall. + +Silent and moveless cascades of ice veil the rocky steeps where in more +genial days tiny rivulets dripped down the ledges and mingled their +musical tinkle with the songs of birds and the flutter of green leaves. + +Winter berries and bittersweet still give here and there a fleck of +bright color to the universal gray and dun of the trees, and the carpet +of cast-off leaves and the dull hue of the evergreens but scarcely +relieve the sombreness of the woodland landscape. + +Spanning forest and field with a low flat arch of even gray, hangs a sky +as cold as the landscape it domes and whose mountain borders lie hidden +in its hazy foundations. Through this canopy of suspended snow the low +noontide sun shows but a blotch of yellowish gray, rayless and giving +forth no warmth, and, as it slants toward its brief decline, grows yet +dimmer till it is quite blotted out in the gloom of the half-spent +afternoon. + +The expectant hush that broods over the forlorn and naked earth is +broken only by the twitter of a flock of snow buntings which, like a +straight-blown flurry of flakes, drift across the fields, and, sounding +solemnly from the depths of the woods, the hollow hoot of a great owl. +Then the first flakes come wavering down, then blurring all the +landscape into vague unreality they fall faster, with a soft purr on +frozen grass and leaves till it becomes unheard on the thickening +noiseless mantle of snow. Deeper and deeper the snow infolds the earth, +covering all its unsightliness of death and desolation. + +Now white-furred hare and white-feathered bunting are at one with the +white-clad world wherein they move, and we, so lately accustomed to the +greenness of summer and the gorgeousness of autumn, wondering at the +ease wherewith we accept this marvel of transformation, welcome these +white December days and in them still find content. + + + + +XLV + +WINTER VOICES + + +Out of her sleep nature yet gives forth voices betokening that life +abides beneath the semblance of death, that her warm heart still beats +under the white shroud that infolds her rigid breast. + +A smothered tinkle as of muffled bells comes up from the streams through +their double roofing of snow and ice, and the frozen pulse of the trees +complains of its thralldom with a resonant twang as of a strained cord +snapped asunder. + +Beneath their frozen plains, the lakes bewail their imprisonment with +hollow moans awakening a wild and mournful chorus of echoes from +sleeping shores that answer now no caress of ripples nor angry stroke of +waves nor dip and splash of oar and paddle. + +The breeze stirs leafless trees and shaggy evergreens to a murmur that +is sweet, if sadder than they gave it in the leafy days of summer, when +it bore the perfume of flowers and the odor of green fields, and one may +imagine the spirit of springtime and summer lingers among the naked +boughs, voicing memory and hope. + +Amid all the desolation of their woodland haunts the squirrels chatter +their delight in windless days of sunshine, and scoff at biting cold and +wintry blasts. The nuthatch winds his tiny trumpet, the titmouse pipes +his cheery note, the jay tries the innumerable tricks of his unmusical +voice, and from their rollicking flight athwart the wavering slant of +snowflakes drifts the creaking twitter of buntings. + +The sharp, resonant strokes of the woodman's axe and the groaning +downfall of the monarchs that it lays low, the shouts of teamsters, the +occasional report of a gun, the various sounds of distant farmstead +life, the jangle of sleigh bells on far-off highways, the rumbling roar +of a railroad train rushing and panting along its iron path, and the +bellowing of its far-echoed signals, all proclaim how busily affairs of +life and pleasure still go on while the summer-wearied earth lies +wrapped in her winter sleep. + +Night, stealing upon her in dusky pallor, under cloudy skies, or +silvering her face with moonbeams and starlight, brings other and wilder +voices. Solemnly the unearthly trumpet of the owl resounds from his +woodland hermitage, the fox's gasping bark, wild and uncanny, marks at +intervals his wayward course across the frozen fields on some errand of +love or freebooting, and, swelling and falling with puff and lapse of +the night wind, as mournful and lonesome as the voice of a vagrant +spirit, comes from the mountain ridges the baying of a hound, hunting +alone and unheeded, while his master basks in the comfort of his +fireside. + + + + +XLVI + +THE VARYING HARE + + +It is wonderful that with such a host of enemies to maintain himself +against, the varying hare may still be counted as one of our familiar +acquaintances. Except in the depths of the great wildernesses, he has no +longer to fear the wolf, the wolverine, the panther, and the lesser +_felidae_, but where the younger woodlands have become his congenial +home, they are also the home of a multitude of relentless enemies. The +hawk, whose keen eyes pierce the leafy roof of the woods, wheels above +him as he crouches in his form. When he goes abroad under the moon and +stars, the terrible shadow of the horned owl falls upon his path, and +the fox lurks beside it to waylay him, and the clumsy raccoon, waddling +home from a cornfield revel, may blunder upon the timid wayfarer. + +But of all his enemies none is more inveterate than man, though he is +not, as are the others, impelled by necessity, but only by that +savagery, the survival of barbarism, which we dignify by the name of the +sporting instinct. + +Against them all, how slight seem the defenses of such a weak and timid +creature. Yet impartial nature, having compassed him about with foes, +has shod his feet with swiftness and silence, and clad his body with an +almost invisible garment. The vagrant zephyrs touch the fallen leaves +more noisily than his soft pads press them. The first snow that whitens +the fading gorgeousness of the forest carpet falls scarcely more +silently. + +Among the tender greens of early summer and the darker verdure of +midsummer, the hare's brown form is as inconspicuous as a tuft of last +year's leaves, and set in the brilliancy of autumnal tints, or the +russet hue of their decay, it still eludes the eye. Then winter clothes +him in her own whiteness so he may sit unseen upon her lap. + +When he has donned his winter suit too early and his white coat is +dangerously conspicuous on the brown leaves and among the misty gray of +naked undergrowth, he permits your near approach as confidently as if he +were of a color with his surroundings. Is he not aware that his spotless +raiment betrays him, or does he trust that he may be mistaken for a +white stone or a scroll of bark sloughed from a white birch? That would +hardly save him from the keener-sensed birds and beasts of prey, but may +fool your dull eyes. + +In summer wanderings in the woods you rarely catch sight of him, though +coming upon many faintly traced paths where he and his wife and their +brown babies make their nightly way among the ferns. Nor are you often +favored with a sight of him in more frequent autumnal tramps, unless +when he is fleeing before the hounds whose voices guide you to a point +of observation. He has now no eyes nor ears for anything but the +terrible clamor that pursues him wherever he turns, however he doubles. +If a shot brings him down and does not kill him, you will hear a cry so +piteous that it will spoil your pleasant dreams of sport for many a +night. + +After a snowfall a single hare will in one night make such a multitude +of tracks as will persuade you that a dozen have been abroad. Perhaps +the trail is so intricately tangled with a purpose of misleading +pursuit, perhaps it is but the record of saunterings as idle as your +own. + +As thus you wander through the pearl-enameled arches, your roving +glances are arrested by a rounded form which, as white and motionless as +everything around it, yet seems in some way not so lifeless. You note +that the broad footprints end there, and then become aware of two wide, +bright eyes, unblinkingly regarding you from the fluffy tuft of +whiteness. How perfectly assured he is of his invisibility, and if he +had but closed his bright eyes you might not guess that he was anything +but a snow-covered clump of moss. How still and breathless he sits till +you almost touch him, and then the white clod suddenly flashes into life +and impetuous motion, bounding away in a halo of feathery flakes as if +he himself were dissolving into white