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diff --git a/42144-0.txt b/42144-0.txt index b86072b..f5bf4ae 100644 --- a/42144-0.txt +++ b/42144-0.txt @@ -1,37 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -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: The Spring of the Year - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - -Release Date: February 20, 2013 [EBook #42144] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42144 *** [Illustration: SPRING OF THE YEAR--SHADBUSH (CHAPTER I)] @@ -3988,361 +3955,4 @@ PAGE 133 End of Project Gutenberg's The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - -***** This file should be named 42144-0.txt or 42144-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/4/42144/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: The Spring of the Year - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - -Release Date: February 20, 2013 [EBook #42144] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - - - - - - - - [Illustration: SPRING OF THE YEAR--SHADBUSH (CHAPTER I)] - - - The Dallas Lore Sharp Nature Series - - - - - THE SPRING OF THE YEAR - - - BY - - DALLAS LORE SHARP - - - AUTHOR OF "THE LAY OF THE LAND," "THE FACE OF THE - FIELDS," "THE FALL OF THE YEAR," "WINTER," ETC. - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - - ROBERT BRUCE HORSFALL - - - BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO - - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - - The Riverside Press Cambridge - - - COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1905, AND 1906, BY THE CHAPPLE PUBLISHING CO., LTD. - - COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS BOOK COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1911, AND 1912, BY DALLAS LORE SHARP - - COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY COMPANY - - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - The Riverside Press - - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - - U . S . A - - - TO MY SISTER - - JENNIE THE BEST OF COMPANIONS - IN THE WOODS AND FIELDS - THROUGH WHICH WE WENT TO SCHOOL - - - - - CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION ix - I. SPRING! SPRING! SPRING! 1 - II. THE SPRING RUNNING 7 - III. AN OLD APPLE TREE 13 - IV. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS SPRING 26 - V. IF YOU HAD WINGS 33 - VI. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS SPRING 41 - VII. THE PALACE IN THE PIG-PEN 48 - VIII. IS IT A LIFE OF FEAR? 60 - IX. THE BUZZARD OF THE BEAR SWAMP 76 - X. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS SPRING 86 - XI. TURTLE EGGS FOR AGASSIZ 94 - XII. AN ACCOUNT WITH NATURE 115 - XIII. WOODS MEDICINE 127 - NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS 137 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - SPRING OF THE YEAR--SHADBUSH _Frontispiece_ - HYLAS PEEPING "SPRING!" 1 - "THE EARLIEST BLOODROOT" 4 - THE TURKEY-HEN--"HALF A MILE FROM HOME" 8 - CATFISH FAMILY 12 - SCREECH OWL--"OUT OVER THE MEADOW HE SAILS" 17 - TREE-TOAD--"COMES FORTH TO THE EDGE OF HIS HOLE" 23 - SKUNK-CABBAGE AND BUMBLEBEE 27 - A SUNFISH OVER ITS NEST 29 - CRESTED FLYCATCHER WITH SNAKE-SKIN 31 - "ONE OF MY LITTLE BAND OF CROWS" 33 - YOUNG PAINTED TURTLE, FROGS' EGGS, SNAILS, AND - WHIRLIGIG BEETLES 45 - "ONE LIVE TOAD UNDER YOUR DOORSTEP" 46 - PHOEBE AND HER YOUNG 55 - PIKE AND MINNOWS 62 - FOX BARKING--"UPON THE BARE KNOLL NEAR THE HOUSE" 66 - PINE MARTEN AND CHIPMUNK 71 - "UPON ONE OF THESE THE BUZZARD SAT HUMPED" 79 - YOUNG TURKEY BUZZARD 83 - BROWN THRASHER--"OUR FINEST, MOST GIFTED SONGSTER" 87 - PAINTED TURTLE--"BEGAN TO BURY HERSELF" 103 - CHIPMUNK EATING JUNE-BUGS 117 - "TWO TUMBLE-BUGS TRYING TO ROLL THEIR BALL UP HILL" 127 - "THE BOX TURTLES SCUFF CARELESSLY ALONG" 130 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -It has been my aim in the thirty-nine chapters of the three books in -this series to carry my readers through the weeks of all the school -year, not however as with a calendar, for that would be more or less -wooden and artificial; but by readings, rather, that catch in a large -way the spirit of the particular season, that give something definite -and specific in the way of suggestions for tramps afield with things -to look for and hear and do. Naturally many of the birds and animals -and flowers mentioned, as well as woods and aspects of sky and field, -are those of my own local environment--of my New England -surrounding--and so must differ in some details from those surrounding -you in your far Southern home or you on your distant Pacific coast, or -you in your rich and varied valley of the Mississippi, or you on your -wide and generous prairie. But the similarities and correspondences, -the things and conditions we have in common, are more than our -differences. Our sun, moon, sky, earth--our land--are the same, our -love for this beautiful world is the same, as is that touch of nature -which we all feel and which makes us all kin. Wherever, then, in these -books of the seasons, the things treated differ from the things -around you, read about those things for information, and in your -journeys afield fill in the gaps with whatever it is that completes -your landscape, or rounds out your cycle of the seasons, or links up -your endless chain of life. - -While I have tried to be accurate throughout these books, still it has -not been my object chiefly to write a natural history--volumes of -outdoor facts; but to quicken the imaginations behind the sharp eyes, -behind the keen ears and the eager souls of the multitude of children -who go to school, as I used to go to school, through an open, -stirring, beckoning world of living things that I longed to range and -understand. - -The best thing that I can do as writer, that you can do as teacher, if -I may quote from the last paragraph--the keynote of these volumes--is -to "go into the fields and woods, go deep and far and frequently, with -eyes and ears and all your souls alert." - - MULLEIN HILL, May, 1912 - - - - -THE SPRING OF THE YEAR - - - - -CHAPTER I - -"SPRING! SPRING! SPRING!" - - -Who is your spring messenger? Is it bird or flower or beast that -brings your spring? What sight or sound or smell spells S-P-R-I-N-G to -you, in big, joyous letters? - -Perhaps it is the frogs. Certainly I could not have a real spring -without the frogs. They have peeped "Spring!" to me every time I have -had a spring. Perhaps it is the arbutus, or the hepatica, or the -pussy-willow, or the bluebird, or the yellow spice-bush, or, if you -chance to live in New England, perhaps it is the wood pussy that -brings your spring! - -Beast, bird, or flower, whatever it is, there comes a day and a -messenger and--spring! You know that spring is here. It may snow again -before night: no matter; your messenger has brought you the news, -brought you the very spring itself, and after all your waiting -through the winter months are you going to be discouraged by a flurry -of snow? - - "All white and still lie stream and hill-- - The winter dread and drear! - When from the skies a bluebird flies, - And--spring is here!" - -To be sure, it is here, if the bluebird is your herald. - -But how much faith in the weather you must have, and how you must long -for the spring before the first bluebird brings it to you! Some sunny -March day he drops down out of the blue sky, saying softly, sweetly, -"Florida, florida!" as if calling the flowers; and then he is -gone!--gone for days at a time, while it snows and blows and rains, -freezes and thaws, thaws, thaws, until the March mud looks fitter for -clams than for flowers. - -So it is with the other first signs. If you want springtime ahead of -time, then you must have it in your heart, out of reach of the -weather, just as you must grow cucumbers in a hothouse if you want -them ahead of time. But there comes a day when cucumbers will grow out -of doors; and there comes a day when the bluebird and the song sparrow -and all the other heralds stay, when spring has come whether you have -a heart or not. - -What day is that in your out-of-doors, and what sign have you to mark -it? Mr. John Burroughs says his sign is the wake-robin, or trillium. -When I was a school-boy it used to be for me the arbutus; but -nowadays it is the shadbush: I have no sure settled spring until I see -the shadbush beginning to open misty white in the edge of the woods. -Then I can trust the weather; I can open my beehives; I can plough and -plant my garden; I can start into the woods for a day with the birds -and flowers; for when the shadbush opens, the great gate to the woods -and fields swings open--wide open to let everybody in. - -But perhaps you do not know what the shadbush is? That does not -matter. You can easily enough find that out. Some call it June-berry; -others call it service-berry; and the botany calls it _A-me-lan'chi-er -ca-na-den'sis_! But that does not matter either. For this is not a -botany lesson. It is an account of how springtime comes to _me_, and -when and what are its signs. And I would have you read it to think how -springtime comes to _you_, and when and what are its signs. So, if the -dandelion, and not the shadbush, is your sign, then you must read -"dandelion" here every time I write "shadbush." - -There is an old saying, "He that would bring home the wealth of the -Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies out"; which is to say, -those who bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry out some -kind of wealth in exchange. So you who would enjoy or understand what -my shadbush means to me must have a shadbush of your own, or a -dandelion, or something that is a sign to you that spring is here. -Then, you see, my chapter in the book will become your own. - -There are so many persons who do not know one bird from another, one -tree from another, one flower from another; who would not know one -season from another did they not see the spring hats in the milliner's -window or feel the need of a change of coat. I hope you are not one of -them. I hope you are on the watch, instead, for the first phoebe or -the earliest bloodroot, or are listening to catch the shrill, brave -peeping of the little tree-frogs, the hylas. - -As for me, I am on the watch for the shadbush. Oh, yes, spring comes -before the shadbush opens, but it is likely not to stay. The wild -geese trumpet spring in the gray March skies as they pass; a February -rain, after a long cold season of snow, spatters your face with -spring; the swelling buds on the maples, the fuzzy kittens on the -pussy-willows, the opening marsh-marigolds in the meadows, the frogs, -the bluebirds--all of these, while they stay, are the spring. But they -are not sure to stay over night, here in New England. You may wake up -and find it snowing--until the shadbush opens. After that, hang up -your sled and skates, put away your overcoat and mittens; for spring -is here, and the honey-bees will buzz every bright day until the -October asters are in bloom. - -I said if you want springtime ahead of time you must have it in your -heart. Of course you must. If your heart is warm and your eye is keen, -you can go forth in the dead of winter and gather buds, seeds, -cocoons, and living things enough to make a little spring. For the -fires of summer are never wholly out. They are only banked in the -winter, smouldering always under the snow, and quick to brighten and -burst into blaze. There comes a warm day in January, and across your -thawing path crawls a woolly-bear caterpillar; a mourning-cloak -butterfly flits through the woods, and the juncos sing. That night a -howling snowstorm sweeps out of the north; the coals are covered -again. So they kindle and darken, until they leap from the ashes of -winter a pure, thin blaze in the shadbush, to burn higher and hotter -across the summer, to flicker and die away--a line of yellow -embers--in the weird witch-hazel of the autumn. - -At the sign of the shadbush the doors of my springtime swing wide -open. My birds are back, my turtles are out, my long sleeping -woodchucks are wide awake. There is not a stretch of woodland or -meadow now that shows a trace of winter. Over the pasture the bluets -are beginning to drift, as if the haze on the distant hills, floating -down in the night, had been caught in the dew-wet grass. They wash -the field to its borders in their delicate azure hue. At the sign of -the shadbush the doors of my memory, too, swing wide open, and I am a -boy again in the meadows of my old home. The shadbush is in blossom, -and the fish are running--the sturgeon up the Delaware; the shad up -Cohansey Creek; and through the Lower Sluice, these soft, stirring -nights, the catfish are slipping. Is there any real boy now in -Lupton's Meadows to watch them come? Oh yes, doubtless; and doubtless -there ever shall be. But I would go down for this one night, down in -the May moonlight, and listen, as I used to listen years ago, for the -quiet _splash splash splash_, as the swarming catfish pass through the -shallows of the main ditch, up toward the dam at the pond. - -At the sign of the shadbush how swiftly the tides of life begin to -rise! How mysteriously their currents run!--the fish swimming in from -the sea, the birds flying up from the South, the flowers opening fresh -from the soil, the insects coming out from their sleep: life moving -everywhere--across the heavens, over the earth, along the deep, dim -aisles of the sea! - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SPRING RUNNING - - -This title is Kipling's; the observations that follow are mine; but -the real spring running is yours and mine and Kipling's and Mowgli the -wolf-child's, whose running Kipling has told us about. Indeed, every -child of the earth has felt it, has had the running--every living -thing of the land and the sea. - -Everything feels it; everything is restless, everything is moving. The -renter changes houses; the city dweller goes "down to the shore" or up -to the mountains to open his summer cottage; the farmer starts to -break up the land for planting; the schoolchildren begin to squirm in -their seats and long to fly out of the windows; and "Where are you -_going_ this summer?" is on every one's lips. - -They have all caught the spring running, the only infection I know -that you can catch from April skies. The very sun has caught it, too, -and is lengthening out his course, as if he hated to stop and go to -bed at night. And the birds, that are supposed to go to bed most -promptly, they sleep, says the good old poet Chaucer, with open eye, -these April nights, so bad is their case of spring running,-- - - "So priketh hem Nature in hir corages."[1] - -[Footnote 1: So nature pricks (stirs) them in their hearts.] - -Their long journey northward over sea and land has not cured them yet -of their unrest. Only one thing will do it (and I suppose we all -should be glad), one sovereign remedy, and that is _family cares_. But -they are yet a long way off. - -Meantime watch your turkey-hen, how she saunters down the field alone, -how pensive she looks, how lost for something to do and somewhere to -go. She is sick with this disease of spring. Follow her, keeping out -of sight yourself, and lo, a nest, hidden under a pile of brush in a -corner of the pasture fence, half a mile from home! - -The turkey-hen has wandered off half a mile to build her nest; but -many wild birds have come on their small wings all the way from the -forests of the Amazon and have gone on to Hudson Bay and the Fur -Countries, just to build their nests and rear their young. A wonderful -case of the spring running, you would say; and still more wonderful is -the annual journey of the golden plover from Patagonia to Alaska and -back, eight thousand miles each way. Yet there is another case that -seems to me more mysterious, and quite as wonderful, as the sea seems -more mysterious than the land. - -It is the spring running of the fish. For when the great tidal waves -of bird-life begin to roll northward with the sun, a corresponding -movement begins among the denizens of the sea. The cold-blooded fish -feel the stirring; the spring running seizes them, and in they come -through the pathless wastes of the ocean, waves of them, shoals of -them,--sturgeon, shad, herring,--like the waves and flocks of wild -geese, warblers, and swallows overhead,--into the brackish water of -the bays and rivers and on (the herring) into the fresh water of the -ponds. - -To watch the herring come up Weymouth Back River into Herring Run here -near my home, as I do every April, is to watch one of the most -interesting, most mysterious movements of all nature. It was about a -century ago that men of Weymouth brought herring in barrels of water -by ox-teams from Taunton River and liberated them in the pond at the -head of Weymouth Back River. These fish laid their eggs in the grassy -margins of the pond that spring and went out down the river to the -sea. Later on, the young fry, when large enough to care for -themselves, found their way down the river and out to sea. - -And where did they go then? and what did they do? Who can tell? for -who can read the dark book of the sea? Yet this one thing we know they -did, for still they are doing it after all these hundred years,--they -came back up the river, when they were full-grown,--up the river, up -the run, up into the pond, to lay their eggs in the waters where they -were hatched, in the waters that to them were _home_. - -Something very much like this all the other fish are doing, as are the -birds also. The spell of _home_ is over land and sea, and has been -laid upon them all. The bird companies of the fall went south at the -inexorable command of Hunger; but a greater than Hunger is in command -of the forces of spring. Now our vast bird army of North America, five -billion strong, is moving northward at the call of Home. And the hosts -of the sea, whose shining billions we cannot number,--they, too, are -coming up, some of them far up through the shallow streams to the -wood-walled ponds for a drink of the sweet waters of Home. - -As a boy I used to go down to the meadows at night to hear the catfish -coming, as now I go down to the village by day to see the herring -coming. The catfish would swim in from the Cohansey, through the -sluices in the bank, then up by way of the meadow ditches to the dam -over which fall the waters of Lupton's Pond. - -It was a seven-or eight-foot dam, and of course the fish could not -climb it. Down under the splashing water they would crowd by hundreds, -their moving bodies close-packed, pushing forward, all trying to break -through the wooden wall that blocked their way. Slow, stupid things -they looked; but was not each big cat head pointed forward? each -slow, cold brain trying to follow and keep up with each swift, warm -heart? For the homeward-bound heart knows no barrier; it never stops -for a dam. - -The herring, too, on their way up the run are stopped by a dam; but -the town, in granting to certain men the sole rights to catch the -fish, stipulated that a number of the live herring, as many as several -barrels full, should be helped over the dam each spring that they -might go on up to the pond to deposit their eggs. If this were not -done annually, the fish would soon cease to come, and the Weymouth -herring would be no more. - -There was no such lift for the catfish under Lupton's dam. I often -tossed them over into the pond, and so helped to continue the line; -but perhaps there was no need, for spring after spring they returned. -They were the young fish, I suppose, new each year, from parent fish -that remain inside the pond the year round. - -I cannot say now--I never asked myself before--whether it is Mother or -Father Catfish who stays with the swarm (it is literally a swarm) of -kitten catfish. It may be father, as in the case of Father Stickleback -and Father Toadfish, who cares for the children. If it is--I take off -my hat to him. I have four of my own; and I think if I had eighteen or -twenty more I should have both hands full. But Father Catfish! Did you -ever see his brood? - -I should say that there might easily be five hundred young ones in -the family, though I never have counted them. But you might. If you -want to try it, take your small scoop-net of coarse cheesecloth, or -mosquito-netting, and go down to the pond this spring. Close along the -margin you will see holes in the shallow water running up under the -overhanging grass and roots. The holes were made probably by the -muskrats. It is in here that the old catfish is guarding the brood. - -As soon as you learn to know the holes, you can cover the entrance -with your net, and then by jumping or stamping hard on the ground -above the hole, you will drive out the old fish with a flop, the -family following in a fine, black cloud. The old fish will swim away, -then come slowly back to the scattered swarm, to the little black -things that look like small tadpoles, who soon cluster about the -parent once more and wiggle away into the deep, dark water of the -pond--the strangest family group that I know in all the spring world. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -AN OLD APPLE TREE - - -Beyond the meadow, perhaps half a mile from my window, stands an old -apple tree, the last of an ancient line that once marked the boundary -between the "upper" and the "lower" pastures. It is a bent, broken, -hoary old tree, grizzled with suckers from feet to crown. No one has -pruned it for half a century; no one ever gathers its gnarly -apples--no one but the cattle who love to lie in its shadow and munch -its fruit. - -The cows know the tree. One of their winding paths runs under its -low-hung branches; and as I frequently travel the cow-paths, I also -find my way thither. Yet I do not go for apples, nor just because the -cow-path takes me. That old apple tree is hollow, hollow all over, -trunk and branches, as hollow as a lodging-house; and I have never -known it when it was not "putting up" some wayfaring visitor or some -permanent lodger. So I go over, whenever I have a chance, to call upon -my friends or pay my respects to the distinguished guests. - -This old tree is on the neighboring farm. It does not belong to me, -and I am glad; for if it did, then I should have to trim it, and -scrape it, and plaster up its holes, and put a burlap petticoat on -it, all because of the gruesome gypsy moths that infest my trees. Oh, -yes, that would make it bear better apples, but what then would become -of its birds and beasts? Everybody ought to have _one_ apple tree that -bears birds and beasts--and Baldwin apples, too, of course, if the -three sorts of fruit can be made to grow on the same tree. But only -the birds and beasts grow well on the untrimmed, unscraped, -unplastered, unpetticoated old tree yonder between the pastures. His -heart is wide open to every small traveler passing by. - -Whenever I look over toward the old tree, I think of the old -vine-covered, weather-beaten house in which my grandfather lived, -where many a traveler put up over night--to get a plate of -grandmother's buckwheat cakes, I think, and a taste of her keen wit. -The old house sat in under a grove of pin oak and pine,--"Underwood" -we called it,--a sheltered, sheltering spot; with a peddler's stall in -the barn, a peddler's place at the table, a peddler's bed in the herby -garret, a boundless, fathomless featherbed, of a piece with the house -and the hospitality. There were larger houses and newer, in the -neighborhood; but no other house in all the region, not even the -tavern, two miles farther down the pike, was half so central, or so -homelike, or so full of sweet and juicy gossip. The old apple tree -yonder between the woods and the meadow is as central, as hospitable, -and, if animals talk with one another, just as full of neighborhood -news as was grandfather's roof-tree. - -Of course you would never suspect it, passing by. But then, no lover -of wild things passes by--never without first stopping, and especially -before an old tree all full of holes. Whenever you see a hole in a -tree, in a sand-bank, in a hillside, under a rail-pile--anywhere out -of doors, stop! - -Stop here beside this decrepit apple tree. No, you will find no sign -swinging from the front, no door-plate, no letter-box bearing the name -of the family residing here. The birds and beasts do not advertise -their houses so. They would hide their houses, they would have you -pass by; for most persons are rude in the woods and fields, breaking -into the homes of the wood-folk as they never would dream of doing in -the case of their human neighbors. - -There is no need of being rude anywhere, no need of being an unwelcome -visitor even to the shyest and most timid of the little people of the -fields. Come over with me--they know me in the old apple tree. It is -nearly sundown. The evening is near, with night at its heels, for it -is an early March day. - -We shall not wait long. The doors will open that we may enter--enter -into a home of the fields, and, a little way at least, into a life of -the fields, for, as I have said, this old tree has a small dweller of -some sort the year round. - -On this March day we shall be admitted by my owls. They take -possession late in winter and occupy the tree, with some curious -fellow tenants, until early summer. I can count upon these small -screech owls by February,--the forlorn month, the seasonless, -hopeless, lifeless month of the year, but for its owls, its thaws, its -lengthening days, its cackling pullets, its possible bluebirds, and -its being the year's end! At least the ancients called February, not -December, the year's end, maintaining, with some sense, that the -making of the world was begun in March, that is, with the spring. The -owls do not, like the swallows, bring the spring, but they -nevertheless help winter with most seemly haste into an early grave. - -If, as the dusk comes down, I cannot go over to the tree, I will go to -my window and watch. I cannot see him, the grim-beaked baron with his -hooked talons, his ghostly wings, his night-seeing eyes, but I know -that he has come to his window in the apple-tree turret yonder against -the darkening sky, and that he watches with me. I cannot see him swoop -downward over the ditches, nor see him quarter the meadow, beating, -dangling, dropping between the flattened tussocks; nor can I hear him, -as, back on the silent shadows, he slants upward again to his tower. -Mine are human eyes, human ears. Even the quick-eared meadow mouse did -not hear until the long talons closed and it was too late. - -[Illustration: SCREECH OWL--"OUT OVER THE MEADOW HE SAILS"] - -But there have been times when, like some belated traveler, I have -been forced to cross this wild night-land of his; and I have _felt_ -him pass--so near at times that he has stirred my hair, by the -wind--dare I say?--of his mysterious wings. At other times I have -heard him. Often on the edge of night I have listened to his -quavering, querulous cry from the elm-tops below me by the meadow. But -oftener I have watched at the casement here in my castle wall. - -Away yonder on the borders of night, dim and gloomy, looms his ancient -keep. I wait. Soon on the deepened dusk spread his soft wings, out -over the meadow he sails, up over my wooded height, over my moat, to -my turret tall, as silent and unseen as the soul of a shadow, except -he drift across the face of the full round moon, or with his weird cry -cause the dreaming quiet to stir in its sleep and moan. - -Now let us go over again to the old tree, this time in May. It will be -curious enough, as the soft dusk comes on, to see the round face of -the owl in one hole and, out of another hole in the broken limb above, -the flat, weazened face of a little tree-toad. - -Both creatures love the dusk; both have come forth to their open doors -to watch the darkening; both will make off under the cover of the -night--one for mice and frogs over the meadow, the other for slugs and -insects over the crooked, tangled limbs of the apple tree. - -It is strange enough to see them together, but it is stranger still -to think of them together; for it is just such prey as this little -toad that the owl has gone over the meadow to catch. - -Why does he not take the supper ready here on the shelf? There may be -reasons that we, who do not eat tree-toad, know nothing of; but I am -inclined to believe that the owl has never seen his fellow lodger in -the doorway above, though he must often have heard him trilling gently -and lonesomely in the gloaming, when his skin cries for rain! - -Small wonder if they have never met! for this gray, squat, disk-toed -little monster in the hole, or flattened on the bark of the tree like -a patch of lichen, may well be one of the things that are hidden from -even the sharp-eyed owl. It is always a source of fresh amazement, the -way that this largest of the hylas, on the moss-marked rind of an old -tree, can utterly blot himself out before your staring eyes. - -The common toads and all the frogs have enemies enough, and it would -seem from the comparative scarcity of the tree-toads that they must -have enemies, too; but I do not know who they are. This scarcity of -the tree-toads is something of a puzzle, and all the more to me, that, -to my certain knowledge, this toad has lived in the old Baldwin tree, -now, for five years. Perhaps he has been several toads, you say, not -one; for who can tell one tree-toad from another? Nobody; and for that -reason I made, some time ago, a simple experiment, in order to see -how long a tree-toad might live, unprotected, in his own natural -environment. - -Upon moving into this house, about nine years ago, we found a -tree-toad living in the big hickory by the porch. For the next three -springs he reappeared, and all summer long we would find him, now on -the tree, now on the porch, often on the railing and backed tight up -against a post. Was he one or many? we asked. Then we marked him; and -for the next four years we knew that he was himself alone. How many -more years he might have lived in the hickory for us all to pet, I -should like to know; but last summer, to our great sorrow, the gypsy -moth killers, poking in the hole, hit our little friend and left him -dead. - -It was very wonderful to me, the instinct for home--the love for home, -I should like to call it--that this humble little creature showed. -Now, a toad is an amphibian to the zoölogist; an ugly gnome with a -jeweled eye, to the poet; but to the naturalist, the lover of life for -its own sake, who lives next door to his toad, who feeds him a fly or -a fat grub now and then, who tickles him to sleep with a rose leaf, -who waits as thirstily as the hilltop for him to call the summer rain, -who knows his going to sleep for the winter, his waking up for the -spring--to such a one, I say, a tree-toad means more than the jeweled -eye and the strange amphibious habits. - -This small tree-toad had a home, had it in a tree, too,--in a hickory -tree,--this toad that dwelt by my house. - - "East, west, - Hame's best," - -croaked our tree-toad in a tremulous, plaintive song that wakened -memories in the vague twilight of more old, unhappy, far-off things -than any other voice I ever knew. - -These two tree-toads could not have been induced to trade houses, the -hickory for the apple, because a house to a toad means home, and a -home is never in the market. There are many more houses in the land -than homes. Most of us are only real-estate dealers. Many of us have -never had a home; and none of us has ever had, perhaps, more than one, -or could have--that home of our childhood. - -This toad seemed to feel it all. Here in the hickory for four years -(more nearly seven, I am sure) he lived, single and alone. He would go -down to the meadow when the toads gathered there to lay their eggs; -but back he would come, without mate or companion, to his tree. -Stronger than love of kind, than love of mate, constant and dominant -in his slow cold heart was his instinct for home. - -If I go down to the orchard and bring up from an apple tree some other -toad to dwell in the hole of the hickory, I shall fail. He might -remain for the day, but not throughout the night, for with the -gathering twilight there steals upon him an irresistible longing; and -guided by it, as bee and pigeon and dog and man are guided, he makes -his sure way back to his orchard home. - -Would my toad of the Baldwin tree go back beyond the orchard, over the -road, over the wide meadow, over to the old tree, half a mile away, if -I brought him from there? We shall see. During the coming summer I -shall mark him in some manner, and bringing him here to the hickory, I -shall then watch the old apple tree yonder to see if he returns. It -will be a hard, perilous journey. But his longing will not let him -rest; and, guided by his mysterious sense of direction,--for that -_one_ place,--he will arrive, I am sure, or he will die on the way. - -Suppose he never gets back? Only one toad less? A great deal more than -that. There in the old Baldwin he has made his home for I don't know -how long, hunting over its world of branches in the summer, sleeping -down in its deep holes during the winter--down under the chips and -punk and castings, beneath the nest of the owls, it may be; for my -toad in the hickory always buried himself so, down in the débris at -the bottom of the hole, where, in a kind of cold storage, he preserved -himself until thawed out by the spring. - -I never pass the old apple in the summer but that I stop to pay my -respects to the toad; nor in the winter that I do not pause and think -of him asleep in there. He is no longer mere toad. He has passed into -the Guardian Spirit of the tree, warring in the green leaf against -worm and grub and slug, and in the dry leaf hiding himself, a heart of -life, within the thin ribs, as if to save the old shell of a tree to -another summer. - -Often in the dusk, especially the summer dusk, I have gone over to sit -at his feet and learn some of the things that my school-teachers and -college professors did not teach me. - -Seating myself comfortably at the foot of the tree, I wait. The toad -comes forth to the edge of his hole above me, settles himself -comfortably, and waits. And the lesson begins. The quiet of the summer -evening steals out with the wood-shadows and softly covers the fields. -We do not stir. An hour passes. We do not stir. Not to stir is the -lesson--one of the primary lessons in this course with the toad. - -The dusk thickens. The grasshoppers begin to strum; the owl slips out -and drifts away; a whip-poor-will drops on the bare knoll near me, -clucks and shouts and shouts again, his rapid repetition a thousand -times repeated by the voices that call to one another down the long -empty aisles of the swamp; a big moth whirs about my head and is -gone; a bat flits squeaking past; a firefly blazes, is blotted out by -the darkness, blazes again, and so passes, his tiny lantern flashing -into a night that seems the darker for his quick, unsteady glow. - -We do not stir. It is a hard lesson. By all my other teachers I had -been taught every manner of stirring, and this strange exercise of -being still takes me where my body is weakest, and puts me almost out -of breath. - -What! out of breath by keeping still? Yes, because I had been hurrying -hither and thither, doing this and that--doing them so fast for so -many years that I no longer understood how to sit down and keep still -and do nothing inside of me as well as outside. Of course _you_ know -how to keep still, for you are children. And so perhaps you do not -need to take lessons of teacher Toad. But I do, for I am grown up, and -a man, with a world of things to do, a great many of which I do not -need to do at all--if only I would let the toad teach me all he knows. - -So, when I am tired, I will go over to the toad. I will sit at his -feet, where time is nothing, and the worry of work even less. He has -all time and no task. He sits out the hour silent, thinking--I know -not what, nor need to know. So we will sit in silence, the toad and I, -watching Altair burn along the shore of the horizon, and overhead -Arcturus, and the rival fireflies flickering through the leaves of -the apple tree. And as we watch, I shall have time to rest and to -think. Perhaps I shall have a thought, a thought all my own, a rare -thing for any one to have, and worth many an hour of waiting. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS SPRING - - -Out of the multitude of sights, which twelve sights this spring shall -I urge you to see? Why the twelve, of course, that I always look for -most eagerly. And the first of these, I think, is the bluebird. - - -I - -"Have you seen a bluebird yet?" some friend will ask me, as March -comes on. Or it will be, "I have seen my first bluebird!" as if seeing -a first bluebird were something very wonderful and important. And so -it is; for the sight of the first March bluebird is the last sight of -winter and the first sight of spring. The brown of the fertile earth -is on its breast, the blue of the summer sky is on its back, and in -its voice is the clearest, sweetest of all invitations to come out of -doors. - -Where has he spent the winter? Look it up. What has brought him back -so early? Guess at it. What does he say as he calls to you? Listen. -What has John Burroughs written about him? Look it up and read. - - -II - -You must see the skunk-cabbage abloom in the swamp. You need not pick -it and carry it home for the table--just see it. But be sure you see -it. Get down and open the big purple-streaked spathe, as it spears the -cold mud, and look at the "spadix" covered with its tiny but perfect -flowers. Now wait a minute. The woods are still bare; ice may still be -found on the northern slopes, while here before you, like a wedge -splitting the frozen soil, like a spear cleaving through the earth -from the other, the summer, side of the world, is this broad blade of -life letting up almost the first cluster of the new spring's flowers. -Wait a moment longer and you may hear your first bumblebee, as he -comes humming at the door of the cabbage for a taste of new honey and -pollen. - - -III - -Among the other early signs of spring, you should see a flock of -red-winged blackbirds! And what a sight they are upon a snow-covered -field! For often after their return it will snow again, when the -brilliant, shining birds in black with their red epaulets make one of -the most striking sights of the season. - - -IV - -Another bird event that you should witness is the arrival of the -migrating warblers. You will be out one of these early May days when -there will be a stirring of small birds in the bushes at your side, in -the tall trees over your head--everywhere! It is the warblers. You are -in the tide of the tiny migrants--yellow warblers, pine warblers, -myrtle warblers, black-throated green warblers--some of them on their -way from South America to Labrador. You must be in the woods and see -them as they come. - - -V - -You should see the "spice-bush" (wild allspice or fever-bush or -Benjamin-bush) in bloom in the damp March woods. And, besides that, -you should see with your own eyes under some deep, dark forest trees -the blue hepatica and on some bushy hillside the pink arbutus. (For -fear I forget to tell you in the chapter of things to do, let me now -say that you should take a day this spring and go "may-flowering.") - - -VI - -There are four nests that you should see this spring: a hummingbird's -nest, saddled upon the horizontal limb of some fruit or forest tree, -and looking more like a wart on the limb than a nest; secondly, the -nest, eggs rather, of a turtle buried in the soft sand along the -margin of a pond or out in some cultivated field; thirdly, the nest of -a sun-fish (pumpkin-seed) in the shallow water close up along the -sandy shore of the pond; and fourthly, the nest of the red squirrel, -made of fine stripped cedar bark, away up in the top of some tall pine -tree! I mean by this that there are many other interesting -nest-builders besides the birds. Of all the difficult nests to find, -the hummingbird's is the most difficult. When you find one, please -write to me about it. - - -VII - -You should see a "spring peeper," the tiny Pickering's frog--_if you -can_. The marsh and the meadows will be vocal with them, but one of -the hardest things that you will try to do this spring will be to see -the shrill little piper, as he plays his bagpipe in the rushes at your -very feet. But hunt until you do see him. It will sharpen your eyes -and steady your patience for finding other things. - - -VIII - -You should see the sun come up on a May morning. The dawn is always a -wonderful sight, but never at other times attended with quite the -glory, with quite the music, with quite the sweet fragrance, with -quite the wonder of a morning in May. Don't fail to see it. Don't fail -to rise with it. You will feel as if you had wings--something better -even than wings. - - -IX - -You should see a farmer ploughing in a large field--the long straight -furrows of brown earth; the blackbirds following behind after worms; -the rip of the ploughshare; the roll of the soil from the smooth -mould-board--the wealth of it all. For in just such fields is the -wealth of the world, and the health of it, too. Don't miss the sight -of the ploughing. - - -X - -Go again to the field, three weeks later, and see it all green with -sprouting corn, or oats, or one of a score of crops. Then--but in "The -Fall of the Year" I ask you to go once more and see that field all -covered with shocks of ripened corn, shocks that are pitched up and -down its long rows of corn-butts like a vast village of Indian tepees, -each tepee full of golden corn. - - -XI - -You should see, hanging from a hole in some old apple tree, a long -thin snake-skin! It is the latch-string of the great crested -flycatcher. Now why does this bird always use a snake-skin in his -nest? and why does he usually leave it hanging loose outside the hole? -Questions, these, for you to think about. And if you will look sharp, -you will see in even the commonest things questions enough to keep you -thinking as long as you live. - - -XII - -You should see a dandelion. A dandelion? Yes, a dandelion, "fringing -the dusty road with harmless gold." But that almost requires four -eyes--two to see the dandelion and two more to see the gold--the two -eyes in your head, and the two in your imagination. Do you really know -how to see anything? Most persons have eyes, but only a few really -see. This is because they cannot look hard and steadily at anything. -The first great help to real seeing is to go into the woods knowing -what you hope to see--seeing it in your eye, as we say, before you see -it in the out-of-doors. No one would ever see a tree-toad on a mossy -tree or a whip-poor-will among the fallen leaves who did not have -tree-toads and whip-poor-wills in mind. Then, secondly, look at the -thing _hard_ until you see in it something peculiar, something -different from anything like it that you ever saw before. Don't dream -in the woods; don't expect the flowers to tell you their names or the -wild things to come up and ask you to wait while they perform for -you. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -IF YOU HAD WINGS - - -If you had wings, why of course you would wear feathers instead of -clothes, and you might be a crow! And then of course you would steal -corn, and run the risk of getting three of your big wing feathers shot -away. - -All winter long, and occasionally during this spring, I have seen one -of my little band of crows flying about with a big hole in his -wing,--at least three of his large wing feathers gone, shot away -probably last summer,--which causes him to fly with a list or limp, -like an automobile with a flattened tire, or a ship with a shifted -ballast. - -Now for nearly a year that crow has been hobbling about on one whole -and one half wing, trusting to luck to escape his enemies, until he -can get three new feathers to take the places of those that are -missing. "Well, why doesn't he get them?" you ask. If you were that -crow, how would you get them? Can a crow, by taking thought, add three -new feathers to his wing? - -Certainly not. That crow must wait until wing-feather season comes -again, just as an apple tree must wait until apple-growing season -comes to hang its boughs with luscious fruit. The crow has nothing to -do with it. His wing feathers are supplied by Nature once a year -(after the nesting-time), and if a crow loses any of them, even if -right after the new feathers had been supplied, that crow will have to -wait until the season for wing feathers comes around once more--if -indeed he can wait and does not fall a prey to hawk or owl or the -heavy odds of winter. - -But Nature is not going to be hurried on that account, nor caused to -change one jot or tittle from her wise and methodical course. The -Bible says that the hairs of our heads are numbered. So are the -feathers on a crow's body. Nature knows just how many there are -altogether; how many there are of each sort--primaries, secondaries, -tertials, greater coverts, middle coverts, lesser coverts, and -scapulars--in the wing; just how each sort is arranged; just when each -sort is to be moulted and renewed. If Master Crow does not take care -of his clothes, then he will have to go without until the time for a -new suit comes; for Mother Nature won't patch them up as your mother -patches up yours. - -But now this is what I want you to notice and think about: that just -as an apple falls according to a great law of Nature, so a bird's -feathers fall according to a law of Nature. The moon is appointed for -seasons; the sun knoweth his going down; and so light and -insignificant a thing as a bird's feather not only is appointed to -grow in a certain place at a certain time, but also knoweth its -falling off. - -Nothing could look more haphazard, certainly, than the way a hen's -feathers seem to drop off at moulting time. The most forlorn, undone, -abject creature about the farm is the half-moulted hen. There is one -in the chicken-yard now, so nearly naked that she really is ashamed of -herself, and so miserably helpless that she squats in a corner all -night, unable to reach the low poles of the roost. It is a critical -experience with the hen, this moulting of her feathers; and were it -not for the protection of the yard it would be a fatal experience, so -easily could she be captured. Nature seems to have no hand in the -business at all; if she has, then what a mess she is making of it! - -But pick up the hen, study the falling of the feathers carefully, and -lo! here is law and order, every feather as important to Nature as a -star, every quill as a planet, and the old white hen as mightily -looked after by Nature as the round sphere of the universe! - -Once a year, usually after the nesting-season, it seems a physical -necessity for most birds to renew their plumage. - -We get a new suit (some of us) because our old one wears out. That is -the most apparent cause for the new annual suit of the birds. Yet with -them, as with some of us, the feathers go out of fashion, and then the -change of feathers is a mere matter of style, it seems. - -For severe and methodical as Mother Nature must be (and what mother or -teacher or ruler, who has great things to do and a multitude of little -things to attend to, must not be severe and methodical?)