vapor. + +Happy he, if he might so elude all foes; but alas for him, if the +swift-winged owl had been as close above him or the agile fox within +leap. Then instead of this glimpse of beautiful wild life to treasure in +your memory, you would only have read the story of a brief tragedy, +briefly written, with a smirch of blood and a tuft of rumpled fur. + + + + +XLVII + +THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE + + +The chief requisite of a winter camp-fire is volume. The feeble flame +and meagre bed of embers that are a hot discomfort to the summer camper, +while he hovers over coffee-pot and frying-pan, would be no more than +the glow of a candle toward tempering this nipping air. This fire must +be no dainty nibbler of chips and twigs that a boy's hatchet may +furnish, but a roaring devourer of logs, for whose carving the axe must +be long and stoutly wielded--a very glutton of solid fuel, continually +demanding more and licking with its broad red tongues at the branches +that sway and toss high above in its hot breath. + +So fierce is it that you approach cautiously to feed it and the snow +shrinks away from it and can quench of it only the tiny sparks that are +spit out upon it. You must not be too familiar with it, yet it is your +friend after its own manner, fighting away for you the creeping demon of +cold, and holding at bay, on the rim of its glare, the wolf and the +panther. + +With its friendly offices are mingled many elfish tricks. It boils your +pot just to the point you wish, then boils it over and licks up the +fragrant brew of celestial leaf or Javanese berry. It roasts or broils +your meat to a turn, then battles with you for it and sears your fingers +when you strive to snatch the morsel from its jaws, and perhaps burns it +to a crisp before your very eyes, vouchsafing but the tantalizing +fragrance of the feast. + +Then it may fall into the friendliest and most companionable of moods, +lazily burning its great billets of ancient wood while you burn the +Virginian weed, singing to you songs of summer, its tongues of flame +murmuring like the south wind among green leaves, and mimicking the +chirp of the crickets and the cicada's cry in the simmer of exuding sap +and vent of gas, and out of its smoke blossom sparks, that drift away +in its own currents like red petals of spent flowers. + +It paints pictures, some weird or grotesque, some beautiful, now of +ghosts and goblins, now of old men, now of fair women, now of lakes +crinkled with golden waves and towers on pine-crowned crags ruddy with +the glow of sunset, sunny meadows and pasture lands, with farmsteads and +flocks and herds. + +The ancient trees that rear themselves aloft like strong pillars set to +hold up the narrow arch of darkness, exhale an atmosphere of the past, +in which your thoughts, waking or sleeping, drift backward to the old +days when men whose dust was long since mingled with the forest mould +moved here in the rage of war and the ardor of the chase. Shadowy forms +of dusky warriors, horribly marked in war paint, gather about the +camp-fire and sit in its glare in voiceless council, or encircle it in +the grotesquely terrible movement of the war dance. + +Magically the warlike scene changes to one of peace. The red hunters +steal silently in with burdens of game. The squaws sit in the ruddy +light plying their various labors, while their impish children play +around them in mimicry of battle and the chase. + +All then vanish, and white-clad soldiers of France bivouac in their +place--or red-coated Britons, or Provincial rangers, unsoldierly to look +upon, in home-spun garb, but keen-eyed, alert, and the bravest of the +brave. + +These dissolve like wreaths of smoke, and a solitary white hunter, +clothed all in buckskin, sits over against you. His long flint-lock +rifle lying across his lap, he is looking with rapt gaze into the fire, +dreaming as you are. + +So, growing brighter as the daylight grows dim and the gloaming thickens +to the mirk, and paling again as daylight creeps slowly back upon the +world, but always bright in the diurnal twilight of the woods, the +camp-fire weaves and breaks its magic spells, now leaping, now lapsing, +as its own freaks move it. Then, perhaps, when it has charmed you far +across the border of dreamland and locked your eyes in the blindness of +sleep, it will startle you back to the cold reality of the wintry woods +with a crash and roar of sudden revival. + + + + +XLVIII + +JANUARY DAYS + + +In these midwinter days, how muffled is the earth in its immaculate +raiment, so disguised in whiteness that familiar places are strange, +rough hollows smoothed to mere undulations, deceitful to the eye and +feet, and level fields so piled with heaps and ridges that their owners +scarcely recognize them. The hovel is as regally roofed as the palace, +the rudest fence is a hedge of pearl, finer than a wall of marble, and +the meanest wayside weed is a white flower of fairyland. + +The woods, which frost and November winds stripped of their leafy +thatch, are roofed again, now with an arabesque of alabaster more +delicate than the green canopy that summer unfolded, and all the floor +is set in noiseless pavement, traced with a shifting pattern of blue +shadows. In these silent aisles the echoes are smothered at their +birth. There is no response of airy voices to the faint call of the +winter birds. The sound of the axe-stroke flies no farther than the +pungent fragrance of the smoke that drifts in a blue haze from the +chopper's fire. The report of the gun awakes no answering report, and +each mellow note of the hound comes separate to the ear, with no jangle +of reverberations. + +Fox and hound wallow through the snow a crumbling furrow that +obliterates identity of either trail, yet there are tracks that tell as +plain as written words who made them. Here have fallen, lightly as +snowflakes, the broad pads of the hare, white as the snow he trod; +there, the parallel tracks of another winter masker, the weasel, and +those of the squirrel, linking tree to tree. The leaps of a tiny +wood-mouse are lightly marked upon the feathery surface to where there +is the imprint of a light, swift pinion on either side, and the little +story of his wandering ends--one crimson blood drop the period that +marks the finis. + +In the blue shadow at the bottom of that winding furrow are the dainty +footprints of a grouse, and you wonder why he, so strong of wing, +should choose to wade laboriously the clogging snow even in his briefest +trip, rather than make his easy way through the unresisting air, and the +snow-written record of his wayward wanderings tells not why. Suddenly, +as if a mine had been sprung where your next footstep should fall and +with almost as startling, though harmless effect, another of his wild +tribe bursts upward through the unmarked white floor and goes whirring +and clattering away, scattering in powdery ruin the maze of delicate +tracery the snowfall wrought; and vanishes, leaving only an aerial +pathway of naked twigs to mark his impetuous passage. + +In the twilight of an evergreen thicket sits a great horned owl like a +hermit in his cell in pious contemplation of his own holiness and the +world's wickedness. But this recluse hates not sin, only daylight and +mankind. Out in the fields you may find the white-robed brother of this +gray friar, a pilgrim from the far north, brooding in the very face of +the sun, on some stack or outlying barn, but he will not suffer you to +come so near to him as will this solemn anchorite who stares at you +unmoved as a graven image till you come within the very shadows of his +roof. + +Marsh and channel are scarcely distinguishable now but by the white +domes of the muskrats' winter homes and here and there a sprawling +thicket or button bush, for the rank growth of weeds is beaten flat, and +the deep snow covers it and the channel ice in one unbroken sheet. + +Champlain's sheltered bays and coves are frozen and white with snow or +frost, and the open water, whether still or storm-tossed, black beneath +clouds or bluer than the blue dome that arches it, looks as cold as ice +and snow. Sometimes its steaming breath lies close above it, sometimes +mounts in swaying, lofty columns to the sky, but always cold and +ghostly, without expression of warmth or life. + +So far away to hoary peaks that shine with a glittering gleam against +the blue rim of the sky, or to the furthest bluegray line of woodland +that borders the horizon, stretches