--severe, I -say, as Mother Nature must be in looking after her children's clothes, -she has for all that a real motherly heart, it seems. - -For see how she looks after their wedding garments--giving to most of -the birds a new suit, gay and gorgeous, especially to the bridegrooms, -as if fine feathers _did_ make a fine bird! Or does she do all of this -to meet the fancy of the bride, as the scientists tell us? Whether so -or not, it is a fact that among the birds it is the bridegroom who is -adorned for his wife, and sometimes the fine feathers come by a -special moult--an extra suit for him! - -Take Bobolink, for instance. He has two complete moults a year, two -new suits, one of them his wedding suit. Now, as I write, I hear him -singing over the meadow--a jet-black, white, and cream-buff lover, -most strikingly adorned. His wife, down in the grass, looks as little -like him as a sparrow looks like a blackbird. But after the -breeding-season he will moult again, changing color so completely that -he and his wife and children will all look alike, all like sparrows, -and will even lose their names, flying south now under the name of -"reed-birds." - -Bobolink passes the winter in Brazil; and in the spring, just before -the long northward journey begins, he lays aside his fall traveling -clothes and puts on his gay wedding garments and starts north for his -bride. But you would hardly know he was so dressed, to look at him; -for, strangely enough, he is not black and white, but still colored -like a sparrow, as he was in the fall. _Apparently_ he is. Look at him -more closely, however, and you will find that the brownish-yellow -color is all caused by a veil of fine fringes hanging from the edges -of the feathers. The bridegroom wearing the wedding veil? Yes! -Underneath is the black and white and cream-buff suit. He starts -northward; and, by the time he reaches Massachusetts, the fringe veil -is worn off and the black and white bobolink appears. Specimens taken -after their arrival here still show traces of the brownish-yellow -veil. - -Many birds do not have this early spring moult at all; and with most -of those that do, the great wing feathers are not then renewed as are -bobolink's, but only at the annual moult after the nesting is done. -The great feathers of the wings are, as you know, the most important -feathers a bird has; and the shedding of them is so serious a matter -that Nature has come to make the change according to the habits and -needs of the birds. With most birds the body feathers begin to go -first, then the wing feathers, and last those of the tail. But the -shedding of the wing feathers is a very slow and carefully regulated -process. - -In the wild geese and other water birds the wing feathers drop out -with the feathers of the body, and go so nearly together that the -birds really cannot fly. On land you could catch the birds with your -hands. But they keep near or on the water and thus escape, though -times have been when it was necessary to protect them at this season -by special laws; for bands of men would go into their nesting-marshes -and kill them with clubs by hundreds! - -The shedding of the feathers brings many risks to the birds; but -Nature leaves none of her children utterly helpless. The geese at this -time cannot fly because their feathers are gone; but they can swim, -and so get away from most of their natural enemies. On the other hand, -the hawks that hunt by wing, and must have wings always in good -feather, or else perish, lose their feathers so slowly that they never -feel their loss. It takes a hawk nearly a year to get a complete -change of wing feathers, one or two dropping out from each wing at a -time, at long intervals apart. - -Then here is the gosling, that goes six weeks in down, before it gets -its first feathers, which it sheds within a few weeks, in the fall. -Whereas the young quail is born with quills so far grown that it is -able to fly almost as soon as it is hatched. These are real mature -feathers; but the bird is young and soon outgrows these first flight -feathers, so they are quickly lost and new ones come. This goes on -till fall, _several_ moults occurring the first summer to meet the -increasing weight of the little quail's growing body. - -I said that Nature was severe and methodical, and so she is, where she -needs to be, so severe that you are glad, perhaps, that you are not a -crow. But Nature, like every wise mother, is severe only where she -needs to be. A crow's wing feathers are vastly important to him. Let -him then take care of them, for they are the best feathers made and -are put in to stay a year. But a crow's tail feathers are not so -vastly important to him; he could get on, if, like the rabbit in the -old song, he had no tail at all. - -In most birds the tail is a kind of balance or steering-gear, and not -of equal importance with the wings. Nature, consequently, seems to -have attached less importance to the feathers of the tail. They are -not so firmly set, nor are they of the same quality or kind; for, -unlike the wing feathers, if a tail feather is lost through accident, -it is made good, no matter when. How do you explain that? Do you think -I believe that old story of the birds roosting with their tails out, -so that, because of generations of lost tails, those feathers now grow -expecting to be plucked by some enemy, and therefore have only a -temporary hold? - -The normal, natural way, of course, is to replace a lost feather with -a new one as soon as possible. But, in order to give extra strength to -the wing feathers, Nature has found it necessary to check their -frequent change; and so complete is the check that the annual moult is -required to replace a single one. The Japanese have discovered the -secret of this check, and are able by it to keep certain feathers in -the tails of their cocks growing until they reach the enormous length -of ten to twelve feet. - -My crow, it seems, lost his three feathers last summer just after his -annual moult; the three broken shafts he carries still in his wing, -and must continue to carry, as the stars must continue their courses, -until those three feathers have rounded out their cycle to the annual -moult. The universe of stars and feathers is a universe of law, of -order, and of reason. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS SPRING - - -I do not know where to begin--there are so many interesting things to -do this spring! But, while we ought to be interested in all of the -out-of-doors, it is very necessary to select some _one_ field, say, -the birds or flowers, for _special_ study. That would help us to -decide what to do this spring. - - -I - -If there is still room under your window, or on the clothes-pole in -your yard, or in a neighboring tree, nail up another bird-house. (Get -"Methods of Attracting Birds" by Gilbert H. Trafton.) If the -bird-house is on a pole or post, invert a large tin pan over the end -of the post and nail the house fast upon it. This will keep cats and -squirrels from disturbing the birds. If the bird-house is in a tree, -saw off a limb, if you can without hurting the tree, and do the same -there. Cats are our birds' worst enemies. - - -II - -Cats! Begin in your own home and neighborhood a campaign against the -cats, to reduce their number and to educate their owners to the need -of keeping them well fed and shut up in the house from early evening -until after the early morning; for these are the cats' natural hunting -hours, when they do the greatest harm to the birds. - -This does not mean any cruelty to the cat--no stoning, no persecution. -The cat is not at fault. It is the keepers of the cats who need to be -educated. Out of every hundred nests in my neighborhood the cats of -two farmhouses destroy ninety-five! The state must come to the rescue -of the birds by some new rigid law reducing the number of cats. - - -III - -Speaking of birds, let me urge you to begin your watching and study -early--with the first robins and bluebirds--and to select some near-by -park or wood-lot or meadow to which you can go frequently. There is a -good deal in getting intimately acquainted with a locality, so that -you know its trees individually, its rocks, walls, fences, the very -qualities of its soil. Therefore you want a small area, close at hand. -Most observers make the mistake of roaming first here, then there, -spending their time and observation in finding their way around, -instead of upon the birds to be seen. You must get used to your paths -and trees before you can see the birds that flit about them. - - -IV - -In this haunt that you select for your observation, you must study not -only the birds but the trees, and the other forms of life, and the -shape of the ground (the "lay" of the land) as well, so as to know -_all_ that you see. In a letter just received from a teacher, who is -also a college graduate, occurs this strange description: "My window -faces a hill on which straggle brown houses among the deep green of -elms or oaks or maples, I don't know which." Perhaps the hill is far -away; but I suspect that the writer, knowing my love for the -out-of-doors, wanted to give me a vivid picture, but, not knowing one -tree from another, put them all in so I could make my own choice! - -Learn your common trees, common flowers, common bushes, common -animals, along with the birds. - - -V - -Plant a garden, if only a pot of portulacas, and _care_ for it, and -watch it grow! Learn to dig in the soil and to love it. It is amazing -how much and how many things you can grow in a box on the window-sill, -or in a corner of the dooryard. There are plants for the sun and -plants for the shade, plants for the wall, plants for the very cellar -of your house. Get you a bit of earth and plant it, no matter how busy -you are with other things this spring. - - -VI - -There are four excursions that you should make this spring: one to a -small pond in the woods; one to a deep, wild swamp; one to a wide -salt marsh or fresh-water meadow; and one to the seashore--to a wild -rocky or sandy shore uninhabited by man. - -There are particular birds and animals as well as plants and flowers -that dwell only in these haunts; besides, you will get a sight of four -distinct kinds of landscape, four deep impressions of the face of -nature that are altogether as good to have as the sight of four -flowers or birds. - - -VII - -Make a calendar of _your_ spring (read "Nature's Diary" by Francis H. -Allen)--when and where you find your first bluebird, robin, oriole, -etc.; when and where you find your first hepatica, arbutus, saxifrage, -etc.; and, as the season goes on, when and where the doings of the -various wild things take place. - - -VIII - -Boy or girl, you should go fishing--down to the pond or the river -where you go to watch the birds. Suppose you do not catch any fish. -That doesn't matter; for you have gone out to the pond with a pole in -your hands (a pole is a _real_ thing); you have gone with the _hope_ -(hope is a _real_ thing) of catching _fish_ (fish are _real_ things); -and even if you catch no fish, you will be sure, as you wait for the -fish to bite, to hear a belted kingfisher, or see a painted turtle, or -catch the breath of the sweet leaf-buds and clustered catkins opening -around the wooded pond. It is a very good thing for the young -naturalist to learn to sit still. A fish-pole is a great help in -learning that necessary lesson. - - -IX - -One of the most interesting things you can do for special study is to -collect some frogs' eggs from the pond and watch them grow into -tadpoles and on into frogs. There are glass vessels made particularly -for such study (an ordinary glass jar will do). If you can afford a -small glass aquarium, get one and with a few green water plants put in -a few minnows, a snail or two, a young turtle, water-beetles, and -frogs' eggs, and watch them grow. - - -X - -You should get up by half past three o'clock (at the earliest streak -of dawn) and go out into the new morning with the birds! You will -hardly recognize the world as that in which your humdrum days (there -are no such days, really) are spent! All is fresh, all is new, and the -bird-chorus! "Is it possible," you will exclaim, "that this can be the -earth?" - -Early morning and toward sunset are the best times of the day for -bird-study. But if there was not a bird, there would be the sunrise -and the sunset--the wonder of the waking, the peace of the closing, -day. - - -XI - -I am not going to tell you that you should make a collection of -beetles or butterflies (you should _not_ make a collection of birds or -birds' eggs) or of pressed flowers or of minerals or of arrow-heads or -of--anything. Because, while such a collection is of great interest -and of real value in teaching you names and things, still there are -better ways of studying living nature. For instance, I had rather -have you tame a hop-toad, feed him, watch him evening after evening -all summer, than make any sort of dead or dried or pressed collection -of anything. Live things are better than those things dead. Better -know one live toad under your doorstep than bottle up in alcohol all -the reptiles of your state. - - -XII - -Finally you should remember that kindliness and patience and close -watching are the keys to the out-of-doors; that only sympathy and -gentleness and quiet are welcome in the fields and woods. What, then, -ought I to say that you should do finally? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE PALACE IN THE PIG-PEN - - -"You have taken a handful of my wooded acres," says Nature to me, "and -if you have not improved them, you at least have changed them greatly. -But they are mine still. Be friendly now, go softly, and you shall -have them all--and I shall have them all, too. We will share them -together." - -And we do. Every part of the fourteen acres is mine, yielding some -kind of food or fuel or shelter. And every foot, yes, every foot, is -Nature's; as entirely hers as when the thick primeval forest stood -here. The apple trees are hers as much as mine, and she has ten -different bird families that I know of, living in them this spring. A -pair of crows and a pair of red-tailed hawks are nesting in the -wood-lot; there are at least three families of chipmunks in as many of -my stone-piles; a fine old tree-toad sleeps on the porch under the -climbing rose; a hornet's nest hangs in a corner of the eaves; a small -colony of swifts thunder in the chimney; swallows twitter in the -hay-loft; a chipmunk and a half-tame gray squirrel feed in the barn; -and--to bring an end to this bare beginning--under the roof of the -pig-pen dwell a pair of phoebes. - -To make a bird-house of a pig-pen, to divide it between the pig and -the bird--this is as far as Nature can go, and this is certainly -enough to redeem the whole farm. For she has not sent an outcast or a -scavenger to dwell in the pen, but a bird of character, however much -he may lack in song or color. Phoebe does not make up well in a -picture; neither does he perform well as a singer; there is little to -him, in fact, but personality--personality of a kind and (may I say?) -quantity, sufficient to make the pig-pen a decent and respectable -neighborhood. - -Phoebe is altogether more than his surroundings. Every time I go to -feed the pig, he lights upon a post near by and says to me, "It's what -you are! Not what you do, but how you do it!"--with a launch into the -air, a whirl, an unerring snap at a cabbage butterfly, and an easy -drop to the post again, by way of illustration. "Not where you live, -but how you live there; not the feathers you wear, but how you wear -them--it is what you are that counts!" - -There is a difference between being a "character" and having one. My -phoebe "lives over the pig," but I cannot feel familiar with a bird -of his air and carriage, who faces the world so squarely, who settles -upon a stake as if he owned it, who lives a prince in my pig-pen. - -Look at him! How alert, able, free! Notice the limber drop of his -tail, the ready energy it suggests. By that one sign you would know -the bird had force. He is afraid of nothing, not even the cold; and he -migrates only because he is a flycatcher, and is thus compelled to. -The earliest spring day, however, that you find the flies buzzing in -the sun, look for phoebe. He is back, coming alone and long before -it is safe. He was one of the first of my birds to return this spring. - -And it was a fearful spring, this of which I am telling you. How -Phoebe managed to exist those miserable March days is a mystery. He -came directly to the pen as he had come the year before, and his -presence in that bleakest of Marches gave the weather its only touch -of spring. - -The same force and promptness are manifest in the domestic affairs of -the bird. One of the first to arrive this spring, he was the first to -build and bring off a brood--or, perhaps, _she_ was. And the size of -the brood--of the broods, for there was a second, and a third! - -Phoebe appeared without his mate, and for nearly three weeks he -hunted in the vicinity of the pen, calling the day long, and, toward -the end of the second week, occasionally soaring into the air, -fluttering, and pouring forth a small, ecstatic song that seemed -fairly forced from him. - -These aerial bursts meant just one thing: _she_ was coming, was coming -soon! Was she coming or was he getting ready to go for her? Here he -had been for nearly three weeks, his house-lot chosen, his mind at -rest, his heart beating faster with every sunrise. It was as plain as -day that he knew--was certain--just how and just when something lovely -was going to happen. I wished I knew. I was half in love with her -myself; and I, too, watched for her. - -On the evening of April 14th, he was alone as usual. The next morning -a pair of phoebes flitted in and out of the windows of the pen. Here -she was. Will some one tell me all about it? Had she just come along -and fallen instantly in love with him and his fine pig-pen? It is -pretty evident that he nested here last year. Was she, then, his old -mate? Did they keep together all through the autumn and winter? If so, -then why not together all the way back from Florida to Massachusetts? - -Here is a pretty story. But who will tell it to me? - -For several days after she came, the weather continued raw and wet, so -that nest-building was greatly delayed. The scar of an old, last -year's nest still showed on a stringer, and I wondered if they had -decided on this or some other site for the new nest. They had not made -up their minds, for when they did start it was to make three -beginnings in as many places. - -Then I offered a suggestion. Out of a bit of stick, branching at right -angles, I made a little bracket and tacked it up on one of the -stringers. It appealed to them at once, and from that moment the -building went steadily on. - -Saddled upon this bracket, and well mortared to the stringer, the -nest, when finished, was as safe as a castle. And how perfect a thing -it was! Few nests, indeed, combine the solidity, the softness, and the -exquisite inside curve of Phoebe's. - -In placing the bracket, I had carelessly nailed it under one of the -cracks in the loose board roof. The nest was receiving its first -linings when there came a long, hard rain that beat through the crack -and soaked the little cradle. This was serious, for a great deal of -mud had been worked into the thick foundation, and here, in the -constant shade, the dampness would be long in drying out. - -The builders saw the mistake, too, and with their great good sense -immediately began to remedy it. They built the bottom up thicker, -carried the walls over on a slant that brought the outermost point -within the line of the crack, then raised them until the cup was as -round-rimmed and hollow as the mould of Mrs. Phoebe's breast could -make it. - -The outside of the nest, its base, is broad and rough and shapeless -enough; but nothing could be softer and lovelier than the inside, the -cradle, and nothing drier, for the slanting walls of the nest shed -every drop from the leafy crack above. - -Wet weather followed the heavy rain until long after the nest was -finished. The whole structure was as damp and cold as a newly -plastered house. It felt wet to my touch. Yet I noticed that the birds -were already brooding. Every night and often during the day I would -see one of them in the nest--so deep in, that only a head or a tail -showed over the round rim. - -After several days I looked to see the eggs, but to my surprise found -the nest empty. It had been robbed, I thought, yet by what creature I -could not imagine. Then down cuddled one of the birds again--and I -understood. Instead of wet and cold, the nest to-day was warm to my -hand, and dry almost to the bottom. It had changed color, too, all the -upper part having turned a soft silver-gray. She (I am sure it was -she) had not been brooding her eggs at all; she had been brooding her -mother's thought of them; and for them had been nestling here these -days and nights, _drying and warming_ their damp cradle with the fire -of her life and love. - -In due time the eggs came,--five of them, white, spotless, and -shapely. While the little phoebe hen was hatching them, I gave my -attention further to the cock. - -Our intimate friendship revealed a most pleasing nature in phoebe. -Perhaps such close and continued association would show like qualities -in every bird, even in the kingbird; but I fear only a woman, like -Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, could find them in him. Not much can be said -of this flycatcher family, except that it is useful--a kind of virtue -that gets its chief reward in heaven. I am acquainted with only four -of the other nine Eastern members,--crested flycatcher, kingbird, wood -pewee, and chebec,--and each of these has some redeeming attribute -besides the habit of catching flies. - -They are all good nest-builders, good parents, and brave, independent -birds; but aside from phoebe and pewee--the latter in his small way -the sweetest voice of the oak woods--the whole family is an odd lot, -cross-grained, cross-looking, and about as musical as a family of -ducks. A duck seems to know that he cannot sing. A flycatcher knows -nothing of his shortcomings. He believes he can sing, and in time he -will prove it. If desire and effort count for anything, he certainly -must prove it in time. How long the family has already been training, -no one knows. Everybody knows, however, the success each flycatcher of -them has thus far attained. It would make a good minstrel show, -doubtless, if the family would appear together. In chorus, surely, -they would be far from a tuneful choir. Yet individually, in the wide -universal chorus of the out-of-doors, how much we should miss the -kingbird's metallic twitter and the chebec's insistent call! - -There was little excitement for phoebe during this period of -incubation. He hunted in the neighborhood and occasionally called to -his mate, contented enough perhaps, but certainly sometimes appearing -tired. - -[Illustration: PHOEBE AND HER YOUNG] - -One rainy day he sat in the pig-pen window looking out at the gray, -wet world. He was humped and silent and meditative, his whole attitude -speaking the extreme length of his day, the monotony of the drip, -drip, drip from the eaves, and the sitting, the ceaseless sitting, of -his brooding wife. He might have hastened the time by catching a few -flies for her or by taking her place on the nest; but I never saw him -do it. - -Things were livelier when the eggs hatched, for it required a good -many flies a day to keep the five young ones growing. And how they -grew! Like bread sponge in a pan, they began to rise, pushing the -mother up so that she was forced to stand over them; then pushing her -out until she could cling only to the side of the nest at night; then -pushing her off altogether. By this time they were hanging to the -outside themselves, covering the nest from sight almost, until finally -they spilled off upon their wings. - -Out of the nest upon the air! Out of the pen and into a sweet, wide -world of green and blue and of golden light! I saw one of the broods -take this first flight, and it was thrilling. - -The nest was placed back from the window and below it, so that in -leaving the nest the young would have to drop, then turn and fly up to -get out. Below was the pig. - -As they grew, I began to fear that they might try their wings before -this feat could be accomplished, and so fall to the pig below. But -Nature, in this case, was careful of her pearls. Day after day they -clung to the nest, even after they might have flown; and when they did -go, it was with a sure and long flight that carried them out and away -to the tops of the neighboring trees. - -They left the nest one at a time and were met in the air by their -mother, who, darting to them, calling loudly, and, whirling about -them, helped them as high and as far away as they could go. - -I wish the simple record of these family affairs could be closed -without one tragic entry. But that can rarely be of any family. Seven -days after the first brood were awing, I found the new eggs in the -nest. Soon after that the male bird disappeared. The second brood had -now been out a week, and in all that time no sight or sound was had of -the father. - -What happened? Was he killed? Caught by a cat or a hawk? It is -possible; and this is an easy and kindly way to think of him. It is -not impossible that he may have remained as leader and protector to -the first brood; or (perish the thought!) might he have grown weary at -sight of the second lot of five eggs, of the long days and the neglect -that they meant for him, and out of jealousy and fickleness wickedly -deserted? - -I hope it was death, a stainless, even ignominious death by one of my -neighbor's many cats. - -Death or desertion, it involved a second tragedy. Five such young ones -at this time were too many for the mother. She fought nobly; no mother -could have done more. All five were brought within a few days of -flight; then, one day, I saw a little wing hanging listlessly over the -side of the nest. I went closer. One had died. It had starved to -death. There were none of the parasites in the nest that often kill -whole broods. It was a plain case of sacrifice,--by the mother, -perhaps; by the other young, maybe--one for the other four. - -But she did well. Nine such young birds to her credit since April. Who -shall measure her actual use to the world? How does she compare in -value with the pig? Weeks later I saw several of her brood along the -meadow fence hawking for flies. They were not far from my -cabbage-patch. - -I hope a pair of them will return to me next spring and that they will -come early. Any bird that deigns to dwell under roof of mine commands -my friendship. But no other bird takes Phoebe's place in my -affections; there is so much in him to like, and he speaks for so much -of the friendship of nature. - -"Humble and inoffensive bird" he has been called by one of our leading -ornithologies--because he comes to my pig-pen! Inoffensive! this bird -with the cabbage butterfly in his beak! The faint and damning praise! -And humble? There is not a humble feather on his body. Humble to -those who see the pen and not the bird. But to me--why, the bird has -made a palace of my pig-pen! - -The very pig seems less a pig because of this exquisite association; -and the lowly work of feeding the creature has been turned for me by -Phoebe into a poetic course in bird study. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -IS IT A LIFE OF FEAR? - - -There was a swish of wings, a flash of gray, a cry of pain; a -squawking, cowering, scattering flock of hens; a weakly fluttering -pullet; and yonder, swinging upward into the sky, a marsh hawk, -buoyant and gleaming silvery in the sun. Over the trees he beat, -circled once, and disappeared. - -The hens were still flapping for safety in a dozen directions, but the -gray harrier had gone. A bolt of lightning could hardly have dropped -so unannounced, could hardly have vanished so completely, could -scarcely have killed so quickly. I ran to the pullet, but found her -dead. The harrier's stroke, delivered with fearful velocity, had laid -head and neck open as with a keen knife. Yet a little slower and he -would have missed, for the pullet warded off the other claw with her -wing. The gripping talons slipped off the long quills, and the hawk -swept on without his quarry. He dared not come back for it at my feet; -so, with a single turn above the woods he was gone. - -The scurrying hens stopped to look about them. There was nothing in -the sky to see. They stood still and silent a moment. The rooster -_chucked_. Then one by one they turned back into the open pasture. A -huddled group under the hen-yard fence broke up and came out with the -others. Death had flashed among them, but had missed _them_. Fear had -come, but it had gone. Within two minutes from the fall of the stroke, -every hen in the flock was intent at her scratching, or as intently -chasing the gray grasshoppers over the pasture. - -Yet, as the flock scratched, the high-stepping cock would frequently -cast up his eye toward the tree-tops; would sound his alarum at the -flight of a robin; and if a crow came over, he would shout and dodge -and start to run. But instantly the shadow would pass, and instantly -Chanticleer-- - - "He looketh as it were a grym leoun, - And on hise toos he rometh up and doun; - * * * * * - Thus roial as a prince is in an halle." - -He wasn't afraid. Cautious, alert, watchful he was, but not afraid. No -shadow of dread lay dark and ominous across the sunshine of his -pasture. Shadows came--like a flash; and like a flash they vanished -away. - -We cannot go far into the fields without sighting the hawk and the -snake, whose other names are Death. In one form or another Death moves -everywhere, down every wood-path and pasture-lane, through the black -waters of the mill-pond, out under the open of the April sky, night -and day, and every day, the four seasons through. - -I have seen the still surface of a pond break suddenly with a swirl, -and flash a hundred flecks of silver into the light, as the minnows -leap from the jaws of the terrible pike. Then a loud rattle, a streak -of blue, a splash at the centre of the swirl, and I see the pike -twisting and bending in the beak of the terrible kingfisher. The -killer is killed. But at the mouth of the nest-hole in the steep -sand-bank, swaying from a root in the edge of the turf above, hangs -the terrible black snake, the third killer; and the belted kingfisher, -dropping the pike, darts off with a startled cry. - -I have been afield at times when one tragedy has followed another in -such rapid and continuous succession as to put a whole shining, -singing, blossoming springtime under a pall. Everything has seemed to -cower, skulk, and hide, to run as if pursued. There was no peace, no -stirring of small life, not even in the quiet of the deep pines; for -here a hawk would be nesting, or a snake would be sleeping, or I -would hear the passing of a fox, see perhaps his keen, hungry face an -instant as he halted, winding me. - -There is struggle, and pain, and death in the woods, and there is fear -also, but the fear does not last long; it does not haunt and follow -and terrify; it has no being, no shape, no lair. The shadow of the -swiftest scudding cloud is not so fleeting as this Fear-shadow in the -woods. The lowest of the animals seem capable of feeling fear; yet the -very highest of them seem incapable of dreading it. For them Fear is -not of the imagination, but of the sight, and of the passing moment. - - "The present only toucheth thee!" - -It does more, it throngs him--our little fellow mortal of the -stubble-field. Into the present is lived the whole of his life--he -remembers none of it; he anticipates none of it. And the whole of this -life is action; and the whole of this action is joy. The moments of -fear in an animal's life are few and vanishing. Action and joy are -constant, the joint laws of all animal life, of all nature--of the -shining stars that sing together, of the little mice that squeak -together, of the bitter northeast storms that roar across the wintry -fields. - -I have had more than one hunter grip me excitedly, and with almost a -command bid me hear the music of the baying pack. There are hollow -halls in the swamps that lie to the east and north and west of me, -that catch up the cry of the foxhounds, that blend it, mellow it, -round it, and roll it, rising and falling over the meadows in great -globes of sound, as pure and sweet as the pearly notes of the veery -rolling round their silver basin in the summer dusk. - -What music it is when the pack breaks into the open on the warm trail! -A chorus then of tongues singing the ecstasy of pursuit! My blood -leaps; the natural primitive wild thing of muscle and nerve and -instinct within me slips its leash, and on past with the pack I drive, -the scent of the trail single and sweet in my nostrils, a very fire in -my blood, motion, motion, motion in my bounding muscles, and in my -being a mighty music, spheric and immortal! - - "The fair music that all creatures made - To their great Lord, whose love their motions swayed...." - -But what about the fox, loping wearily on ahead? What part has he in -the chorus? No part, perhaps, unless we grimly call him its conductor. -But the point is the chorus--that it never ceases, the hounds at this -moment, not the fox, in the leading rôle. - -"But the chorus ceases for me," you say. "My heart is with the poor -fox." So is mine, and mine is with the dogs too. No, don't say "Poor -little fox!" For many a night I have bayed with the pack, and as -often--oftener, I think--I have loped and dodged and doubled with the -fox, pitting limb against limb, lung against lung, wit against wit, -and always escaping. More than once, in the warm moonlight, I, the -fox, have led them on and on, spurring their lagging muscles with a -sight of my brush, on and on, through the moonlit night, through the -day, on into the moon again, and on until--only the stir of my own -footsteps has followed me. Then, doubling once more, creeping back a -little upon my track, I have looked at my pursuers, silent and stiff -upon the trail, and, ere the echo of their cry has died away, I have -caught up the chorus and carried it single-throated through the -wheeling, singing spheres. - -There is more of fact than of fancy to this. That a fox ever purposely -led a dog to run to death would be hard to prove; but that the dogs -run themselves to death in a single extended chase after a single fox -is a common occurrence here in the woods about the farm. Occasionally -the fox may be overtaken by the hounds; seldom, however, except in the -case of a very young one or of one unacquainted with the lay of the -land, a stranger that may have been driven into the rough country -here. - -I have been both fox and hound; I have run the race too often not to -know that both enjoy it at times, fox as much as hound. Some weeks ago -the dogs carried a young fox around and around the farm, hunting him -here, there, everywhere, as if in a game of hide-and-seek. An old fox -would have led the dogs on a long coursing run across the range. But -the young fox, after the dogs were caught and taken off the trail, -soon sauntered up through the mowing-field behind the barn, came out -upon the bare knoll near the house, and sat there in the moonlight -yapping down at Rex and Dewey, the house-dogs in the two farms below. -Rex is a Scotch collie, Dewey a dreadful mix of dog-dregs. He had been -tail-ender in the pack for a while during the afternoon. Both dogs -answered back at the young fox. But he could not egg them on. Rex was -too fat, Dewey had had enough; not so the young fox. It had been fun. -He wanted more. "Come on, Dewey!" he cried. "Come on, Rex, play tag -again! You're still 'it.'" - -I was at work with my chickens one spring day when the fox broke from -cover in the tall woods, struck the old wagon-road along the ridge, -and came at a gallop down behind the hen-coops, with five hounds not a -minute behind. They passed with a crash and were gone--up over the -ridge and down into the east swamp. Soon I noticed that the pack had -broken, deploying in every direction, beating the ground over and -over. Reynard had given them the slip--on the ridge-side, evidently, -for there were no cries from below in the swamp. - -Leaving my work at noon, I went down to restake my cow in the meadow. -I had just drawn her chain-pin when down the road through the orchard -behind me came the fox, hopping high up and down, his neck stretched, -his eye peeled for poultry. Spying a white hen of my neighbor's, he -made for her, clear to the barnyard wall. Then, hopping higher for a -better view, he sighted another hen in the front yard, skipped in -gayly through the fence, seized her, and loped across the road and -away up the birch-grown hills beyond. - -The dogs had been at his very heels ten minutes before. He had fooled -them. And no doubt he had done it again and again. They were even now -yelping at the end of the baffling trail behind the ridge. Let them -yelp. It is a kind and convenient habit of dogs, this yelping, one can -tell so exactly where they are. Meantime one can take a turn for one's -self at the chase, get a bite of chicken, a drink of water, a wink or -two of rest, and when the yelping gets warm again, one is quite ready -to pick up one's heels and lead the pack another merry dance. The fox -is quite a jolly fellow. - -This is the way the races out of doors are all run off. Now and then -they may end tragically. A fox cannot reckon on the hunter with a gun. -He is racing against the pack of hounds. But, mortal finish or no, the -spirit of the chase is neither rage nor terror, but the excitement of -a matched game, the ecstasy of pursuit for the hound, the passion of -escape for the fox, without fury or fear--except for the instant at -the start and at the finish--when it is a finish. - -This is the spirit of the chase--of the race, more truly; for it is -always a race, where the stake is not life and death, but rather the -joy of winning. The hound cares as little for his own life as for the -life of the fox he is hunting. It is the race, instead, that he loves; -it is the moments of crowded, complete, supreme existence for -him--"glory" we call it when men run it off together. Death, and the -fear of death, the animals can neither understand nor feel. Only -enemies exist in the world out of doors, only hounds, foxes, -hawks--they, and their scents, their sounds and shadows; and not fear, -but readiness only. The level of wild life, of the soul of all nature, -is a great serenity. It is seldom lowered, but often raised to a -higher level, intenser, faster, more exultant. - -The serrate pines on my horizon are not the pickets of a great pen. My -fields and swamps and ponds are not one wide battle-field, as if the -only work of my wild neighbors were bloody war, and the whole of their -existence a reign of terror. This is a universe of law and order and -marvelous balance; conditions these of life, of normal, peaceful, -joyous life. Life and not death is the law; joy and not fear is the -spirit, is the frame of all that breathes, of very matter itself. - - "And ever at the loom of Birth - The Mighty Mother weaves and sings; - She weaves--fresh robes for mangled earth; - She sings--fresh hopes for desperate things." - -But suppose the fox were a defenseless rabbit, what of fear and terror -then? - -Ask any one who has shot in the rabbity fields of southern New Jersey. -The rabbit seldom runs in blind terror. He is soft-eyed, and timid, -and as gentle as a pigeon, but he is not defenseless. A nobler set of -legs was never bestowed by nature than the little cottontail's. They -are as wings compared with the bent, bow legs that bear up the -ordinary rabbit-hound. With winged legs, protecting color, a clear map -of the country in his head,--its stumps, railpiles, cat-brier tangles, -and narrow rabbit-roads,--with all this as a handicap, Bunny may well -run his usual cool and winning race. The balance is just as even, the -chances quite as good, and the contest every bit as interesting to him -as to Reynard. - -I have seen a rabbit squat close in his form and let a hound pass -yelping within a few feet of him, but waiting on his toes as ready as -a hair-trigger should he be discovered. - -I have seen him leap for his life as the dog sighted him, and, -bounding like a ball across the stubble, disappear in the woods, the -hound within two jumps of his flashing tail. I have waited at the end -of the wood-road for the runners to come back, down the home-stretch, -for the finish. On they go through the woods, for a quarter, or -perhaps a half a mile, the baying of the hound faint and intermittent -in the distance, then quite lost. No, there it is again, louder now. -They have turned the course. - -I wait. - -The quiet life of the woods is undisturbed; for the voice of the hound -is only an echo, not unlike the far-off tolling of a slow-swinging -bell. The leaves stir as a wood mouse scurries from his stump; an -acorn rattles down; then in the winding wood-road I hear the _pit-pat, -pit-pat_, of soft furry feet, and there at the bend is the rabbit. He -stops, rises high up on his haunches, and listens. He drops again upon -all fours, scratches himself behind the ear, reaches over the cart-rut -for a nip of sassafras, hops a little nearer, and throws his big ears -forward in quick alarm, for he sees me, and, as if something had -exploded under him, he kicks into the air and is off,--leaving a -pretty tangle for the dog to unravel, later on, by this mighty jump to -the side. - -My children and a woodchopper were witnesses recently of an exciting, -and, for this section of Massachusetts, a novel race, which, but for -them, must certainly have ended fatally. The boys were coming through -the wood-lot where the man was chopping, when down the hillside toward -them rushed a little chipmunk, his teeth a-chatter with terror; for -close behind him, with the easy, wavy motion of a shadow, glided a -dark-brown animal, which the man took on the instant for a mink, but -which must have been a large weasel or a pine marten. When almost at -the feet of the boys, and about to be seized by the marten, the -squeaking chipmunk ran up a tree. Up glided the marten, up for twenty -feet, when the chipmunk jumped. It was a fearfully close call. - -The marten did not dare to jump, but turned and started down, when the -man intercepted him with a stick. Around and around the tree he -dodged, growling and snarling and avoiding the stick, not a bit -abashed, stubbornly holding his own, until forced to seek refuge among -the branches. Meanwhile, the terrified chipmunk had recovered his -nerve and sat quietly watching the sudden turn of affairs from a -near-by stump. - -I frequently climb into the cupola of the barn during the winter, and -bring down a dazed junco that would beat his life out up there against -the window-panes. He will lie on his back in my open hand, either -feigning death or really powerless with fear. His eyes will close, his -whole tiny body throb convulsively with his throbbing heart. Taking -him to the door, I will turn him over and give him a gentle toss. -Instantly his wings flash; they take him zigzag for a yard or two, -then bear him swiftly round the corner of the house and drop him in -the midst of his fellows, where they are feeding upon the lawn. He -will shape himself up a little and fall to picking with the others. - -From a state of collapse the laws of his being bring the bird into -normal behavior as quickly and completely as the collapsed rubber ball -is rounded by the laws of its being. The memory of the fright seems to -be an impression exactly like the dent in the rubber ball--as if it -had never been. - -Memories, of course, the animals surely have; but little or no power -to use them. The dog will sometimes seem to cherish a grudge; so will -the elephant. Some one injures or wrongs him, and the huge beast -harbors the memory, broods it, and awaits his opportunity for revenge. -Yet the records of these cases usually show that the creature had been -living with the object of his hatred--his keeper, perhaps--and that -the memory goes no farther back than the present moment, than the -sight of the hated one. - -At my railroad station I frequently see a yoke of great sleepy, -bald-faced oxen, that look as much alike as two blackbirds. Their -driver knows them apart; but as they stand there, bound to one another -by the heavy bar across their foreheads, it would puzzle anybody else -to tell Buck from Berry. But not if he approach them wearing an -overcoat. At sight of me in an overcoat the off ox will snort and back -and thrash about in terror, twisting the head of his yoke-fellow, -nearly breaking his neck, and trampling him miserably. But the nigh ox -is used to it. He chews and blinks away placidly, keeps his feet the -best he can, and doesn't try to understand at all why greatcoats -should so frighten his cud-chewing brother. I will drop off my coat -and go up immediately to smooth the muzzles of both oxen, now blinking -sleepily while the lumber is being loaded on. - -Years ago, the driver told me, the off ox was badly frightened by a -big woolly coat, the sight or smell of which probably suggested to the -creature some natural enemy, a panther, perhaps, or a bear. The memory -remained, but beyond recall except in the presence of its first cause, -the greatcoat. - -To us there are such things as terror and death, but not to the lower -animals except momentarily. We are clutched by terror even as the -junco was clutched in my goblin hand. When the mighty fingers open, we -zigzag, dazed, from the danger; but fall to planning before the -tremors of the fright have ceased. Upon the crumbled, smoking heap of -San Francisco a second splendid city has arisen and shall ever rise. -Terror can kill the living, but it cannot hinder them from forgetting, -or prevent them from hoping, or, for more than an instant, stop them -from doing. Such is the law of life--the law of heaven, of my -pastures, of the little junco, of myself. Life, Law, and Matter are -all of one piece. The horse in my stable, the robin, the toad, the -beetle, the vine in my garden, the garden itself, and I together with -them all, come out of the same divine dust; we all breathe the same -divine breath; we have our beings under the same divine laws; only -they do not know that the law, the breath, and the dust are divine. -If, with all that I know of fear, I can so readily forget it, and can -so constantly feel the hope and the joy of life within me, how soon -for them, my lowly fellow mortals, must vanish all sight of fear, all -memory of pain! And how abiding with them, how compelling, the -necessity to live! And in their unquestioning obedience, what joy! - -The face of the fields is as changeful as the face of a child. Every -passing wind, every shifting cloud, every calling bird, every baying -hound, every shape, shadow, fragrance, sound, and tremor, are -reflected there. But if time and experience and pain come, they pass -utterly away; for the face of the fields does not grow old or wise or -seamed with pain. It is always the face of a child,--asleep in -winter, awake in spring and summer,--a face of life and health always, -as much in the falling leaf as in the opening bud, as much under the -covers of the snow as in the greensward of the spring, as much in the -wild, fierce joy of fox and hound as they course the turning, tangling -paths of the woodlands in their fateful race as in the song of brook -and bird on a joyous April morning. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE BUZZARD OF THE BEAR SWAMP - - -No, I do not believe that any one of you ever went into a swamp to -find a turkey buzzard's nest. Still, if you had been born on the edge -of a great swamp, as I was, and if the great-winged buzzards had been -soaring, soaring up in your sky, as all through my boyhood they were -soaring up in mine, then why should you not have gone some time into -the swamp to see where they make their nests--these strange -cloud-winged creatures? - -Boys are boys, and girls are girls, the world over; and I am pretty -sure that little Jack Horner and myself were not the only two boys in -all the world to do great and wonderful deeds. Any boy with a love for -birds and a longing for the deep woods, living close to the edge of -the Bear Swamp, would have searched out that buzzard's nest. - -Although I was born within the shadows of the Bear Swamp, close enough -to smell the magnolias along its margin, and lived my first ten years -only a little farther off, yet it was not until after twice ten years -of absence that I stood again within sight of it, ready for the first -time to cross its dark borders and find the buzzard's nest. - -Now here at last I found myself, looking down over the largest, least -trod, deepest-tangled swamp in southern New Jersey--wide, gloomy, -silent, and to me,--for I still thought of it as I used to when a -child,--to me, a mysterious realm of black streams, hollow trees, -animal trails, and haunting shapes, presided over by this great bird, -the turkey buzzard. - -For he was never mere bird to me, but some kind of spirit. He stood to -me for what was far off, mysterious, secret, and unapproachable in the -deep, dark swamp; and, in the sky, so wide were his wings, so majestic -the sweep of his flight, he had always stirred me, caused me to hold -my breath and wish myself to fly. - -No other bird did I so much miss from my New England skies when I came -here to live. Only the other day, standing in the heart of Boston, I -glanced up and saw, sailing at a far height against the billowy -clouds, an aeroplane; and what should I think of but the flight of the -vulture, so like the steady wings of the great bird seemed the steady -wings of this great monoplane far off against the sky. - -And so you begin to understand why I had come back after so many years -to the swamp, and why I wanted to see the nest of this strange bird -that had been flying, flying forever in my imagination and in my sky. -But my good uncle, whom I was visiting, when I mentioned my quest, -merely exclaimed, "What in thunderation!" - -You will find a good many uncles and other folk who won't understand a -good many things that you want to do. Never mind. If you want to see a -buzzard's nest, let all your relations exclaim while you go quietly -off alone and see it. - -I wanted to find a buzzard's nest--the nest of the Bear Swamp buzzard; -and here at last I stood; and yonder on the clouds, a mere mote in the -distance, floated the bird. It was coming toward me over the wide -reach of the swamp. - -Silent, inscrutable, and alien lay the swamp, and untouched by human -hands. Over it spread a quiet and reserve as real as twilight. Like a -mask it was worn, and was slipped on, I know, at my approach. I could -feel the silent spirit of the place drawing back away from me. But I -should have at least a guide to lead me through the shadow land, for -out of the lower living green towered a line of limbless stubs, like a -line of telegraph-poles, their bleached bones gleaming white, or -showing dark and gaunt against the horizon, and marking for me a path -far out across the swamp. Besides, here came the buzzard winding -slowly down the clouds. Soon its spiral changed to a long -pendulum-swing, till just above the skeleton trees the great bird -wheeled and, bracing itself with its flapping wings, dropped heavily -upon one of the headless tree-trunks. - -It had come leisurely, yet I could see that it had come with a -directness and purpose that was unmistakable and also meaningful. It -had discovered me in the distance, and, while still invisible to my -eyes, had started down to perch upon that giant stub in order to watch -me. It was suspicious, and had come to watch me, because somewhere -beneath its perch, I felt sure, lay a hollow log, the creature's den, -holding its two eggs or its young. A buzzard has something like a -soul. - -Marking the direction of the stub, and its probable distance, I waded -into the deep underbrush, the buzzard perched against the sky for my -guide, and, for my quest, the stump or hollow log that held the -creature's nest. - -The rank ferns and ropy vines swallowed me up, and shut out at times -even the sight of the sky and the buzzard. It was not until half an -hour's struggle that, climbing a pine-crested swell in the low bottom, -I sighted the bird again. It had not moved. - -I was now in the real swamp, the old uncut forest. It was a land of -tree giants: huge tulip poplar and swamp white oak, so old that they -had become solitary, their comrades having fallen one by one; while -some of them, unable to loose their grip upon the soil, which had -widened and tightened through centuries, were still standing, though -long since dead. It was upon one of these that the buzzard sat humped. - -Directly in my path stood an ancient swamp white oak, the greatest -tree, I think, that I have ever seen. It was not the highest, nor the -largest round, perhaps, but in years and looks the greatest. Hoary, -hollow, and broken-limbed, his huge bole seemed encircled with the -centuries. - - "For it had bene an auncient tree, - Sacred with many a mysteree." - -Above him to twice his height loomed a tulip poplar, clean-boled for -thirty feet and in the top all green and gold with blossoms. It was a -resplendent thing beside the oak, yet how unmistakably the gnarled old -monarch wore the crown! His girth more than balanced the poplar's -greater height; and, as for blossoms, he had his tiny-flowered -catkins; but nature knows the beauty of strength and inward majesty, -and has pinned no boutonnière upon the oak. - -My buzzard now was hardly more than half a mile away, and plainly seen -through the rifts in the lofty timbered roof above me. As I was -nearing the top of a large fallen pine that lay in my course, I was -startled by the _burrh! burrh! burrh!_ of three partridges taking wing -just beyond, near the foot of the tree. Their exploding flight seemed -all the more like a real explosion when three little clouds of -dust-smoke rose out of the low, _wet_ bottom of the swamp and drifted -up against the green. - -Then I saw an interesting sight. The pine, in its fall, had snatched -with its wide-reaching, multitudinous roots at the shallow bottom and -torn out a giant fistful of earth, leaving a hole about two feet deep -and more than a dozen feet wide. The sand thus lifted into the air had -gradually washed down into a mound on each side of the butt, where it -lay high and dry above the level of the wet swamp. This the swamp -birds had turned into a great dust-bath. It was in constant use, -evidently. Not a spear of grass had sprouted in it, and all over it -were pits and craters of various sizes, showing that not only the -partridges but also the quail and such small things as the warblers -bathed here,--though I can't recall ever having seen a warbler bathe -in the dust. A dry bath in the swamp was something of a luxury, -evidently. I wonder if the buzzards used it? - -I went forward cautiously now, and expectantly, for I was close enough -to see the white beak and red wattled neck of my buzzard guide. The -buzzard saw me, too, and began to twist its head and to twitch its -wing-tips nervously. Then the long, black wings began to open, as you -would open a two-foot rule, and, with a heavy lurch that left the dead -stub rocking, the bird dropped and was soon soaring high up in the -blue. - -This was the locality of the nest; now where should I find it? -Evidently I was to have no further help from the old bird. The -underbrush was so thick that I could hardly see farther than my nose. -A half-rotten tree-trunk lay near, the top end resting across the -backs of several saplings that it had borne down in its fall. I crept -up on this for a look around, and almost tumbled off at finding myself -staring directly into the dark, cavernous hollow of an immense log -lying on a slight rise of ground a few feet ahead of me. - -It was a yawning hole, which at a glance I knew belonged to the -buzzard. The log, a mere shell of a mighty white oak, had been girdled -and felled with an axe, by coon-hunters probably, and still lay with -one side resting upon the rim of the stump. As I stood looking, -something white stirred vaguely in the hole and disappeared. - -Leaping from my perch, I scrambled forward to the mouth of the hollow -log and was greeted with hisses from far back in the dark. Then came a -thumping of bare feet, more hisses, and a sound of snapping beaks. I -had found my buzzard's nest! - -[Illustration: YOUNG TURKEY BUZZARD] - -Hardly that, either, for there was not a feather, stick, or chip as -evidence of a nest. The eggs had been laid upon the sloping cavern -floor, and in the course of their incubation must have rolled clear -down to the opposite end, where the opening was so narrow that the -buzzard could not have brooded them until she had rolled them back. -The wonder is that they had ever hatched. - -But they had, and what they hatched was another wonder. Nature never -intended a young buzzard for any eye but his mother's, and _she_ hates -the sight of him. Elsewhere I have told of a buzzard that devoured her -eggs at the approach of an enemy, so delicately balanced are her -unnamable appetites and her maternal affections! - -The two strange nestlings in the log must have been three weeks old, I -should say, the larger weighing about four pounds. They were covered, -as young owls are, with deep snow-white down, out of which protruded -their black scaly, snaky legs. They stood braced on these long black -legs, their receding heads drawn back, shoulders thrust forward, and -bodies humped between the featherless wings like challenging tom-cats. - -In order to examine them, I crawled into the den--not a difficult act, -for the opening measured four feet and a half across at the mouth. The -air was musty inside, yet surprisingly free from odor. The floor was -absolutely clean, but on the top and sides of the cavity was a thick -coating of live mosquitoes, most of them gorged, hanging like a -red-beaded tapestry over the walls. - -I had taken pains that the flying buzzard should not see me enter, for -I hoped she would descend to look after her young. But she would take -no chances with herself. I sat near the mouth of the hollow, where I -could catch the fresh breeze that pulled across the end, and where I -had a view of a far-away bit of sky. Suddenly, across this field of -blue, there swept a meteor of black--the buzzard! and evidently in -that instant of passage, at a distance certainly of half a mile, she -spied me in the log. - -I waited more than an hour longer, and when I tumbled out with a dozen -kinds of cramps, the unworried mother was soaring serenely far up in -the clear, cool sky. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS SPRING - - -I - -The frogs! You can have no spring until you hear the frogs. The first -shrill notes, heard before the ice is fairly out of the marshes, will -be the waking call of the hylas, the tiny tree-frogs that later on in -the summer you will find in the woods. Then, as the spring advances -and this silvery sleigh-bell jingle tinkles faster, other voices will -join in--the soft croak of the spotted leopard frogs, the still softer -melancholy quaver of the common toad, and away down at the end of the -scale the deep, solemn bass of the great bullfrog saying, "Go round! -Better go round!" - - -II - -You must hear, besides the first spring notes of the bluebird and the -robin, four bird songs this spring. First (1) the song of the wood -thrush or the hermit thrush, whichever one lives in your neighborhood. -No words can describe the purity, the peacefulness, the spiritual -quality of the wood thrush's simple "Come to me." It is the voice of -the tender twilight, the voice of the tranquil forest, speaking to -you. After the thrush (2) the brown thrasher, our finest, most gifted -songster, as great a singer, I think (and I have often heard them -both), as the Southern mockingbird. Then (3) the operatic catbird. She -sits lower down among the bushes than the brown thrasher, as if she -knew that, compared with him, she must take a back seat; but for -variety of notes and length of song, she has few rivals. I say _she_, -when really I ought to say _he_, for it is the males of most birds -that sing, but the catbird seems so long and slender, so dainty and -feminine, that I think of this singer as of some exquisite operatic -singer in a woman's rôle. Then (4) the bobolink; for his song is just -like Bryant's bubbling poem, only better! Go to the meadows in June -and listen as he comes lilting and singing over your head. - - -III - -There are some birds that cannot sing: the belted kingfisher, for -instance; he can only rattle. You must hear him rattle. You can do as -well yourself if you will shake a "pair of bones" or heave an anchor -and let the chain run fast through the hawse-hole. You then must hear -the downy woodpecker doing his rattling _rat-ta-tat-tat-tat-tat_ -(across the page and back again), as fast as _rat-ta-tat_ can _tat_. -How he makes the old dead limb or fence-post rattle as he drums upon -it with his chisel bill. He can be heard half a mile around. - -Then high-hole, the flicker (or golden-winged woodpecker), you must -hear him yell, _Up-up-up-up-up up-up-up-up-up-up_,--a ringing, -rolling, rapid kind of yodel that echoes over the spring fields. - - -IV - -You must hear the nighthawk and the whip-poor-will. Both birds are to -be heard at twilight, and the whip-poor-will far into the night. At -the very break of dawn is also a good time to listen to them. - -At dusk you will see (I have seen him from the city roofs in Boston) a -bird about the size of a pigeon mounting up into the sky by short -flights, crying _peent_, until far over your head the creature will -suddenly turn and on half-closed wings dive headlong toward the -earth, when, just before hitting the ground, upward he swoops, at the -same instant making a weird booming sound, a kind of hollow groan with -his wings, as the wind rushes through their large feathers. This diver -through the dim ocean of air is the nighthawk. Let one of the birds -dive close to your head on a lonely dusky road, and your hair will try -to jump out from under your hat. - -The whip-poor-will's cry you all know. When you hear one this spring, -go out into the twilight and watch for him. See him spring into the -air, like a strange shadow, for flies; count his _whip-poor-wills_ (he -may call it more than a hundred times in as many seconds!). But hear a -circle of the birds, if possible, calling through the darkness of a -wood all around you! - - -V - -There is one strange bird song that is half song and half dance that -perhaps most of you may never be able to hear and see; but as it is -worth going miles to hear, and nights of watching to witness, I am -going to set it here as one of your outdoor tasks or feats: you must -hear the mating song of the woodcock. I have described the song and -the dance in "Roof and Meadow," in the chapter called "One Flew East -and One Flew West." Mr. Bradford Torrey has an account of it in his -"Clerk of the Woods," in the chapter named "Woodcock Vespers." To hear -the song is a rare experience for the habitual watcher in the woods, -but one that you might have the first April evening that you are -abroad. - -Go down to your nearest meadow--a meadow near a swampy piece of woods -is best--and here, along the bank of the meadow stream, wait in the -chilly twilight for the _speank_, _speank_, or the _peent_, _peent_, -from the grass--the signal that the song is about to begin. - - -VI - -One of the dreadful--positively dreadful--sounds of the late spring -that I hear day in and day out is the gobbling, strangling, ghastly -cries of young crows feeding. You will surely think something is being -murdered. The crying of a hungry baby is musical in comparison. But it -is a good sound to hear, for it reminds one of the babes in the -woods--that a new generation of birds is being brought through from -babyhood to gladden the world. It is a tender sound! The year is still -young. - - -VII - -You should hear the hum of the honey-bees on a fresh May day in an -apple tree that is just coming into perfect bloom. The enchanting -loveless of the pink and white world of blossoms is enough to make one -forget to listen to the _hum-hum-hum-humming-ing-ing-ing-ing_ of the -excited bees. But hear their myriad wings, fanning the perfume into -the air and filling the sunshine with the music of work. The whir, the -hum of labor--of a busy factory, of a great steamship dock--is always -music to those who know the blessedness of work; but it takes that -knowledge, and a good deal of imagination besides, to hear the music -in it. Not so with the bees. The season, the day, the colors, and -perfumes--they are the song; the wings are only the million-stringed -æolian upon which the song is played. - - -VIII - -You should hear the grass grow. What! I repeat, you should hear the -grass grow. I have a friend, a sound and sensible man, but a lover of -the out-of-doors, who says he can hear it grow. But perhaps it is the -soft stir of the working earthworms that he hears. Try it. Go out -alone one of these April nights; select a green pasture with a slope -to the south, at least a mile from any house, or railroad; lay your -ear flat upon the grass, listen without a move for ten minutes. You -hear something--or do you feel it? Is it the reaching up of the grass? -is it the stir of the earthworms? is it the pulse of the throbbing -universe? or is it your own throbbing pulse? It is all of these, I -think; call it the heart of the grass beating in every tiny living -blade, if you wish to. You should listen to hear the grass grow. - - -IX - -The fires have gone out on the open hearth. Listen early in the -morning and toward evening for the rumbling, the small, muffled -thunder, of the chimney swallows, as they come down from the open sky -on their wonderful wings. Don't be frightened. It isn't Santa Claus -this time of year; nor is it the Old Nick! The smothered thunder is -caused by the rapid beating of the swallows' wings on the air in the -narrow chimney-flue, as the birds settle down from the top of the -chimney and hover over their nests. Stick your head into the fireplace -and look up! Don't smoke the precious lodgers out, no matter how much -racket they make. - - -X - -Hurry out while the last drops of your first May thunder-shower are -still falling and listen to the robins singing from the tops of the -trees. Their liquid songs are as fresh as the shower, as if the -raindrops in falling were running down from the trees in song--as -indeed they are in the overflowing trout-brook. Go out and listen, and -write a better poem than this one that I wrote the other afternoon -when listening to the birds in our first spring shower:-- - - The warm rain drops aslant the sun - And in the rain the robins sing; - Across the creek in twos and troops, - The hawking swifts and swallows wing. - - The air is sweet with apple bloom, - And sweet the laid dust down the lane, - The meadow's marge of calamus, - And sweet the robins in the rain. - - O greening time of bloom and song! - O fragrant days of tender pain! - The wet, the warm, the sweet young days - With robins singing in the rain. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -TURTLE EGGS FOR AGASSIZ - - -I took down, recently, from the shelves of a great public library, the -four volumes of Agassiz's "Contributions to the Natural History of the -United States." I doubt if anybody but the charwoman, with her duster, -had touched those volumes for twenty-five years. They are a monumental -work, the fruit of vast and heroic labors, with colored plates on -stone, showing the turtles of the United States, and their -life-history. The work was published more than half a century ago, but -it looked old beyond its years--massive, heavy, weathered, as if dug -from the rocks; and I soon turned with a sigh from the weary learning -of its plates and diagrams to look at the preface. - -Then, reading down through the catalogue of human names and of thanks -for help received, I came to a sentence beginning:-- - -"In New England I have myself collected largely; but I have also -received valuable contributions from the late Rev. Zadoc Thompson of -Burlington; ... from Mr. D. Henry Thoreau of Concord; ... and from Mr. -J. W. P. Jenks of Middleboro." And then it hastens on with the thanks -in order to get to the turtles, as if turtles were the one and only -thing of real importance in all the world. - -Turtles are important--interesting; so is the late Rev. Zadoc Thompson -of Burlington. Indeed any reverend gentleman who would catch turtles -for Agassiz must have been interesting. If Agassiz had only put a -chapter into his turtle book about him! and as for the Mr. Jenks of -Middleboro (at the end of the quotation) I know that he was -interesting; for years later, he was an old college professor of mine. -He told me some of the particulars of his turtle contributions, -particulars which Agassiz should have found a place for in his big -book. The preface says merely that this gentleman sent turtles to -Cambridge by the thousands--brief and scanty recognition. For that is -not the only thing this gentleman did. On one occasion he sent, not -turtles, but turtle _eggs_ to Cambridge--_brought_ them, I should say; -and all there is to show for it, so far as I could discover, is a -small drawing of a bit of one of the eggs! - -Of course, Agassiz wanted to make that drawing, and had to have a -_fresh_ turtle egg to draw it from. He had to have it, and he got it. -A great man, when he wants a certain turtle egg, at a certain time, -always gets it, for he gets some one else to get it for him. I am glad -he got it. But what makes me sad and impatient is that he did not -think it worth while to tell us about the getting of it. - -It would seem, naturally, that there could be nothing unusual or -interesting about the getting of turtle eggs when you want them. -Nothing at all, if you should chance to want the eggs as you chance to -find them. So with anything else. But if you want turtle eggs _when_ -you want them, and are bound to have them, then you must--get Mr. -Jenks, or somebody else to get them for you. - -Agassiz wanted those turtle eggs when he wanted them--not a minute -over three hours from the minute they were laid. Yet even that does -not seem exacting, hardly more difficult than the getting of hens' -eggs only three hours old. Just so, provided the professor could have -had his private turtle-coop in Harvard College Yard; and provided he -could have made his turtles lay. But turtles will not respond, like -hens, to meat-scraps and the warm mash. The professor's problem was -not to get from a mud turtle's nest in the back yard to his work-table -in the laboratory; but to get from the laboratory in Cambridge to some -pond when the turtles were laying, and back to the laboratory within -the limited time. And this might have called for nice and -discriminating work--as it did. - -Agassiz had been engaged for a long time upon his "Contributions." He -had brought the great work nearly to a finish. It was, indeed, -finished but for one small yet very important bit of observation: he -had carried the turtle egg through every stage of its development with -the single exception of one--the very earliest. That beginning stage -had brought the "Contributions" to a halt. To get eggs that were fresh -enough to show the incubation at this period had been impossible. - -There were several ways that Agassiz might have proceeded: he might -have got a leave of absence for the spring term, taken his laboratory -to some pond inhabited by turtles, and there camped until he should -catch the reptile digging out her nest. But there were difficulties in -all of that--as those who are college professors and naturalists know. -As this was quite out of the question, he did the easiest thing--asked -Mr. Jenks of Middleboro to get him the eggs. Mr. Jenks got them. -Agassiz knew all about his getting of them; and I say the strange and -irritating thing is, that Agassiz did not think it worth while to tell -us about it, at least in the preface to his monumental work. - -It was many years later that Mr. Jenks, then a gray-haired college -professor, told me how he got those eggs to Agassiz. - -"I was principal of an academy, during my younger years," he began, -"and was busy one day with my classes, when a large man suddenly -filled the doorway of the room, smiled to the four corners of the -room, and called out with a big, quick voice that he was Professor -Agassiz. - -"Of course he was. I knew it, even before he had had time to shout it -to me across the room. - -"Would I get him some turtle eggs? he called. Yes, I would. And would -I get them to Cambridge within three hours from the time they were -laid? Yes, I would. And I did. And it was worth the doing. But I did -it only once. - -"When I promised Agassiz those eggs, I knew where I was going to get -them. I had got turtle eggs there before--at a particular patch of -sandy shore along a pond, a few miles distant from the academy. - -"Three hours was the limit. From the railroad station to Boston was -thirty-five miles; from the pond to the station was perhaps three or -four miles; from Boston to Cambridge we called about three miles. -Forty miles in round numbers! We figured it all out before he -returned, and got the trip down to two hours,--record time:--driving -from the pond to the station; from the station by express train to -Boston; from Boston by cab to Cambridge. This left an easy hour for -accidents and delays. - -"Cab and car and carriage we reckoned into our time-table; but what we -didn't figure on was the turtle." And he paused abruptly. - -"Young man," he went on, his shaggy brows and spectacles hardly hiding -the twinkle in the eyes that were bent severely upon me, "young man, -when _you_ go after turtle eggs, take into account the turtle. No! No! -that's bad advice. Youth never reckons on the turtle--and youth seldom -ought to. Only old age does that; and old age would never have got -those turtle eggs to Agassiz. - -"It was in the early spring that Agassiz came to the academy, long -before there was any likelihood of the turtles' laying. But I was -eager for the quest, and so fearful of failure that I started out to -watch at the pond, fully two weeks ahead of the time that the turtles -might be expected to lay. I remember the date clearly: it was May -14th. - -"A little before dawn--along near three o'clock--I would drive over to -the pond, hitch my horse near by, settle myself quietly among some -thick cedars close to the sandy shore, and there I would wait, my -kettle of sand ready, my eye covering the whole sleeping pond. Here -among the cedars I would eat my breakfast, and then get back in good -season to open the academy for the morning session. - -"And so the watch began. - -"I soon came to know individually the dozen or more turtles that kept -to my side of the pond. Shortly after the cold mist would lift and -melt away, they would stick up their heads through the quiet water; -and as the sun slanted down over the ragged rim of tree-tops, the slow -things would float into the warm lighted spots, or crawl out and doze -comfortably on the hummocks and snags. - -"What fragrant mornings those were! How fresh and new and unbreathed! -The pond odors, the woods odors, the odors of the ploughed fields--of -water-lily, and wild grape, and the dew-laid soil! I can taste them -yet, and hear them yet--the still, large sounds of the waking day--the -pickerel breaking the quiet with his swirl; the kingfisher dropping -anchor; the stir of feet and wings among the trees. And then the -thought of the great book being held up for me! Those were rare -mornings! - -"But there began to be a good many of them, for the turtles showed no -desire to lay. They sprawled in the sun, and never one came out upon -the sand as if she intended to help on the great professor's book. The -story of her eggs was of small concern to her; her contribution to the -Natural History of the United States could wait. - -"And it did wait. I began my watch on the 14th of May; June 1st found -me still among the cedars, still waiting, as I had waited every -morning, Sundays and rainy days alike. June 1st was a perfect morning, -but every turtle slid out upon her log, as if egg-laying might be a -matter strictly of next year. - -"I began to grow uneasy,--not impatient yet, for a naturalist learns -his lesson of patience early, and for all his years; but I began to -fear lest, by some subtile sense, my presence might somehow be known -to the creatures; that they might have gone to some other place to -lay, while I was away at the schoolroom. - -"I watched on to the end of the first week, on to the end of the -second week in June, seeing the mists rise and vanish every morning, -and along with them vanish, more and more, the poetry of my early -morning vigil. Poetry and rheumatism cannot long dwell together in the -same clump of cedars, and I had begun to feel the rheumatism. A month -of morning mists wrapping me around had at last soaked through to my -bones. But Agassiz was waiting, and the world was waiting, for those -turtle eggs and I would wait. It was all I could do, for there is no -use bringing a china nest-egg to a turtle; she is not open to any such -delicate suggestion. - -"Then came a mid-June Sunday morning, with dawn breaking a little -after three: a warm, wide-awake dawn, with the level mist lifted from -the level surface of the pond a full hour higher than I had seen it -any morning before. - -"This was the day. I knew it. I have heard persons say that they can -hear the grass grow; that they know by some extra sense when danger is -nigh. For a month I had been watching, had been brooding over this -pond, and now I knew. I felt a stirring of the pulse of things that -the cold-hearted turtles could no more escape than could the clods and -I. - -"Leaving my horse unhitched, as if he, too, understood, I slipped -eagerly into my covert for a look at the pond. As I did so, a large -pickerel ploughed a furrow out through the spatter-docks, and in his -wake rose the head of a large painted turtle. Swinging slowly round, -the creature headed straight for the shore, and, without a pause, -scrambled out on the sand. - -"She was nothing unusual for a turtle, but her manner was unusual and -the gait at which she moved; for there was method in it and fixed -purpose. On she came, shuffling over the sand toward the higher open -fields, with a hurried, determined see-saw that was taking her -somewhere in particular, and that was bound to get her there on time. - -"I held my breath. Had she been a dinosaurian making Mesozoic -footprints, I could not have been more fearful. For footprints in the -Mesozoic mud, or in the sands of time, were as nothing to me when -compared with fresh turtle eggs in the sands of this pond. - -"But over the strip of sand, without a stop, she paddled, and up a -narrow cow-path into the high grass along a fence. Then up the narrow -cow-path, on all fours, just like another turtle, I paddled, and into -the high wet grass along the fence. - -"I kept well within sound of her, for she moved recklessly, leaving a -wide trail of flattened grass behind. I wanted to stand up,--and I -don't believe I could have turned her back with a rail,--but I was -afraid if she saw me that she might return indefinitely to the pond; -so on I went, flat to the ground, squeezing through the lower rails of -the fence, as if the field beyond were a melon-patch. It was nothing -of the kind, only a wild, uncomfortable pasture, full of dewberry -vines, and very discouraging. They were excessively wet vines and -briery. I pulled my coat-sleeves as far over my fists as I could get -them, and with the tin pail of sand swinging from between my teeth to -avoid noise, I stumped fiercely, but silently, on after the turtle. - -[Illustration: "TAIL FIRST, BEGAN TO BURY HERSELF"] - -"She was laying her course, I thought, straight down the length of -this dreadful pasture, when, not far from the fence, she suddenly hove -to, warped herself short about, and came back, barely clearing me. I -warped about, too, and in her wake bore down across the corner of the -pasture, across the powdery public road, and on to a fence along a -field of young corn. - -"I was somewhat wet by this time, but not so wet as I had been before -wallowing through the deep, dry dust of the road. Hurrying up behind a -large tree by the fence, I peered down the corn-rows and saw the -turtle stop, and begin to paw about in the loose, soft soil. She was -going to lay! - -"I held on to the tree and watched, as she tried this place, and that -place, and the other place. But _the_ place, evidently, was hard to -find. What could a female turtle do with a whole field of possible -nests to choose from? Then at last she found it, and, whirling about, -she backed quickly at it and, tail first, began to bury herself before -my staring eyes. - -"Those were not the supreme moments of my life; perhaps those moments -came later that day; but those certainly were among the slowest, most -dreadfully mixed of moments that I ever experienced. They were hours -long. There she was, her shell just showing, like some old hulk in the -sand alongshore. And how long would she stay there? and how should I -know if she had laid an egg? - -"I could still wait. And so I waited, when, over the freshly awakened -fields, floated four mellow strokes from the distant town clock. - -"Four o'clock! Why there was no train until seven! No train for three -hours! The eggs would spoil! Then with a rush it came over me that -this was Sunday morning, and there was no regular seven o'clock -train,--none till after nine. - -"I think I should have fainted had not the turtle just then begun -crawling off. I was weak and dizzy; but there, there in the sand, were -the eggs! and Agassiz! and the great book! Why, I cleared the -fence--and the forty miles that lay between me and Cambridge--at a -single jump! He should have them, trains or no. Those eggs should go -to Agassiz by seven o'clock, if I had to gallop every mile of the way. -Forty miles! Any horse could cover it in three hours, if he had to; -and, upsetting the astonished turtle, I scooped out her long white -eggs. - -"On a bed of sand in the bottom of the pail I laid them, with what -care my trembling fingers allowed; filled in between them with more -sand; so with layer after layer to the rim; and covering all smoothly -with more sand, I ran back for my horse. - -"That horse knew, as well as I, that the turtles had laid, and that he -was to get those eggs to Agassiz. He turned out of that field into the -road on two wheels, a thing he had not done for twenty years, doubling -me up before the dashboard, the pail of eggs miraculously lodged -between my knees. - -"I let him out. If only he could keep this pace all the way to -Cambridge!--or even halfway there, I would have time to finish the -trip on foot. I shouted him on, holding to the dasher with one hand, -holding the pail of eggs with the other, not daring to get off my -knees, though the bang on them, as we pounded down the wood-road, was -terrific. But nothing must happen to the eggs; they must not be -jarred, or even turned over in the sand before they came to Agassiz. - -"In order to get out on the pike it was necessary to drive back away -from Boston toward the town. We had nearly covered the distance, and -were rounding a turn from the woods into the open fields, when, ahead -of me, at the station it seemed, I heard the quick, sharp whistle of a -locomotive. - -"What did it mean? Then followed the _puff, puff, puff_, of a starting -train. But what train? Which way going? And jumping to my feet for a -longer view, I pulled into a side road that paralleled the track, and -headed hard for the station. - -"We reeled along. The station was still out of sight, but from behind -the bushes that shut it from view, rose the smoke of a moving engine. -It was perhaps a mile away, but we were approaching, head on, and, -topping a little hill, I swept down upon a freight train, the black -smoke pouring from the stack, as the mighty creature pulled itself -together for its swift run down the rails. - -"My horse was on the gallop, following the track, and going straight -toward the coming train. The sight of it almost maddened me--the bare -thought of it, on the road to Boston! On I went; on it came, a half--a -quarter of a mile between us, when suddenly my road shot out along an -unfenced field with only a level stretch of sod between me and the -engine. - -"With a pull that lifted the horse from his feet, I swung him into the -field and sent him straight as an arrow for the track. That train -should carry me and my eggs to Boston! - -"The engineer pulled the whistle. He saw me stand up in the rig, saw -my hat blow off, saw me wave my arms, saw the tin pail swing in my -teeth, and he jerked out a succession of sharp Halts! But it was he -who should halt, not I; and on we went, the horse with a flounder -landing the carriage on top of the track. - -"The train was already grinding to a stop; but before it was near a -standstill, I had backed off the track, jumped out, and, running down -the rails with the astonished engineers gaping at me, had swung aboard -the cab. - -"They offered no resistance; they hadn't had time. Nor did they have -the disposition, for I looked strange, not to say dangerous. Hatless, -dew-soaked, smeared with yellow mud, and holding, as if it were a baby -or a bomb, a little tin pail of sand! - -"'Crazy,' the fireman muttered, looking to the engineer for his cue. - -"I had been crazy, perhaps, but I was not crazy now. - -"'Throw her wide open,' I commanded. 'Wide open! These are fresh -turtle eggs for Professor Agassiz of Cambridge. He must have them -before breakfast.' - -"Then they knew I was crazy, and, evidently thinking it best to humor -me, threw the throttle wide open, and away we went. - -"I kissed my hand to the horse, grazing unconcernedly in the open -field, and gave a smile to my crew. That was all I could give them, -and hold myself and the eggs together. But the smile was enough. And -they smiled through their smut at me, though one of them held fast to -his shovel, while the other kept his hand upon a big ugly wrench. -Neither of them spoke to me, but above the roar of the swaying engine -I caught enough of their broken talk to understand that they were -driving under a full head of steam, with the intention of handing me -over to the Boston police, as perhaps the safest way of disposing of -me. - -"I was only afraid that they would try it at the next station. But -that station whizzed past without a bit of slack, and the next, and -the next; when it came over me that this was the through freight, -which should have passed in the night, and was making up lost time. - -"Only the fear of the shovel and the wrench kept me from shaking hands -with both men at this discovery. But I beamed at them; and they at me. -I was enjoying it. The unwonted jar beneath my feet was wrinkling my -diaphragm with spasms of delight. And the fireman beamed at the -engineer, with a look that said, 'See the lunatic grin; he likes it!' - -"He did like it. How the iron wheels sang to me as they took the -rails! How the rushing wind in my ears sang to me! From my stand on -the fireman's side of the cab I could catch a glimpse of the track -just ahead of the engine, where the ties seemed to leap into the -throat of the mile-devouring monster. The joy of it! of seeing space -swallowed by the mile! - -"I shifted the eggs from hand to hand and thought of my horse, of -Agassiz, of the great book, of my great luck,--luck,--luck,--until the -multitudinous tongues of the thundering train were all chiming 'luck! -luck! luck!' They knew! they understood! This beast of fire and -tireless wheels was doing its best to get the eggs to Agassiz! - -"We swung out past the Blue Hills, and yonder flashed the morning sun -from the towering dome of the State House. I might have leaped from -the cab and run the rest of the way on foot, had I not caught the eye -of the engineer watching me narrowly. I was not in Boston yet, nor in -Cambridge either. I was an escaped lunatic, who had held up a train, -and forced it to carry me from Middleboro to Boston. - -"Perhaps I had overdone the lunacy business. Suppose these two men -should take it into their heads to turn me over to the police, whether -I would or no? I could never explain the case in time to get the eggs -to Agassiz. I looked at my watch. There were still a few minutes left -in which I might explain to these men, who, all at once, had become my -captors. But how explain? Nothing could avail against my actions, my -appearance, and my little pail of sand. - -"I had not thought of my appearance before. Here I was, face and -clothes caked with yellow mud, my hair wild and matted, my hat gone, -and in my full-grown hands a tiny tin pail of sand, as if I had been -digging all night with a tiny tin shovel on the shore! And thus to -appear in the decent streets of Boston of a Sunday morning! - -"I began to _feel_ like a lunatic. The situation was serious, or -might be, and rather desperately funny at its best. I must in some way -have shown my new fears, for both men watched me more sharply. - -"Suddenly, as we were nearing the outer freight-yard, the train slowed -down and came to a stop. I was ready to jump, but still I had no -chance. They had nothing to do, apparently, but to guard me. I looked -at my watch again. What time we had made! It was only six o'clock,--a -whole hour left in which to get to Cambridge! - -"But I didn't like this delay. Five minutes--ten--went by. - -"'Gentlemen,' I began, but was cut short by an express train coming -past. We were moving again, on--into a siding--on to the main -track--on with a bump and a crash and a succession of crashes, running -the length of the train--on, on at a turtle's pace, but on,--when the -fireman, quickly jumping for the bell-rope, left the way to the step -free, and-- - -"I never touched the step, but landed in the soft sand at the side of -the track, and made a line for the freight-yard fence. - -"There was no hue or cry. I glanced over my shoulder to see if they -were after me. Evidently their hands were full, or they didn't know I -had gone. - -"But I had gone; and was ready to drop over the high board-fence, when -it occurred to me that I might drop into a policeman's arms. Hanging -my pail in a splint on top of a post, I peered cautiously over--a -very wise thing to do before you jump a high board-fence. There, -crossing the open square toward the station, was a big, burly fellow -with a club--looking for me! - -"I flattened for a moment, when some one in the freight-yard yelled at -me. I preferred the policeman, and, grabbing my pail, I slid softly -over to the street. The policeman moved on past the corner of the -station out of sight. The square was free, and yonder stood a cab. - -"Time was flying now. Here was the last lap. The cabman saw me coming, -and squared away. I waved a dollar-bill at him, but he only stared the -more. A dollar can cover a good deal, but I was too much for one -dollar. I pulled out another, thrust them both at him, and dodged into -the cab, calling, 'Cambridge!' - -"He would have taken me straight to the police-station, had I not -said, 'Harvard College. Professor Agassiz's house! I've got eggs for -Agassiz,' pushing another dollar up at him through the hole. - -"It was nearly half past six. - -"'Let him go!' I ordered. 'Here's another dollar if you make Agassiz's -house in twenty minutes. Let him out; never mind the police!' - -"He evidently knew the police, or there were none around at that time -on a Sunday morning. We went down the sleeping streets, as I had gone -down the wood-roads from the pond two hours before, but with the -rattle and crash now of a fire brigade. Whirling a corner into -Cambridge Street, we took the bridge at a gallop, the driver shouting -out something in Hibernian to a pair of waving arms and a belt and -brass buttons. - -"Across the bridge with a rattle and jolt that put the eggs in -jeopardy, and on over the cobble-stones, we went. Half standing, to -lessen the jar, I held the pail in one hand and held myself in the -other, not daring to let go even to look at my watch. - -"But I was afraid to look at the watch. I was afraid to see how near -to seven o'clock it might be. The sweat was dropping down my nose, so -close was I running to the limit of my time. - -"Suddenly there was a lurch, and I dived forward, ramming my head into -the front of the cab, coming up with a rebound that landed me across -the small of my back on the seat, and sent half of my pail of eggs -helter-skelter over the floor. - -"We had stopped. Here was Agassiz's house; and without taking time to -pick up the eggs that were scattered, I jumped out with my pail and -pounded at the door. - -"No one was astir in the house. But I would stir some one. And I did. -Right in the midst of the racket the door opened. It was the maid. - -"'Agassiz,' I gasped, 'I want Professor Agassiz, quick!' And I pushed -by her into the hall. - -"'Go 'way, sir. I'll call the police. Professor Agassiz is in bed. Go -'way, sir!' - -"'Call him--Agassiz--instantly, or I'll call him myself.' - -"But I didn't; for just then a door overhead was flung open, a great -white-robed figure appeared on the dim landing above, and a quick loud -voice called excitedly,-- - -"'Let him in! Let him in. I know him. He has my turtle eggs!' - -"And the apparition, slipperless, and clad in anything but an academic -gown, came sailing down the stairs. - -"The maid fled. The great man, his arms extended, laid hold of me with -both hands, and dragging me and my precious pail into his study, with -a swift, clean stroke laid open one of the eggs, as the watch in my -trembling hands ticked its way to seven--as if nothing unusual were -happening to the history of the world." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -AN ACCOUNT WITH NATURE - - -There were chipmunks everywhere. The stone walls squeaked with them. -At every turn, from early spring to early autumn, a chipmunk was -scurrying away from me. Chipmunks were common. They did no particular -harm, no particular good; they did nothing in particular, being only -chipmunks and common, or so I thought, until one morning (it was -June-bug time) when I stopped and watched a chipmunk that sat atop the -stone wall down in the orchard. He was eating, and the shells of his -meal lay in a little pile upon the big flat stone which served as his -table. - -They were acorn-shells, I thought; yet June seemed rather late in the -season for acorns, and, looking closer, I discovered that the pile was -entirely composed of June-bug shells--wings and hollow bodies of the -pestiferous beetles! - -Well, well! I had never seen this before, never even heard of it. -Chipmunk, a _useful_ member of society! actually eating bugs in this -bug-ridden world of mine! This was interesting and important. Why, I -had really never known Chipmunk, after all! - -So I hadn't. He had always been too common. Flying squirrels were -more worth while, because there were none on the farm. Now, however, I -determined to cultivate the acquaintance of Chipmunk, for there might -be other discoveries awaiting me. And there were. - -A narrow strip of grass separated the orchard and my garden-patch. It -was on my way to the garden that I most often stopped to watch this -chipmunk, or rather the pair of them, in the orchard wall. June -advanced, the beetles disappeared, and the two chipmunks in the wall -were now seven, the young ones almost as large as their parents, and -both young and old on the best of terms with me. - -For the first time in four years there were prospects of good -strawberries. Most of my small patch was given over to a new variety, -one that I had originated; and I was waiting with an eagerness which -was almost anxiety for the earliest berries. - -I had put a little stick beside each of the three big berries that -were reddening first (though I could have walked from the house -blindfolded and picked them). I might have had the biggest of the -three on June 7th, but for the sake of the flavor I thought it best to -wait another day. On the 8th I went down to get it. The big berry was -gone, and so was one of the others, while only half of the third was -left on the vine! - -Gardening has its disappointments, its seasons of despair--and wrath, -too. Had a toad showed himself at that moment, he might have fared -badly, for more than likely, I thought, it was he who had stolen my -berries. On the garden wall sat a friendly chipmunk eying me -sympathetically. - -[Illustration: CHIPMUNK EATING JUNE-BUGS] - -A few days later several fine berries were ripe, and I was again on my -way to the garden when I passed the chipmunks in the orchard. A -shining red spot among the vine-covered stones of their wall brought -me to a stop. For an instant I thought that it was my rose-breasted -grosbeak, and that I was about to get a clew to its nest. Then up to -the slab where he ate the June-bugs scrambled the chipmunk, and the -rose-red spot on the breast of the supposed grosbeak dissolved into a -big scarlet-red strawberry. And by its long wedge shape I knew it was -one of my new variety. - -I hurried across to the patch and found every berry gone, while a line -of bloody fragments led me back to the orchard wall, where a -half-dozen fresh calyx crowns completed my second discovery. - -No, it did not complete it. It took a little watching to find out that -the whole family--all seven!--were after those berries. They were -picking them half ripe, even, and actually storing them away, canning -them, down in the cavernous depths of the stone-pile! - -Alarmed? Yes, and I was wrathful, too. The taste for strawberries is -innate, original; you can't be human without it. But joy in chipmunks -is a cultivated liking. What chance in such a circumstance has the -nature-lover with the human man? What shadow of doubt as to his choice -between the chipmunks and the strawberries? - -I had no gun and no time to go over to my neighbor's to borrow his. So -I stationed myself near by with a fistful of stones, and waited for -the thieves to show themselves. I came so near to hitting one of them -with a stone that the sweat started all over me. After that there was -no danger. I had lost my nerve. The little scamps knew that war had -been declared, and they hid and dodged and sighted me so far off that -even with a gun I should have been all summer killing the seven of -them. - -Meantime, a good rain and the warm June days were turning the berries -red by the quart. They had more than caught up to the chipmunks. I -dropped my stones and picked. The chipmunks picked, too; so did the -toads and the robins. Everybody picked. It was free for all. We picked -them and ate them, jammed them, and canned them. I almost carried some -over to my neighbor, but took peas instead. - -The strawberry season closed on the Fourth of July; and our taste was -not dimmed, nor our natural love for strawberries abated; but all four -of the small boys had hives from over-indulgence, so bountifully did -Nature provide, so many did the seven chipmunks leave us! - -Peace between me and the chipmunks had been signed before the -strawberry season closed, and the pact still holds. Other things have -occurred since to threaten it, however. Among them, an article in a -recent number of an out-of-door magazine, of wide circulation. Herein -the chipmunk family was most roundly rated, in fact condemned to -annihilation because of its wicked taste for birds' eggs and for the -young birds. Numerous photographs accompanied the article, showing the -red squirrel with eggs in his mouth, but no such proof (even the red -squirrel photographs, I strongly believe, were done from a _stuffed_ -squirrel) of Chipmunk's guilt, though he was counted equally bad and, -doubtless, will suffer with Chickaree at the hands of those who have -taken the article seriously. - -I believe that would be a great mistake. Indeed, I believe the article -a deliberate falsehood, concocted in order to sell the made-up -photographs. Chipmunk is not an egg-sucker, else I should have found -it out. But of course that does not mean that no one else has found it -out. It does mean, however, that if Chipmunk robs at all he does it so -seldom as to call for no alarm or retribution. - -There is scarcely a day in the nesting-season when I fail to see half -a dozen chipmunks about the walls, yet I have never noticed one even -suspiciously near a bird's nest. In an apple tree, scarcely six jumps -from the home of the family in the orchard wall, a brood of tree -swallows came to wing this spring; while robins, chippies, and -red-eyed vireos--not to mention a cowbird, which I wish they had -devoured--have also hatched and flown away from nests that these -squirrels might easily have rifled. - -It is not often that one comes upon even the red squirrel in the very -act of robbing a nest. But the black snake, the glittering fiend! and -the dear house cats! If I run across a dozen black snakes in the early -summer, it is safe to say that six of them are discovered to me by the -cries of the birds that they are robbing. So is it with the cats. No -creature larger than a June-bug, however, is often distressed by a -chipmunk. In a recent letter to me Mr. Burroughs says:-- - -"No, I never knew the chipmunk to suck or destroy eggs of any kind, -and I have never heard of any well-authenticated instance of his doing -so. The red squirrel is the sinner in this respect, and probably the -gray squirrel also." - -It will be difficult to find a true bill against him. Were the -evidence all in, I believe that instead of a culprit we should find -Chipmunk a useful citizen. Does not that pile of June-bug bodies on -the flat stone leave me still in debt to him? He may err occasionally, -and may, on occasion, make a nuisance of himself--but so do my four -small boys, bless them! And, well,--who doesn't? When a family of -chipmunks, which you have fed all summer on the veranda, take up their -winter quarters inside the closed cabin, and chew up your quilts, -hammocks, table-cloths, and whatever else there is of chewable -properties, then they are anathema. - -The havoc certain chipmunks in the mountains once made among our -possessions was dreadful. But instead of exterminating them root and -branch, a big box was prepared the next summer and lined with tin, in -which the linen was successfully wintered. - -But how real was the loss, after all? Here was a rough log cabin on -the side of Thorn Mountain. What sort of table-cloth ought to be found -in such a cabin, if not one that has been artistically chewed by -chipmunks? Is it for fine linen that we take to the woods in summer? -The chipmunks are well worth a table-cloth now and then--well worth, -besides these, all the strawberries and all the oats they can steal -from my small patch. - -Only it isn't stealing. Since I ceased throwing stones and began to -watch the chipmunks carefully, I do not find that their manner is in -the least the manner of thieves. They do not act as if they were -taking what they have no right to. For who has told Chipmunk to earn -his oats in the sweat of his brow? No one. Instead, he seems to -understand that he is one of the innumerable factors ordained to make -me sweat--a good and wholesome experience for me so long as I get the -necessary oats. - -And I get them, in spite of the chipmunks, though I don't like to -guess at the quantity of oats they have carried off--anywhere, I -should say, from a peck to a bushel, which they have stored as they -tried to store the berries, somewhere in the big recesses of the stone -wall. - -All this, however, is beside the point. It isn't a case of oats and -berries against June-bugs. You don't haggle with Nature after that -fashion. The farm is not a market-place where you get exactly what you -pay for. You must spend on the farm all you have of time and strength -and brains; but you must not expect in return merely your money's -worth. Infinitely more than that, and oftentimes less. Farming is like -virtue,--its own reward. It pays the man who loves it, no matter how -short the crop of oats and corn. - -So it is with Chipmunk. Perhaps his books don't balance--a few -June-bugs short on the credit side. What then? It isn't mere bugs and -berries, as I have just suggested, but stone-piles. What is the -difference in value to me between a stone-pile with a chipmunk in it -and one without. Just the difference, relatively speaking, between the -house with my four boys in it, and the house without. - -Chipmunk, with his sleek, round form, his rich color and his stripes, -is the daintiest, most beautiful of all our squirrels. He is one of -the friendliest of my tenants, too, friendlier even than the -friendliest of my birds--Chickadee. The two are very much alike in -spirit; but however tame and confiding Chickadee may become, he is -still a bird and belongs to a different and, despite his wings, lower -order of beings. Chickadee is often curious about me; he can be coaxed -to eat from my hand. Chipmunk is more than curious; he is interested; -and it is not crumbs that he wants, but friendship. He can be coaxed -to eat from my lips, sleep in my pocket, and even come to be stroked. - -I have sometimes seen Chickadee in winter when he seemed to come to me -out of very need for living companionship. But in the flood-tide of -summer life Chipmunk will watch me from his stone-pile and tag me -along with every show of friendship. - -The family in the orchard wall have grown very familiar. They flatter -me. One or another of them, sitting upon the high flat slab, sees me -coming. He sits on the very edge of the crack, to be truthful; and if -I take a single step aside toward him, he flips, and all there is left -of him is a little angry squeak from the depths of the stones. If, -however, I pass properly along, do not stop or make any sudden motion, -he sees me past, then usually follows me, especially if I get well off -and pause. - -During a shower one day I halted under a large hickory just beyond his -den. He came running after me, so interested that he forgot to look to -his footing, and just opposite me slipped and bumped his nose hard -against a stone--so hard that he sat up immediately and vigorously -rubbed it. Another time he followed me across to the garden and on -until he came to the barbed-wire fence along the meadow. Here he -climbed a post and continued after me by way of the middle strand of -the wire, wriggling, twisting, even grabbing the barbs, in his efforts -to maintain his balance. He got midway between the posts, when the -sagging strand tripped him and he fell with a splash into a shallow -pool below. No, he did not drown, but his curiosity did get a ducking. - -Did the family in the orchard wall stay together as a family for the -first summer? I should like to know. As late as August they all seemed -to be in the wall; for in August I cut my oats, and during this -harvest we all worked together. - -I mowed the oats as soon as they began to yellow, cocking them to cure -for hay. It was necessary to let them "make" for six or seven days, -and all this time the chipmunks raced back and forth between the cocks -and the stone wall. They might have hidden their gleanings in a dozen -crannies nearer at hand; but evidently they had a particular -storehouse, near the home nest, where the family could get at their -provisions in bad weather without coming forth. - -Had I removed the stones and dug out the nest, I should have found a -tunnel leading into the ground for a few feet and opening into a -chamber filled with a bulky grass nest--a bed capable of holding half -a dozen chipmunks--and, adjoining this, by a short passageway, the -storehouse of the oats. - -How many trips they made between this crib and the oat-patch, how -many kernels they carried in their pouches at a trip, and how big a -pile they had when all the grains were in,--these are more of the -things I should like to know. - -When the first frosts come, the family--if they are still a -family--seek the nest in the ground beneath the stone wall. But they -do not go to sleep immediately. Their outer entrances have not yet -been closed. There is still plenty of fresh air and, of course, plenty -of food--acorns, chestnuts, hickory-nuts, and oats. They doze quietly -for a time and then they eat, pushing the empty shells and hulls into -some side passage prepared beforehand to receive the débris. - -But soon the frost is creeping down through the stones and earth -overhead, the rains are filling the outer doorways and shutting off -the supply of fresh air; and one day, though not sound sleepers, the -family cuddle down and forget to wake entirely until the frost has -begun to creep back toward the surface, and in through the softened -soil is felt the thrill of the waking spring. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WOODS MEDICINE - - -The real watcher in the woods usually goes off by himself. He hates to -have anybody along; for Anybody wants to be moving all the time, and -Anybody wants to be talking all the time, and Anybody wants to be -finding a circus, or a zoo, or a natural history museum in the middle -of the woods, else Anybody wishes he had stayed at home or gone to the -ball-game. - -Now I always say to Mr. Anybody when he asks me to take him into the -woods, "Yes, come along, if you can stand stock-still for an hour, -without budging; if you can keep stock-still for an hour, without -talking; if you can get as excited watching two tumble-bugs trying to -roll their ball up hill, as you do watching nine baseball men trying -to bat their ball about a field." - -The doctor pulled a small blankbook out of his vest pocket, scribbled -something in Latin and Chinese (at least it looked like Chinese), and -then at the bottom wrote in English, "Take one teaspoonful every -hour"; and, tearing off the leaf, handed it to the patient. It was a -prescription for some sort of medicine. - -Now I am going to give you a prescription,--for some woods -medicine,--a magic dose that will cure you of blindness and deafness -and clumsy-footedness, that will cause you to see things and hear -things and think things in the woods that you have never thought or -heard or seen in the woods before. Here is the prescription:-- - - WOOD CHUCK, M. D., - - MULLEIN HILL. - - - Office Hours: 5.30 A.M. until Breakfast. - - - Rx: No moving for one hour.... No talking for one hour.... No - dreaming or thumb-twiddling the while.... - - _Sig_: The dose to be taken from the top of a stump with a bit - of sassafras bark or a nip of Indian turnip every time you go - into the woods. - - - WOOD CHUCK. - -I know that this compound will cure if you begin taking it early -enough--along, I should say, from the Fifth to the Eighth Grades. It -is a very difficult dose to take at any age, but it is almost -impossible for grown-ups to swallow it; for they have so many things -to do, or think they have, that they can't sit still a whole hour -anywhere--a terrible waste of time! And then they have been talking -for so many years that to stop for a whole hour might--kill them, who -knows! And they have been working nervously with their hands so long -that their thumbs will twiddle, and to sleep they will go the minute -they sit down, in spite of themselves. It is no use to give this -medicine to grown-ups. They are what Dr. Wood Chuck calls -"chronics"--hopeless hurriers who will never sit down upon a stump, -who, when the Golden Chariot comes for them, will stand up and drive -all the way to heaven. - -However, I am not giving this medicine to grown-ups, but to you. Of -course you will make a bad face over it, too; for, young or old, it is -hard to sit still and even harder to keep still--I mean not to talk. I -have closely watched four small boys these several years now, and I -never knew one of them to sit still for a whole hour _at home_--not -once in his whole life! And as for his tongue! he might tuck that into -his cheek, hold it down between his teeth, crowd it back behind his -fist--no matter. The tongue is an unruly member. But let these four -boys get into the woods, and every small pale-face of them turns -Indian instinctively, tip-toeing up and down the ridges with lips as -close-sealed as if some finger of the forest were laid upon them. So -it must be with you when you enter the fields and woods. - -The wood-born people are all light-footed and cautious in their -stirring. Only the box turtles scuff carelessly along; and that is -because they can shut themselves up--head, paws, tail--inside their -lidded shells, and defy their enemies. - -The skunk, however, is sometimes careless in his going; for he knows -that he will neither be crowded nor jostled along the street, so he -naturally behaves as if all the woods were his. Yet, how often do you -come upon a skunk? Seldom--because, he is quite as unwilling to meet -you as you are to meet him; but as one of your little feet makes as -much noise in the leaves as all four of his, he hears you coming and -turns quietly down some alley or in at some burrow and allows you to -pass on. - -Louder than your step in the woods is the sound of your voice. Perhaps -there is no other noise so far-reaching, so alarming, so silencing in -the woods as the human voice. When your tongue begins, all the other -tongues cease. Songs stop as by the snap of a violin string; -chatterings cease; whisperings end--mute are the woods and empty as a -tomb, except the wind be moving aloft in the trees. - -Three things all the animals can do supremely well: they can hear -well; they can see motion well; they can wait well. - -If you would know how well an animal can wait, scare Dr. Wood Chuck -into his office, then sit down outside and wait for him to come out. -It would be a rare and interesting thing for you to do. No one has -ever done it yet, I believe! Establish a world's record for keeping -still! But you should scare him in at the beginning of your summer -vacation so as to be sure you have all the waiting-time the state -allows: for you may have to leave the hole in September and go back to -school. - -When the doctor wrote the prescription for this medicine, "No moving -for an hour," he was giving you a very small, a homeopathic dose of -patience, as you can see; for _an hour_ at a time, every wood-watcher -knows, will often be only a waste of time, unless followed -immediately by another hour of the same. - -On the road to the village one day, I passed a fox-hunter sitting atop -an old stump. It was about seven o'clock in the morning. - -"Hello, Will!" I called, "been out all night?" - -"No, got here 'bout an hour ago," he replied. - -I drove on and, returning near noon, found Will still atop the stump. - -"Had a shot yet?" I called. - -"No, the dogs brought him down 'tother side the brook, and carried him -over to the Shanty field." - -About four o'clock that afternoon I was hurrying down to the station, -and there was Will atop that same stump. - -"Got him yet?" I called. - -"No, dogs are fetching him over the Quarries now"--and I was out of -hearing. - -It was growing dark when I returned; but there was Will Hall atop the -stump. I drew up in the road. - -"Grown fast to that stump, Will?" I called. "Want me to try to pull -you off?" - -"No, not yet," he replied, jacking himself painfully to his feet. -"Chillin' up some, ain't it?" he added shaking himself. "Might's well -go home, I guess"--when from the direction of Young's Meadows came the -eager voice of his dogs; and, waving me on, he got quickly back atop -the stump, his gun ready across his knees. - -I was nearly home when, through the muffle of the darkening woods, I -heard the quick _bang! bang!