the universal whiteness, so coldly +shines the sun from the low curve of his course, and so chilly comes the +lightest waft of wind from wheresoever it listeth, that it tasks the +imagination to picture any land on all the earth where spring is just +awakening fresh life, or where summer dwells amid green leaves and +bright flowers, the music of birds and running waters, and of warm waves +on pleasant shores, or autumn yet lingers in the gorgeousness of many +hues. How far off beyond this world seems the possibility of such +seasons, how enduring and relentless this which encompasses us. + +And then, at the close of the brief white day, the sunset paints a +promise and a prophecy in a blaze of color on the sky. The gray clouds +kindle with red and yellow fire that burns about their purple hearts in +tints of infinite variety, while behind them and the dark blue rampart +of the mountains flames the last glory of the departing sun, fading in a +tint of tender green to the upper blue. Even the cold snow at our feet +flushes with warm color, and the eastern hills blush roseate against +the climbing, darkening shadow of the earth. + +It is as if some land of summer whose brightness has never been told lay +unveiled before us, its delectable mountains splendid with innumerable +hues, its lakes and streams of gold rippling to purple shores seeming +not so far before us but that we might, by a little journey, come to +them. + + + + +XLIX + +A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE + + +When the charitable mantle of the snow has covered the ugliness of the +earth, as one looks towards the woodlands he may see a distant dark +speck emerge from the blue shadow of the woods and crawl slowly +houseward. If born to the customs of this wintry land, he may guess at +once what it is; if not, speculation, after a little, gives way to +certainty, when the indistinct atom grows into a team of quick-stepping +horses or deliberate oxen hauling a sled-load of wood to the farmhouse. + +It is more than that. It is a part of the woods themselves, with much of +their wildness clinging to it, and with records, slight and fragmentary, +yet legible, of the lives of trees and birds and beasts and men coming +to our door. + +Before the sounds of the creaking sled and the answering creak of the +snow are heard, one sees the regular puffs of the team's breath jetting +out and climbing the cold air. The head and shoulders of the muffled +driver then appear, as he sticks by narrow foothold to the hinder part +of his sled, or trots behind it beating his breast with his numb hands. +Prone like a crawling band of scouts, endwise like battering-rams, not +upright with green banners waving, Birnam wood comes to Dunsinane to +fight King Frost. + +As the woodpile grows at the farmhouse door in a huge windrow of +sled-length wood or an even wall of cord wood, so in the woods there +widens a patch of uninterrupted daylight. Deep shade and barred and +netted shadow turn to almost even whiteness, as the axe saps the +foundations of summer homes of birds and the winter fastnesses of the +squirrels and raccoons. Here are the tracks of sled and team, where they +wound among rocks and stumps and over cradle knolls to make up a load; +and there are those of the chopper by the stump where he stood to fell +the tree, and along the great trough made by its fall. The snow is +flecked with chips, dark or pale according to their kind, just as they +alighted from their short flight, bark up or down or barkless or +edgewise, and with dry twigs and torn scraps of scattered moss. + +When the chopper comes to his work in the morning, he finds traces of +nightly visitors to his white island that have drifted to its shores out +of the gray sea of woods. Here is the print of the hare's furry foot +where he came to nibble the twigs of poplar and birch that yesterday +were switching the clouds, but have fallen, manna-like, from skyward to +feed him. A fox has skirted its shadowy margin, then ventured to explore +it, and in a thawy night a raccoon has waddled across it. + +The woodman is apt to kindle a fire more for company than warmth, though +he sits by it to eat his cold dinner, casting the crumbs to the +chickadees, which come fearlessly about him at all times. Blazing or +smouldering by turns, as it is fed or starved, the fire humanizes the +woods more than the man does. Now and then it draws to it a visitor, +oftenest a fox-hunter who has lost his hound, and stops for a moment to +light his pipe at the embers and to ask if his dog has been seen or +heard. Then he wades off through the snow, and is presently swallowed +out of sight by gray trees and blue shadows. Or the hound comes in +search of his master or a lost trail. He halts for an instant, with a +wistful look on his sorrowful face, then disappears, nosing his way into +the maw of the woods. + +If the wood is cut "sled length," which is a saving of time and also of +chips, which will now be made at the door and will serve to boil the +tea-kettle in summer, instead of rotting to slow fertilization of the +woodlot, the chopper is one of the regular farm hands or a "day man," +and helps load the sled when it comes. If the wood is four foot, he is a +professional, chopping by the cord, and not likely to pile his cords too +high or long, nor so closely that the squirrels have much more trouble +in making their way through them than over them; and the man comes and +goes according to his ambition to earn money. + +In whichever capacity the chopper plies his axe, he is pretty sure to +bring no sentimentalism to his task. He inherits the feeling that was +held by the old pioneers toward trees, who looked upon the noblest of +them as only giant weeds, encumbering the ground, and best got rid of by +the shortest means. To him the tree is a foe worthy of no respect or +mercy, and he feels the triumph of a savage conquerer when it comes +crashing down and he mounts the prostrate trunk to dismember it; the +more year-marks encircling its heart, the greater his victory. To his +ears, its many tongues tell nothing, or preach only heresy. Away with +the old tree to the flames! To give him his due, he is a skillful +executioner, and will compel a tree to fall across any selected stump +within its length. If one could forget the tree, it is a pretty sight to +watch the easy swing of the axe, and see how unerringly every blow goes +to its mark, knocking out chips of a span's breadth. It does not look +difficult nor like work; but could you strike "twice in a place," or in +half a day bring down a tree twice as thick as your body? The wise +farmer cuts, for fuel, only the dead and decaying trees in his woodlot, +leaving saplings and thrifty old trees to "stand up and grow better," as +the Yankee saying is. + +There is a prosperous and hospitable look in a great woodpile at a +farmhouse door. Logs with the moss of a hundred years on them, breathing +the odors of the woods, have come to warm the inmates and all in-comers. +The white smoke of these chimneys is spicy with the smell of seasoned +hard wood, and has a savor of roasts and stews that makes one hungry. If +you take the back track on a trail of pitchy smoke, it is sure to lead +you to a squalid threshold with its starved heap of pine roots and +half-decayed wood. Thrown down carelessly beside it is a dull axe, +wielded as need requires with spiteful awkwardness by a slatternly +woman, or laboriously upheaved and let fall with uncertain stroke by a +small boy. + +The Yankees who possess happy memories of the great open fires of old +time are growing few, but Whittier has embalmed for all time, in +"Snow-Bound," their comfort and cheer and picturesqueness. When the +trees of the virgin forest cast their shadows on the newly risen roof +there was no forecasting provision for winter. The nearest green tree +was cut, and hauled, full length, to the door, and with it the nearest +dry one was cut to match the span of the wide fireplace; and when these +were gone, another raid was made upon the woods; and so from hand to +mouth the fire was fed. It was not uncommon to draw the huge backlogs on +to the hearth with a horse, and sometimes a yoke of oxen were so +employed. Think of a door wide enough for this: half of the side of a +house to barricade against the savage Indians and savage cold! It was +the next remove from a camp-fire. There was further likeness to it in +the tales that were told beside it, of hunting and pioneer hardships, of +wild beasts and Indian forays, while the eager listeners drew to a +closer circle on the hearth, and the awed children cast covert scared +backward glances at the crouching and leaping shadows that thronged on +the walls, and the great samp-kettle bubbled and seethed on its trammel, +and the forgotten johnny-cake scorched on its tilted board. + +As conveniently near the shed as possible, the pile of sled-length wood +is stretching itself slowly, a huge vertebrate, every day or two gaining +in length; a joint of various woods, with great trunks at the bottom, +then smaller ones, gradually growing less to the topping out of saplings +and branches. Here is a sugar-maple, three feet through at the butt, +with the scars of many tappings showing on its rough bark. The oldest of +them may have been made by the Indians. Who knows what was their method +of tapping? Here is the mark of the gouge with which early settlers drew +the blood of the tree; a fashion learned, likely enough, from the +aboriginal sugar-makers, whose narrowest stone gouges were as passable +tools for the purpose as any they had for another. These more distinct +marks show where the auger of later years made its wounds. The old tree +has distilled its sweets for two races and many generations of men, +first into the bark buckets of Waubanakis, then into the ruder troughs +of Yankee pioneers, then into the more convenient wide-bottomed wooden +sap-tubs; and at last, when the march of improvement has spoiled the +wilderness of the woods with trim-built sugar-houses and patent +evaporators, the sap drips with resounding metallic tinkle into pails of +shining tin. Now the old maple has come to perform its last office, of +warming and cooking the food for a generation that was unborn when it +was yet a lusty tree. + +Beside it lies a great wild-cherry tree that somehow escaped the cabinet +maker when there was one in every town and cherry wood was in fashion. +Its fruit mollified the harshness of the New England rum of many an +old-time raising and husking. Next is a yellow birch with a shaggy mane +of rustling bark along its whole length, like a twelve-foot piece of the +sea serpent drifted ashore and hauled inland; then a white birch, no +longer white, but gray with a coating of moss, and black with belts of +old peelings, made for the patching of canoes and roofing of shanties. + +With these lies a black birch, whose once smooth bark age has scaled and +furrowed, and robbed of all its tenderness and most of its pungent, +aromatic flavor. Some of it yet lingers in the younger topmost twigs +which the hired man brings home to the little folks, who fall to gnawing +them like a colony of beavers. By it is an elm, whose hollow trunk was +the home of raccoons when it stood on its buttressed stump in the swamp. +Near by is a beech, its smooth bark wrinkled where branches bent away +from it, and blotched with spots of white and patches of black and gray +lichen. It is marked with innumerable fine scratches, the track of the +generations of squirrels that have made it their highway; and among +these, the wider apart and parallel nail-marks of a raccoon, and also +the drilling of woodpeckers. Here, too, are traces of man's visitation, +for distorted with the growth of years are initials, and a heart and +dart that symbolized the tender passion of some one of the past, who +wandered, love-sick, in the shadow of the woods. How long ago did +death's inevitable dart pierce his heart? Here he wrote a little of his +life's history, and now his name and that of his mistress are so +completely forgotten one cannot guess them by their first letters +inscribed in the yesterday of the forest's years. + +Above these logs, rolled up on skids or sled stakes, are smaller yet +goodly bodies of white ash, full of oars for the water and rails for the +land; and of black ash, as full of barrel hoops and basket splints, the +ridged and hoary bark shagged with patches of dark moss; and a pine too +knotty for sawing, with old turpentine boxes gashing its lower part, the +dry resin in them half overgrown, but odorous still; and oaks that have +borne their last acorns; and a sharded hickory that will never furnish +another nut for boy or squirrel, but now, and only this once, flail +handles, swingles, and oxbows, and helves for axes to hew down its +brethren, and wood to warm its destroyers, and smoke and fry ham for +them; and a basswood that will give the wild bees no more blossoms in +July, hollow-hearted and unfit for sleigh or toboggan, wood straight +rifted and so white that a chip of it will hardly show on the snow, but +as unprofitable food for fires as the poplars beside it, which, in the +yellow-green of youth or the furrowed gray of age, have shivered their +last. + +Still higher in the woodpile are white birches, yet in the smooth skin +of their prime, which is fit to be fashioned into drinking cups and +berry baskets, or to furnish a page for my lady's album. Here are +hardhacks, some with grain winding like the grooves of a rifle. This is +the timber the Indians made their bows of, and which now serves the same +purpose for the young savages whom we have always with us. There are +sinewy blue beeches, slowly grown up from ox-goads and the "beech seals" +of Ethan Allen's Green Mountain Boys to the girth of a man's thigh, a +size at which they mostly stop growing. A smaller trunk, like yet unlike +them, sets folks to guessing what kind of wood it is. He will hit the +mark who fires at random the names "shadblow," "service-berry," or +"amelanchier." If the axe had been merciful, in early May its branches +would have been as white with blossoms as if the last April snow still +clung to them. Tossed on a-top of all is a jumbled thatch of small +stuff,--saplings improvidently cut, short-lived striped maple, and +dogwood, the slender topmost lengths of great trees, once the perches of +hawks and crows, and such large branches as were not too crooked to lie +still on the sled. + +The snow-fleas, harbingers and attendants of thaws, are making the snow +in the woods gray with their restless myriads, when the sled makes its +last trip across the slushy fields, which are fast turning from white to +dun under the March winds and showers and sunshine. + +The completed woodpile basks in the growing warmth, as responsive to the +touch of spring as if every trunk yet upheld its branches in the forest. +The buds swell on every chance-spared twig, and sap starts from the +severed ducts. From the pine drip slowly lengthening stalactites of +amber, from the hickory thick beads of honeydew, and from the maples a +flow of sweet that calls the bees from their hives across the melting +drifts. Their busy hum makes an island of summer sound in the midst of +the silent ebbing tide of winter. + +As the days grow warmer, the woodpile invites idlers as well as busy +bees and wood-cutters. The big logs are comfortable seats to lounge on +while whittling a pine chip, and breathing the mingled odors of the +many woods freshly cut and the indescribable woodsy smell brought home +in the bark and moss, and listening to the hum of the bees and harsher +music of the saws and axe, the sharp, quick swish of the whip-saw, the +longer drawn and deeper ring of the crosscut, and the regular beat of +the axe,--fiddle, bass-viol, and drum, each with its own time, but all +somehow in tune. The parts stop a little when the fiddler saws off his +string, the two drawers of the long bass-viol bow sever theirs, and the +drummer splits his drum, but each is soon outfitted again, and the +funeral march of the woodpile goes on. Here is the most delightful of +places for those busy idlers the children, for it is full of pioneers' +and hunters' cabins, robbers' caves and bears' dens, and of treasures of +moss and gum and birch, and of punk, the tinder of the Indians and our +forefathers, now gone out of use except for some conservative Canuck to +light his pipe or for boys to touch off their small ordnance. + +It is a pretty sight to watch the nuthatches and titmice searching the +grooves of the bark for their slender fare, or a woodpecker chopping +his best for a living with his sharp-pointed axe, all having followed +their rightful possessions from the woods, taking perhaps the track of +the sled. It is wonderful to hear the auger of the pine-borer, now +thawed into life, crunching its unseen way through the wood. Then there +is always the chance of the axe unlocking the stores of deermice, quarts +of beechnuts with all the shells neatly peeled off; and what if it +should happen to open a wild-bee hive full of honey! + +If the man comes who made the round of the barns in the fall and early +winter with his threshing-machine, having exchanged it for a sawing +machine, he makes short work of our woodpile. A day or two of stumbling +clatter of the horses in their treadmill, and the buzzing and screeching +of the whirling saw, gnaws it into a heap of blocks. + +Our lounging-place and the children's wooden playground have gone, and +all the picturesqueness and woodsiness have disappeared as completely as +when splitting has made only firewood of the pile. It will give warmth +and comfort from the stove, but in that black sepulchre all its beauty +is swallowed out of sight forever. If it can go to a generous fireplace, +it is beautified again in the glowing and fading embers that paint +innumerable shifting pictures, while the leaping flames sing the old +song of the wind in the branches. + + + + +L + +A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION + + +It seems quite probable that this nineteenth century may be unpleasantly +memorable in centuries to come as that in which many species of animate +and inanimate nature became extinct. It has witnessed the extinction of +the great auk, so utterly swept off the face of the earth that the skin, +or even the egg of one, is a small fortune to the possessor. Reduced +from the hundreds of thousands of twenty-five years ago to the few +hundred of to-day, it needs but a few years to compass the complete +annihilation of the bison. It is not improbable that the elk and the +antelope will be overtaken by almost as swift a fate. The skin hunters, +and the game butchers miscalled sportsmen, are making almost as speedy +way with them as they have with the buffalo. + +The common deer, hedged within their narrowing ranges by civilization, +and hunted by all methods in all seasons, may outlast the century, but +they will have become wofully scarce at the close of it, even in such +regions as the Adirondacks which seem to have been set apart by nature +especially for the preservation of wild life. + +The wild turkey is passing away, and it is a question of but few years +when he shall have departed forever. In some localities the next noblest +of our game birds, the ruffed grouse, has become almost a thing of the +past, and in some years is everywhere so scarce that there are sad +forebodings of his complete disappearance from the rugged hills of which +he seems as much a belonging as the lichened rocks, the arbutus and the +wind-swept evergreens. One little island on the New England coast holds +the handful that is left of the race of heath hens. + +The woodcock is being cultivated and improved and murdered out of +existence with clearing and draining and summer shooting, and +unseasonable shooting is doing the same for many kinds of waterfowl. In +the Eastern States a wild pigeon is a rare sight now, and has been for +years; the netters and slaughterers have done their work too thoroughly. + +Gentle woman is making an end of the song-birds that she may trick her +headgear in barbaric and truly savage fashion. The brighter plumaged +small birds are becoming noticeably scarce even in those parts of the +country that the milliners' collector and the pot-naturalist have not +yet invaded, and such as the scarlet tanager, never anywhere numerous, +are like to be soon "collected" out of living existence. If they are to +be saved, it is by no dallying, nor slow awakening of popular feeling in +their behalf. + +There will be pine-trees, no doubt, for centuries to come, but who that +live twenty years hence will see one of these venerable monarchs of the +woods towering above all other forest growth, or see any ancient tree, +however historic or precious for its age and beauty and majesty and +mystery of long past years, if it is worth the cutting for timber or +fuel? + +Even the lesser growths of the old woods are passing away. Some, as the +carpeting sphagnum and the sprawling hobble bush, disappear through +changed conditions; others, as the medicinal spikenard, sarsaparilla, +and ginseng, and the decorative running pine and the arbutus, through +ruthless, greedy gathering, which leaves no root nor ripened seed to +perpetuate their kind. + +An old man may be glad that his eyes are not to behold the coming +desolation, but he must be sad when he thinks of the poor inheritance of +his children. + + + + +LI + +THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS + + +From the sowing and planting of his seed, almost indeed from the turning +of the furrow, the farmer enters upon a contest with the weeds, for a +place in which his crops may grow, and if he or the crops are not +vanquished, as the weeds never are, the warfare continues till harvest +time. + +While he, with infinite labor, prepares the ground and sows his seed +with all care, praying that drouth may not wither nor floods drown it, +and that frosts may not cut down the tender plants, the winds of heaven +and the fowls of the air scatter broadcast the seeds of the noxious +weeds, or these lie dormant in the ground awaiting opportunity. They +germinate in sterile places, fence corners and nooks of the wayside, and +flourish alike in scorching sunshine and in sodden soil. + +Weeds defy the latest and the earliest frosts, grow with their roots in +the air; and cut down, spring up, grow on, blossoming and ripening their +seed in creeping stealth and ever unscathed by blight; and so flourish +in spite of all unkindliness of man or stress of nature, that the +husbandman wishes that they might by some freak of demand become the +useful plants, his present crop the undesired ones. + +Somewhat the same position in which weeds stand opposed to the plants +which the husbandman depends upon for his livelihood, vermin hold toward +the beasts and birds upon which the sportsman depends for his +recreation. While they whose protection men endeavor to maintain during +the season of procreation, and at times when scarcity of food prevails, +decrease often to complete extinction, the vermin, whom the hand of man +is always against, continue to increase and multiply, or at least hold +their own. With them as with the weeds nature seems to deal with a +kinder hand. She spares and nourishes them, while she destroys their +betters. + +The snow crust, which walls the quail in a living tomb, makes a royal +banqueting hall for the pestiferous field mice, where they feast and +revel in plenty, secure from all their enemies, feathered or furred. It +impounds the deer, but gives free range to the wolf and to his as +pitiless two-legged brother, the crust hunter. + +The wet seasons that drown the callow woodcock and grouse work no harm +to the ravenous brood of the hawk and owl, nor to the litter of fox, +mink, or weasel. Wet or dry, hot or cold, the year fosters them +throughout its varied round. + +Winged ticks kill the grouse, but the owl endures their companionship +with sedate serenity and thrives with a swarm of the parasites in the +covert of his feathers. + +The skunk has always been killed on sight as a pest that the world would +be the sweeter for being rid of. In later years the warfare against him +has received an impetus from the value of his fur, but though this has +gone on relentlessly for many years, his tribe still live to load the +air with a fragrance that incites the ambitious trapper to further +conquest. + +All the year round, farmers and their boys wage war upon the crows, but +each returning autumn sees the columns of the black army moving +southward with apparently unthinned ranks, while, year by year, the +harried platoons of ducks and geese return fewer and less frequent. +Those detested foreigners, the English sparrows, increase and multiply +in spite of bitter winters and righteous persecution, while our natives, +the beloved song-birds, diminish in numbers. On every hand we find the +undesirable in animated nature, the birds and beasts that we would +gladly be rid of, maintaining their numbers, while those whose increase +we desire are losing ground and tending toward extinction. + +The prospect for the sportsman of the future is indeed gloomy, unless he +shall make game of the pests and become a hunter of skunks and a shooter +of crows and sparrows. Who can say that a hundred years hence the +leading sportsmen of the period will not be wrangling over the points +and merits of their skunk and woodchuck dogs and bragging of their bags +of crows and sparrows? + + + + +LII + +THE WEASEL + + +A chain that is blown away by the wind and melted by the sun, links with +pairs of parallel dots the gaps of farm fences, and winds through and +along walls and zigzag lines of rails, is likely to be the most visible +sign that you will find in winter of one bold and persistent little +hunter's presence. + +Still less likely are you to be aware of it in summer or fall, even by +such traces of his passage, for he is in league with nature to keep his +secrets. When every foot of his outdoor wandering must be recorded she +makes him as white as the snow whereon it is imprinted, save his beady +eyes and dark tail-tip. When summer is green and autumn gay or sad of +hue she clothes him in the brown wherewith she makes so many of her wild +children inconspicuous. + +Yet you may see him, now and then, in his white suit or in his brown, +gliding with lithe, almost snake-like movement along the lower fence +rails, going forth hunting or bearing home his game, a bird or a fat +field-mouse. In a cranny of an old lichen-scaled stone wall you may see +his bright eyes gleaming out of the darkness, like dewdrops caught in a +spider's web, and then the brown head thrust cautiously forth to peer +curiously at you. Then he may favor you with the exhibition of an +acrobatic feat: his hinder paws being on the ground in the position of +standing, he twists his slender body so that his forepaws are placed in +just the reverse position on the stone or rail above him, and he looks +upward and backward. + +He may be induced to favor you with intimate and familiar acquaintance, +to take bits of meat from your hand and even to climb to your lap and +search your pockets and suffer you to lay a gentle hand upon him, but he +has sharp teeth wherewith to resent too great liberties. + +While he may be almost a pet of a household and quite a welcome visitor +of rat-infested premises, he becomes one of the worst enemies of the +poultry-wife when he is tempted to fall upon her broods of chicks. He +seems possessed of a murderous frenzy, and slays as ruthlessly and +needlessly as a wolf or a human game-butcher or the insatiate angler. +Neither is he the friend of the sportsman, for he makes havoc among the +young grouse and quail and the callow woodcock. + +The trapper reviles him when he finds him in his mink trap, for all the +beauty of his ermine a worthless prize drawn in this chanceful lottery. +When every one carried his money in a purse, the weasel's slender white +skin was in favor with country folk. This use survives only in the +command or exhortation to "draw your weasel." When the purse was empty, +it gave the spendthrift an untimely hint by creeping out of his pocket. +In the primest condition of his fur he neither keeps nor puts money in +your pocket now. He is worth more to look at, with his lithe body quick +with life, than to possess in death. + + + + +LIII + +FEBRUARY DAYS + + +In the blur of storm or under clear skies, the span of daylight +stretches farther from the fading dusk of dawn to the thickening dusk of +evening. Now in the silent downfall of snow, now in the drift and whirl +of flakes driven from the sky and tossed from the earth by the shrieking +wind, the day's passage is unmarked by shadows. It is but a long +twilight, coming upon the world out of one misty gloom, and going from +it into another. Now the stars fade and vanish in the yellow morning +sky, the long shadows of the hills, clear cut on the shining fields, +swing slowly northward and draw eastward to the netted umbrage of the +wood. So the dazzling day grows and wanes and the attenuated shadows are +again stretched to their utmost, then dissolved in the flood of shade, +and the pursued sunlight takes flight from the mountain peaks to the +clouds, from cloud to cloud along the darkening sky, and vanishes beyond +the blue barrier of the horizon. + +There are days of perfect calm and hours of stillness as of sleep, when +the lightest wisp of cloud fleece hangs moveless against the sky and the +pine-trees forget their song. But for the white columns of smoke that, +unbent in the still air, arise from farmstead chimneys, one might +imagine that all affairs of life had been laid aside; for no other sign +of them is visible, no sound of them falls upon the ear. You see the +cows and sheep in the sheltered barnyards and their lazy breaths arising +in little clouds, but no voice of theirs drifts to you. + +No laden team crawls creaking along the highway nor merry jangle of +sleigh bells flying into and out of hearing over its smooth course, nor +for a space do the tireless panting engine and roaring train divide +earth and sky with a wedge of dissolving vapor. The broad expanse of the +lake is a white plain of snow-covered ice: no dash of angry waves +assails its shore still glittering with the trophies of their last +assault; no glimmer of bright waters greets the sun; no keel is afloat; +the lighthouse, its occupation gone, stares day and night with dull eyes +from its lonely rock, upon a silent deserted waste. + +In the wood you may hear no sound but your own muffled footsteps, the +crackle of dry twigs, and the soft swish of boughs swinging back from +your passage, and now and then a tree punctuating the silence with a +clear resonant crack of frozen fibres and its faint echo. You hear no +bird nor squirrel nor sound of woodman's axe, nor do you catch the +pungent fragrance of his fire nor the subtler one of fresh-cut wood. +Indeed, all odors of the forest seem frozen out of the air or locked up +in their sources. No perfume drops from the odor-laden evergreens, only +scentless air reaches your nostrils. + +One day there comes from the south a warm breath, and with it fleets of +white clouds sailing across the blue upper deep, outstripped by their +swifter shadows sweeping in blue squadrons along the glistening fields +and darkening with brief passage the gray woodlands. Faster come the +clouds out of the south and out of the west, till they crowd the sky, +only fragments of its intense azure showing here and there between them, +only now and then a gleam of sunlight flashing across the earth. Then +the blue sunlit sky is quite shut away behind a low arch of gray, +darkening at the horizon with thick watery clouds, and beneath it all +the expanse of fields and forest lies in universal shadow. + +The south wind is warmer than yesterday's sunshine, the snow softens +till your footsteps are sharply moulded as in wax, and in a little space +each imprint is flecked thick with restless, swarming myriads of +snow-fleas. Rain begins to fall softly on snow-covered roofs, but +beating the panes with the familiar patter of summer showers. It becomes +a steady downpour that continues till the saturated snow can hold no +more, and the hidden brooks begin to show in yellow streaks between +white, unstable shores, and glide with a swift whisking rush over the +smooth bottom that paves their rough natural bed; and as their yellow +currents deepen and divide more widely their banks, the noise of their +onflow fills the air like an exaggeration of the murmur of pines, and +the song of the pines swells and falls with the varying wind. + +After the rain there come, perhaps, some hours of quiet sunshine or +starlight, and then out of the north a nipping wind that hardens the +surface of the snow into solid crust that delights your feet to walk +upon. The rivulets shrink out of sight again, leaving no trace but +water-worn furrows in the snow, some frozen fluffs of yellow foam and +stranded leaves and twigs, grass and broken weeds. The broad pools have +left their shells of unsupported ice, which with frequent sudden crashes +shatters down upon their hollow beds. + +When the crust has invited you forth, you cannot retrace your way upon +it, and the wild snow walkers make no record now of their recent +wanderings. But of those who fared abroad before this solid pavement was +laid upon the snow, fabulous tales are now inscribed upon it. Reading +them without question, you might believe that the well-tamed country +had lapsed into the possession of its ancient savage tenants, for the +track of the fox is as big as a wolf's, the raccoon's as large as a +bear's, the house cat's as broad as the panther's, and those of the +muskrat and mink persuade you to believe that the beaver and otter, +departed a hundred years ago, have come to their own again. Till the +next thaw or snowfall, they are set as indelibly as primeval footprints +in the rocks, and for any scent that tickles the hounds' keen nose, +might be as old. He sniffs them curiously and contemptuously passes on, +yet finds little more promising on footing that retains but for an +instant the subtle trace of reynard's unmarked passage. + +The delicate curves and circles that the bent weeds etched on the soft +snow are widened and deepened in rigid grooves, wherein the point that +the fingers of the wind traced them with is frozen fast. Far and wide +from where they fall, all manner of seeds drift across miles of smooth +fields, to spring to life and bloom, by and by, in strange, +unaccustomed places, and brown leaves voyage to where their like was +never grown. The icy knolls shine in the sunlight with dazzling +splendor, like golden islands in a white sea that the north wind stirs +not, and athwart it the low sun and the waning moon cast their long +unrippled glades of gold and silver. Over all winter again holds sway, +but we have once more heard the sound of rain and running brooks and +have been given a promise of spring. + + + + +LIV + +THE FOX + + +Among the few survivals of the old untamed world there are left us two +that retain all the raciness of their ancestral wildness. + +Their wits have been sharpened by the attrition of civilization, but it +has not smoothed their characteristics down to the level of the +commonplace, nor contaminated them with acquired vices as it has their +ancient contemporary, the Indian. But they are held in widely different +esteem, for while the partridge is in a manner encouraged in +continuance, the fox is an outlaw, with a price set upon his head to +tempt all but his few contemned friends to compass his extermination. + +For these and for him there is an unwritten code that, stealthily +enforced, gives him some exemption from universal persecution. They, +having knowledge of the underground house of many portals where the +vixen rears her cubs, guard the secret as jealously as she and her lord, +from the unfriendly farmer, poultry-wife, and bounty-hunting vagabond, +confiding it only to sworn brethren of woodcraft, as silent concerning +it to the unfriendly as the trees that shadow its booty-strewn precincts +or the lichened rocks that fortify it against pick and spade. They never +tell even their leashed hounds till autumn makes the woods gayer with +painted leaves than summer could with blossoms, how they have seen the +master and mistress of this woodland home stealing to it with a fare of +field mice fringing their jaws or bearing a stolen lamb or pullet. + +They watch from some unseen vantage, with amused kindliness, the gambols +of the yellow cubs about their mother, alert for danger, even in her +drowsy weariness, and proud of her impish brood, even now practicing +tricks of theft and cunning on each other. They become abetters of this +family's sins, apologists for its crimes, magnifiers of its unmeant +well-doing. + +When in palliation of the slaughter of a turkey that has robbed a field +of his weight in corn they offset the destruction of hordes of field +mice, they are reviled by those who are righteously exalted above the +idleness of hunting and the foolishness of sentiment. + +At such hands one fares no better who covets the fox, not for the sport +he may give, but for the tang of wild flavor that he imparts to woods +that have almost lost it and to fields that lose nothing of thrift by +its touch. + +You may not see him, but it is good to know that anything so untamed has +been so recently where your plodding footsteps go. You see in last +night's snowfall the sharp imprint of his pads, where he has deviously +quested mice under the mat of aftermath, or trotted slowly, pondering, +to other more promising fields, or there gone airily coursing away over +the moonlit pastures. In imagination you see all his agile gaits and +graceful poses. Now listening with pricked ears to the muffled squeak of +a mouse, now pouncing upon his captured but yet unseen prize, or where +on sudden impulse he has coursed to fresh fields, you see him, a dusky +phantom, gliding with graceful undulations of lithe body and brush over +the snowy stretches; or, halting to wistfully sniff, as a wolf a +sheepfold, the distant henroost; or, where a curious labyrinth of tracks +imprint the snow, you have a vision of him dallying with his tawny +sweetheart under the stars of February skies; or, by this soft mould of +his furry form on a snow-capped stump or boulder, you picture him +sleeping off the fatigue of hunting and love-making, with all senses but +sight still alert, unharmed by the nipping air that silvers his whiskers +with his own breath. + +All these realities of his actual life you may not see except in such +pictures as your fancy makes; but when the woods are many-hued or brown +in autumn, or gray and white in winter, and stirred with the wild music +of the hounds, your blood may be set tingling by the sight of him, his +coming announced by the rustle of leaves under his light footfalls. +Perhaps unheralded by sound, he suddenly blooms ruddily out of the dead +whiteness of the snow. + +Whether he flies past or carefully picks his way along a fallen tree or +bare ledge, you remark his facial expression of incessant intentness on +cunning devices, while ears, eyes, and nose are alert for danger. If he +discovers you, with what ready self-possession he instantly gets and +keeps a tree between himself and you and vanishes while your gun vainly +searches for its opportunity. If your shot brings him down, and you +stand over him exultant, yet pitying the end of his wild life, even in +his death throes fearing you no more, he yet strains his dulled ears to +catch the voices of the relentless hounds. + +Bravely the wild freebooter holds his own against the encroachments of +civilization and the persecution of mankind, levying on the flocks and +broods of his enemy, rearing his yellow cubs in the very border of his +field, insulting him with nightly passage by his threshold. + +Long ago his fathers bade farewell to their grim cousin the wolf, and +saw the beaver and the timid deer pass away, and he sees the eagle +almost banished from its double realm of earth and sky, yet he hardily +endures. For what he preserves for us of the almost extinct wildness, +shall we begrudge him the meagre compensation of an occasional turkey? + + + + +LV + +AN ICE-STORM + + +Of all the vagaries of winter weather, one of the rarest is the +ice-storm; rain falling with a wind and from a quarter that should bring +snow, and freezing as it falls, not penetrating the snow but coating it +with a shining armor, sheathing every branch and twig in crystal and +fringing eaves with icicles of most fantastic shapes. + +On ice-clad roofs and fields and crackling trees the rain still beats +with a leaden clatter, unlike any other sound of rain; unlike the +rebounding pelting of hail or the swish of wind-blown snow. + +The trees begin to stoop under their increasing burden, and then to +crack and groan as it is laid still heavier upon them. At times is heard +the thin, echoless crash of an overladen branch, first bending to its +downfall with a gathering crackle of severed fibres, then with a sudden +crash, shattering in a thousand fragments the brief adornments that have +wrought its destruction. + +Every kind of tree has as marked individuality in its icy garniture as +in its summer foliage. The gracefulness of the elms, the maples, the +birches, the beeches, and the hornbeams is preserved and even +intensified; the clumsy ramage of the butternut and ash is as stiff as +ever, though every unbending twig bears its row of glittering pendants. +The hemlocks and firs are tents of ice, but the pines are still pines, +with every needle exaggerated in bristling crystal. + +Some worthless things have become of present value, as the wayside +thistles and the bejeweled grass of an unshorn meadow, that yesterday +with its dun unsightliness, rustling above the snow, proclaimed the +shiftlessness of its owner. + +Things most unpicturesque are made beautiful. The wire of the telegraph +with its dull undulations is transformed to festoons of crystal fringe, +linking together shining pillars of glass that yesterday were but bare, +unsightly posts. + +The woods are a maze of fantastic shapes of tree growth. Wood roads are +barricaded with low arches of ice that the hare and the fox can barely +find passage beneath, and with long, curved slants of great limbs bent +to the earth. The wild vines are turned to ropes and cables of ice, and +have dragged down their strong supports, about whose prostrate trunks +and limbs they writhe in a tangle of rigid coils. The lithe trunks of +second growth are looped in an intricate confusion of arches one upon +another, many upon one, over whole acres of low-roofed forest floor. + +The hare and the grouse cower in these tents of ice, frightened and +hungry; for every sprout and bud is sheathed in adamant, and scarlet +berries, magnified and unattainable, glow in the heart of crystal +globules. Even the brave chickadees are appalled, and the disheartened +woodpecker mopes beside the dead trunk, behind whose impenetrable shield +he can hear the grub boring in safety. + +Through the frozen brambles that lattice the doorway of his burrow the +fox peers dismayed upon a glassy surface that will hold no scent of +quarry, yet perhaps is comforted that the same conditions impose a +truce upon his enemies the hounds. The squirrel sits fasting in his +chamber, longing for the stores that are locked from their owner in his +cellar. It is the dismalest of all storms for the wood folk, despite all +the splendor wherewith it adorns their realm. + +One holds out his hand and lifts his face skyward to assure himself that +the rain has ceased, for there is a continual clattering patter as if it +were yet falling. But it is only the crackling of the icy trees and the +incessant dropping of small fragments of their burden. + +The gray curtain of the sky drifts asunder, and the low sun shines +through. It glorifies the earth with the flash and gleam of ten million +diamonds set everywhere. The fire and color of every gem that was ever +delved burn along the borders of the golden pathway that stretches from +your feet far away to the silver portals of the mountains that bar our +glittering world from the flaming sky. + +The pallid gloom of the winter night falls upon the earth. Then the full +moon throbs up behind the scintillating barrier of the hills. She +presently paves from herself to us a street of silver among the long +blue shadows, and lights it with a thousand stars; some fallen quite to +earth, some twinkling among the drooping branches, all as bright as the +eternal stars that shine in the blue sky above. + + + + +LVI + +SPARE THE TREES + + +All the protection that the law can give will not prevent the game +naturally belonging to a wooded country from leaving it when it is +deforested, nor keep fish in waters that have shrunk to a quarter of +their ordinary volume before midsummer. The streams of such a country +will thus shrink when the mountains, where the snows lie latest and the +feeding springs are, and the swamps, which dole out their slow but +steady tribute, are bereft of shade. The thin soil of a rocky hill, when +deprived of its shelter of branches, will be burned by the summer sun +out of all power to help the germination of any worthy seed, or to +nurture so noble a plant as a tree through the tender days of its +infancy. It supports only useless weeds and brambles. Once so denuded, +it will be unsightly and unprofitable for many years if not always. +Some swamps at great expense may be brought into tillage and meadow, but +nine times out of ten, when cleared of the lusty growth of woods, they +bear nothing but wild grass, and the streams that trickled from them all +the summer long in their days of wildness show in August only the +parched trail of the spring course. + +Our natives have inherited their ancestors' hatred of trees, which to +them were only cumberers of the ground, to be got rid of by the +speediest means; and our foreign-born landholders, being unused to so +much woodland, think there can be no end to it, let them slash away as +they will. + +Ledges and steep slopes that can bear nothing but wood to any profit, +are shorn of their last tree, and the margins of streams to the very +edge robbed of the willows and water-maples that shaded the water and +with their roots protected the banks from washing. Who has not known a +little alder swamp, in which he was sure to find a dozen woodcock, when +he visited it on the first day of the season each year? Some year the +first day comes and he seeks it as usual, to find its place marked only +by brush heaps, stubs, and sedges; and for the brook that wimpled +through it in the days of yore, only stagnant pools. The worst of it is, +the owners can seldom give any reason for this slaughter but that their +victims were trees and bushes. + +The Yankee, with his proverbial thriftiness and forecast, appears +entirely to lose these gifts when it comes to the proper and sensible +management of woodlands. Can he not understand that it is more +profitable to keep a lean or thin soil that will grow nothing well but +wood, growing wood instead of worthless weeds? The crop is one which is +slow in coming to the harvest, but it is a sure one, and is every year +becoming a more valuable one. It breaks the fierceness of the winds, and +keeps the springs from drying up, and is a comfort to the eye, whether +in the greenness of the leaf or the barrenness of the bough, and under +its protecting arms live and breed the grouse, the quail and the hare, +and in its shadowed rills swim the trout. + + + + +LVII + +THE CHICKADEE + + +The way to the woods is blurred with a mist of driven snow that veils +the portal of the forest with its upblown curtain, and blots out all +paths, and gives to the familiar landmarks a ghostly unreality. The +quietude of the woods is disturbed by turbulent voices, the angry roar +and shriek of the wind, the groaning and clashing of writhing, tormented +trees. Over all, the sunned but unwarmed sky bends its blue arch, as +cold as the snowy fields and woods beneath it. + +In such wild weather you are not tempted far abroad in quest of old +acquaintances of fields and woods, yet from the inhospitable woods some +of them come to you. Among them all, none is more welcome than that +feathered atom of life, the chickadee. With the same blithe note that +welcomed you to his woodland haunts in spring, in summer, and in +autumn, when he attended you with such charming familiarity, amusing you +with pretty acrobatic feats, as he flitted now before, now beside, now +above you, he hails you now, and asks that hospitality be extended to +him. + +Set forth a feast of suet on the window-sill, and he will need no +bidding to come and partake of it. How daintily he helps himself to the +tiniest morsels, never cramming his bill with gross mouthfuls as do his +comrades at the board, the nuthatch and the downy woodpecker! They, like +unbidden guests, doubtful of welcome or of sufferance even, make the +most of time that may prove all too brief, and gorge themselves as +greedily as hungry tramps; while he, unscared by your face at the +window, tarries at his repast, pecking his crumbs with leisurely +satisfaction. You half expect to see him swept from your sight like a +thistledown by the gusty blast, but he holds bravely to his perch, +unruffled in spirit if not in feathers, and defies his fierce assailant +with his oft-repeated challenge. + +As often as you spread the simple feast for him he will come and sit at +your board, a confiding guest, well assured of welcome, and will repay +you with an example of cheerful life in the midst of dreariness and +desolation. In the still, bright days, his cheery voice rings through +the frosty air, and when the thick veil of the snow falls in a wavering +slant from the low sky its muffled cadence still heartens you. + +What an intense spark of vitality must it be that warms such a mite in +such an immensity of cold; that floats his little life in this deluge of +frigid air, and keeps him in song while we are dumb with shivering! If +our huge hulks were endowed with proportionate vitality, how easily we +might solve the mysteries of the frozen north! + +On some February day, when the first promise of spring is drifted to you +in the soft south wind, the tenderness of spring is voiced in his +love-note, brief but full of melody, and sweet as the evening song of +the wood pewee. When the spring songsters come, he takes leave of you. +He has seen you safely through the winter, and departs to the woods on +affairs of his own. He is no longer a vagrant, but at home in his own +greenwood, yet as unfretted by the cares of housekeeping as he was by +the heavy weariness of winter. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In New England Fields and Woods, by +Rowland E. 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