_ of Will's gun. - -Yes, he got him, a fine red fox. And speaking to me about it one day, -he said,-- - -"There's a lot more to sittin' still than most folks thinks. The -trouble is, most folks in the woods can't stand the monopoly of it." - -Will's English needs touching up in spots; but he can show the -professors a great many things about the ways of the woods. - -And now what does the doctor mean by "No dreaming or thumb-twiddling" -in the woods? Just this: that not only must you be silent and -motionless for hours at a time, but you must also be alert--watchful, -keen, ready to take a hint, to question, guess, and interpret. The -fields and woods are not full of life, but full only of the sounds, -shadows, and signs of life. - -You are atop of your stump, when over the ridge you hear a slow, quiet -rustle in the dead leaves--a skunk; then a slow, _loud_ rustle--a -turtle; then a _quick_, loud--_one-two-three_--rustle--a chewink; then -a tiny, rapid rustle--a mouse; then a long, rasping rustle--a snake; -then a measured, galloping rustle--a squirrel; then a light-heavy, -hop-thump rustle--a rabbit; then--and not once have you seen the -rustlers in the leaves beyond the ridge; and not once have you stirred -from your stump. - -Perhaps this understanding of the leaf-sounds might be called -"interpretation"; but before you can interpret them, you must hear -them; and no dozing, dreaming, fuddling sitter upon a stump has ears -to hear. - -As you sit there, you notice a blue jay perched silent and unafraid -directly over you--not an ordinary, common way for a blue jay to act. -"Why?" you ask. Why, a nest, of course, somewhere near! Or, suddenly -round and round the trunk of a large oak tree whirls a hummingbird. -"Queer," you say. Then up she goes--and throwing your eye ahead of her -through the tree-tops you chance to intercept her bee-line flight--a -hint! She is probably gathering lichens for a nest which she is -building somewhere near, in the direction of her flight. A whirl! a -flash!--as quick as light! You have a wonderful story! - -Now do not get the impression that all one needs to do in order to -become acquainted with the life of the woods is to sit on a -stump a long time, say nothing, and listen hard. All that is -necessary--rather, the ability to do it is necessary; but in the woods -or out it is also necessary to exercise common sense. Guess, for -instance, when guessing is all that you can do. You will learn more, -however, and learn it faster, generally, by following it up, than by -sitting on a stump and guessing about it. - -At twilight, in the late spring and early summer, we frequently hear -a gentle, tremulous call from the woods or from below in the orchard. -"What is it?" I had been asked a hundred times, and as many times had -guessed that it might be the hen partridge clucking to her brood; or -else I had replied that it made me think of the mate-call of a coon, -or that I half inclined to believe it the cry of the woodchucks, or -that possibly it might be made by the owls. In fact, I didn't know the -peculiar call, and year after year I kept guessing at it. - -We were seated one evening on the porch listening to the -whip-poor-wills, when some one said, "There's your woodchuck -singing again." Sure enough, there sounded the tremulous -woodchuck-partridge-owl-coon cry. I slipped down through the birches -determined at last to know that cry and stop guessing about it, if I -had to follow it all night. - -The moon was high and full, the footing almost noiseless, and -everything so quiet that I quickly located the clucking sounds as -coming from the orchard. I came out of the birches into the wood-road, -and was crossing the open field to the orchard, when something dropped -with a swish and a vicious clacking close upon my head. I jumped from -under my hat, almost,--and saw the screech owl swoop softly up into -the nearest apple tree. Instantly she turned toward me and uttered the -gentle purring cluck that I had been guessing at so hard for at least -three years. And even while I looked at her, I saw in the tree -beyond, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, two round bunches,--young -owls evidently,--which were the explanation of the calls. These two, -and another young one, were found in the orchard the following day. - -I rejoined the guessers on the porch and gave them the satisfying -fact, but only after two or three years of guessing about it. I had -laughed once at some of my friends over on the other road who had -bolted their front door and had gone out of the door at the side of -the house for precisely twenty-one years because the key in the -front-door lock wouldn't work. They were intending to have it fixed, -but the children being little kept them busy; then the children grew -up, and of course kept them busier; got married at last and left -home--all but one daughter. Still the locksmith was not called to fix -that front door. One day this unmarried daughter, in a fit of -impatience, got at that door herself, and found that the key had been -inserted just twenty-one years before--_upside down_! - -There I had sat on the porch--on a stump, let us say, and guessed -about it. Truly, my key to this mystery had been left long in the -lock, upside down, while I had been going in and out by the side door. - -No, you must _go_ into the fields and woods, go deep and far and -frequently, with eyes and ears and all your souls alert! - - - - -NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS - - -CHAPTER I - - -TO THE TEACHER - - Put the question to your scholars individually: Who is _your_ - messenger of spring? Make the reading of this book not an end in - itself, but only a means toward getting the pupils out of doors. - Never let the reading stop with the end of the chapter, any more - than you would let your garden stop with the buying of the - seeds. And how eager and restless a healthy child is for the - fields and woods with the coming of spring! Do not let your - opportunity slip. Go with them after reading this chapter - (re-reading if you can the first chapter in "The Fall of the - Year") out to some meadow stream where they can see the fallen - stalks and brown matted growths of the autumn through which the - new spring shoots are pushing, green with vigor and promise. The - seal of winter has been broken; the pledge of autumn has been - kept; the life of a new summer has started up from the grave of - the summer past. Here by the stream under your feet is the whole - cycle of the seasons--the dead stalks, the empty seed-vessels, - the starting life. - - Let the children watch for the returning birds and report to - you; have them bring in the opening flowers, giving them credit - (on the blackboard) for each _new_ flower found; go with them - (so that they will not _bring_ the eggs to you) to see the new - nests discovered, teaching them by every possible means the - folly and cruelty of robbing birds' nests, of taking life; - while at the same time you show them the beauty of life, its - sacredness, and manifold interests. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 1 - - Have you ever _seen_ a "spring peeper" peeping? You will hear, - these spring nights, many distinct notes in the marshes, and - when you have seen all of the lowly musicians you will be a - fairly accomplished naturalist. Let the discovery of "Who's Who - among the Frogs" this spring be one of your first outdoor - studies. The picture shows you Pickering's hyla, blowing his - bagpipe. _Arbutus_: trailing arbutus (_Epigæa repens_), - sometimes called ground-laurel, and mayflower, fishflower (in - New Jersey). - - _hepatica_: liver-leaf (_Hepatica triloba_). - - _Spice-bush_: wild allspice, fever-bush, Benjamin-bush - (_Benzoin æstivale_). - - _Wood-pussy_: the skunk, who comes out of his winter den very - early in spring, and whose scent is one of the characteristic - odors of a New England spring. - -PAGE 2 - - _All white and still_: The whole poem will be found on the last - page of "Winter," the second book in this series. - - _trillium_: the wake-robin. Read Mr. Burroughs's book - "Wake-Robin,"--the first of his outdoor books. - -PAGE 4 - - _phoebe_: See the chapter called "The Palace in the Pig-Pen." - - _bloodroot_: _Sanguinaria canadensis_. See the picture on this - page. So named because of the red-orange juice in the - root-stalks, used by the Indians as a stain. - - _marsh-marigolds_: The more common but _incorrect_ name is - "cowslip." The marsh-marigold is _Caltha palustris_ and belongs - with the buttercup and wind-flower to the Crowfoot Family. The - cowslip, a species of primrose, is a European plant and belongs - to the Primrose Family. - -PAGE 5 - - _woolly-bear_: caterpillar of the isabella tiger moth, the - common caterpillar, brown in the middle with black ends, whose - hairs look as if they had been clipped, so even are they. - - _mourning-cloak_: See picture, page 77 of "Winter," the second - book of this series. The antiopa butterfly. - - _juncos_: the common slate-colored "snowbirds." - - _witch-hazel_: See picture, page 28 of "The Fall of the Year"; - read description of it on pages 31-33 of the same volume. - - _bluets_: or "innocence" (_Houstonia coerulea_). - -PAGE 6 - - _the Delaware_: the Delaware River, up which they come in order - to lay their eggs. As they come up they are caught in nets and - their eggs or "roe" salted and made into caviar. - - _Cohansey Creek_: a small river in New Jersey. - - _Lupton's Meadows_: local name of meadows along Cohansey Creek. - - -CHAPTER II - - -TO THE TEACHER - - Read Kipling's story in "The Second Jungle Book" called "The - Spring Running." Both Jungle Books ought to be in your school - library. Spring is felt on the ocean as well as over the land; - life is all of one piece; the thrill we feel at the touch of - spring is felt after his manner and degree by bird and beast and - by the fish of the sea. Go back to the last paragraph of chapter - I for the _thought_. Here I have expanded that thought of the - tides of life rising. See the picture of the herring on their - deep sea run on page 345 of the author's "Wild Life Near Home." - Let the chapter suggest to the pupils the mysterious powers of - the minds of the lower animals. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 7 - - _Mowgli_: Do you know Mowgli of "The Jungle Book"? - - _Chaucer_: the "Father of English Poetry." This is one of the - opening lines of the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. - -PAGE 8 - - _migrating birds_: See "The Great Tidal Waves of Bird Life" by - D. Lange, in the "Atlantic Monthly" for August, 1909. - -PAGE 9 - - _The cold-blooded_: said of those animals lower than the mammals - and birds, that have not four-chambered hearts and the complete - double blood-circulation. - - _Weymouth Back River_: of Weymouth, Massachusetts. - -PAGE 10 - - _catfish_: or horn-pout or bull-pout, see picture, page 12. - -PAGE 11 - - _stickleback_: The little male stickleback builds a nest, drives - the female into it to lay her eggs, then takes charge of the - eggs until the fry hatch out and go off for themselves. - - -CHAPTER III - - -TO THE TEACHER - - You will try to get three suggestions out of this chapter for - your pupils: First, that an old tree with holes may prove to be - the most _fruitful_ and interesting tree in the neighborhood, - that is to say, nothing out of doors is so far fallen to pieces, - dead, and worthless as to be passed by in our nature study. - (Read to them "Second Crops" in the author's "A Watcher in the - Woods.") Secondly: the humble tree-toad is well worth the most - careful watching, for no one yet has told us all of his - life-story. Thirdly: one of the benefits of this simple, sincere - love of the out-of-doors will come to us as rest, both in mind - and body, as contentment, too, and clearer understanding of what - things are worth while. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 14 - - _burlap petticoat_: a strip of burlap about six inches wide tied - with a string and folded over about the trunks of the trees - under which the night-feeding gypsy moth caterpillars hide by - day. The burlaps are lifted and the worms killed. - - _a peddler's stall_: In the days of the author's boyhood - peddlers sold almost everything that the country people could - want. - -PAGE 16 - - _grim-beaked baron_: the little owl of the tree. - - _keep_: an older name for castle; sometimes for the dungeon. - -PAGE 20 - - _for him to call the summer rain_: alluding to his evening and - his cloudy-day call as a sign of coming rain. - -PAGE 22 - - _castings_: the disgorged lumps of hair and bones of the small - animals eaten by the owls. - -PAGE 24 - - _Altair and Arcturus_: prominent stars in the northern - hemisphere. - - -CHAPTER IV - - -TO THE TEACHER - - See the suggestions for the corresponding chapter in "The Fall - of the Year," the first volume in this series. Lest you may not - have that book at hand, let me repeat here the gist of what I - said there: that you make this chapter the purpose of one or - more field excursions with the class--in order to see with your - own eyes the characteristic sights of spring as recorded here; - secondly, that you use this, and chapters VI and X, as school - tests of the pupil's knowledge and observation of his own fields - and woods; and thirdly, let the items mentioned here be used as - possible subjects for the pupil's further study as themes for - compositions, or independent investigations out of school hours. - The finest fruit the teacher can show is a school full of - children personally interested in things. And what better things - than live things out of doors? - - -CHAPTER V - - -TO THE TEACHER - - I might have used a star, or the sun, or the sea to teach the - lesson involved here, instead of the crow and his three broken - feathers. But these three feathers will do for your pupils as - the falling apple did for Sir Isaac Newton. The point of the - chapter is: that the feathers like the stars must round out - their courses; that this universe is a universe of law, of - order, and of reason, even to the wing feathers of a crow. Try - to show your pupils the beauty and wonder of order and law (not - easy to do) as well as the beauty and wonder of shapes and - colors and sounds, etc. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 34 - - _primaries, secondaries, tertials_: Turn to your dictionary - under "Bird" (or at the front of some good bird book) and study - out just which feathers of the wing these named here are. - -PAGE 35 - - _half-moulted hen_: Pick her up and notice the regular and - systematic arrangement of the young feathers. Or take a plucked - hen and draw roughly the pin-feather scheme as you find it on - her body. - -PAGE 37 - - _reed-birds_: The bobolink is also called "rice-bird" from its - habit of feeding in the rice-fields of the South on its fall - migration. - - -CHAPTER VI - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Do not stop doing or seeing or hearing when you have done, seen, - and heard the few things suggested in this chapter and in - chapters IV and X; for these are only suggestions, and merely - intended to give you a start, as if your friend had said to you - upon your visiting a new city, "Now, don't fail to see the - Common and the old State House, etc.; and don't fail to go down - to T Wharf, etc.,"--knowing that all the time you would be doing - and seeing and hearing a thousand interesting things. - - -CHAPTER VII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - I called this chapter when I first wrote it "The Friendship of - Nature"--a much used title, but entirely suggestive of the - thought and the lesson in the story here. This was first written - about six years ago, and to-day, May 12, 1912, that pair of - phoebes, or another pair, have their nest out under the - pig-pen roof as they have had every year since I have known the - pen. Repeat and expand the thought as I have put it into the - mouth of Nature in the first paragraph--"We will share them [the - acres] together." Instill into your pupils' minds the large - meaning of obedience to Nature's laws and love for her and all - her own. Show them also how ready Nature is (and all the birds - and animals and flowers) to be friendly; and how even a city - dooryard may hold enough live _wild_ things for a small zoo. - This chapter might well be made use of by the city teacher to - stir her pupils to see what interesting live things their city - or neighborhood has, although the woods and open fields are - miles away. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 48 - - _a hornet's nest_: the white-faced hornet, that builds the great - cone-shaped paper nests. - - _swifts thunder in the chimney_: See chapter VII (and notes) in - "Winter." For the "thunder" see section IX in chapter X of this - book. - -PAGE 49 - - _cabbage butterfly_: a pest; a small whitish butterfly with a - few small black spots. Its grubs eat cabbage. - -PAGE 54 - - _the crested flycatcher_: is the largest of the family; builds - in holes; distinguished by its use of cast-off snake-skins in - its nests. - - _kingbird_: Everybody knows him, for it is usually he who - chases the marauding crows; he builds, out in the apple tree if - he can, a big, bulky nest with strings a-flying from it: also - called "bee-martin," a most useful bird. - - _wood pewee_: builds on the limbs of forest trees a most - beautiful nest, much like a hummingbird's, only larger. Pewee's - soft, pensive call of "pe-e-e-wee" in the deep, quiet, - dark-shrouded summer woods is one of the sweetest of bird - notes. - - _chebec_: a little smaller than a sparrow; builds a beautiful - nest in orchard trees and says "chebec, chebec, chebec." - -PAGE 58 - - _One had died_: After phoebe brings off her first brood - sprinkle a little, tobacco-dust or lice-powder, such as you use - in the hen-yard, into the nest to kill the vermin. Otherwise the - second and third broods may be eaten alive by lice or mites. - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - In "Winter" I put a chapter called "The Missing Tooth," showing - the dark and bitter side of the life of the wild things; here I - have taken that thought as most people think of it (see - Burroughs's essay, "A Life of Fear" in "Riverby") and in the - light of typical examples tried to show that wild life is not - fear, but peace and joy. The kernel of the chapter is found in - the words: "The level of wild life, the soul of all nature, is a - great serenity." Let the pupils watch and report instances of - fear (easy to see) and in the same animals instances of peace - and joy. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 60 - - _gray harrier_: so named because of his habit of flying low and - "harrying," that is, hunting, catching small prey on or near the - ground. "Harry" comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for army. - -PAGE 61 - - "_He looketh as it were a grym leoun_": from Chaucer's - description of the Cock in the story of the Cock and the Fox. - -PAGE 62 - - _terrible pike_: closely related to the pickerel. - - _kingfisher_: builds in holes in sand-banks near water. Its - peculiar rattle sounds like the small boys' "clapper." - -PAGE 63 - - "_The present only toucheth thee!_": Burns's poem "To a Mouse." - -PAGE 64 - - "_The fair music that all creatures made_": from Milton's poem - "To a Solemn Music," "solemn" meaning "orchestral" music. - -PAGE 65 - - _then doubling once more_: This is all figurative language. I am - thinking of myself as the fox. The dogs have run themselves to - death on my trail, and I am turning back, "doubling," to have a - look at them and to rejoice over their defeat. - -PAGE 71 - - _pine marten_: The marten is so rare in this neighborhood that I - am inclined to think the creature was the large weasel. - -PAGE 73 - - _the heavy bar across their foreheads_: a very unusual way of - yoking oxen in the United States. The only team I ever saw here - so yoked. - -PAGE 74 - - _San Francisco_: alluding to the earthquake and fire which - nearly wiped out the city in 1906. - - -CHAPTER IX - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - The picture of the young buzzard is as true as a photograph; the - bumped-up drawing of the old bird looks precisely as she did - atop her dead tree, watching my approach. This vulture rarely - soars into New England skies; down South, especially along the - coast, the smaller black vulture (_Catharista urubu_) is found - very tame and in great abundance; while in the far Southwest - lives the great condor. - -PAGE 80 - - _tulip poplar_: tulip-tree (_Liriodendron tulipifera_). - - "_For it had bene an auncient tree_": from Edmund Spenser's - "Shepherd's Calendar." - -PAGE 85 - - _a dozen kinds of cramps_: Perhaps you will say I didn't find - much in finding the buzzard's nest, and got mostly cramps! Yes, - but I also got the buzzard's nest--a thing that I had wanted to - see for many years. It was worth seeing, however, for its own - sake. Even a buzzard is interesting. See the account of him in - "Wild Life Near Home," the chapter called "A Buzzard's Banquet." - - -CHAPTER XI - - -TO THE TEACHER - - The point of the story is the enthusiasm of the naturalists for - their work--work that to the uncaring and unknowing seemed not - even worth while. But all who do great things do them with all - their might. No one can stop to count the cost whose soul is - bent on great things. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 94 - - _Burlington_: in Vermont. - - _Concord and Middleboro_: in Massachusetts. - - _Zadoc Thompson_: a Vermont naturalist. - - _D. Henry Thoreau_: better known as Henry D. Thoreau; author of - "Walden," etc. - - _J. W. P. Jenks_: for many years head of Pierce Academy, - Middleboro, and later Professor of Agricultural Zoölogy in - Brown University. - -PAGE 96 - - _Contributions_: used in place of the whole name: Go yourself - into the public library and read this and look at the four large - volumes. - -PAGE 101 - - _spatter-docks_: yellow pond-lily (_Nuphar advena_). - -PAGE 102 - - _dinosaurian_: one of the fossil reptile monsters of the - Mesozoic, or "middle," period of the earth's history, before the - age of man. - - -CHAPTER XII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - In this story I have tried to settle the difficult question of - debit and credit between me and the out-of-doors. Shall we - exterminate the red squirrels, the hawks, owls, etc., is a - question that is not so easily answered as one might think. The - fact is we do not want to exterminate _any_ of our native forms - of life--we need them all, and owe them more, each of them, for - the good they do us, than they owe us for the little harm they - may do us. Read this over with the children with its moral and - economic lesson in view. Send to the National Association of - Audubon Societies, New York City, for their free leaflets upon - this matter. The Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture, - Harrisburg, Pa., has a bulletin upon this same subject which - will be sent free upon application. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 115 - - _June-bug_: the very common brown beetle whose big white grubs - you dig up under the sod and in composts. - -PAGE 118 - - _rose-breasted grosbeak_: one of the most beautiful of our - birds, and a lovely singer. - -PAGE 120 - - _Chickaree_: the common name of the red squirrel. The red - squirrel does not need to be destroyed. - - _tree swallows_: They build in holes in orchard trees, etc.; to - be distinguished on the wing from the barn swallows by their - white bellies and plain, only slightly forked tails. - - _chippies_: the little chipping sparrow, or hair-bird. - - _red-eyed vireos_: the most common of the vireos; see picture - of its nest on page 40 of "Winter." - -PAGE 121 - - _cowbird_: the miserable brown-headed blackbird that lays its - egg or eggs in smaller birds' nests and leaves its young to be - fed by the unsuspecting foster-mother. As the young cowbird is - larger than the rightful young, it gets all the food and causes - them to starve. - -PAGE 122 - - _Thorn Mountain_: one of the smaller of the White Mountains; it - overlooks the village of Jackson, N. H. - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - If you have read through "The Fall of the Year" and "Winter" and - to this chapter in "The Spring of the Year," you will know that - the upshot of these thrice thirteen readings has been to take - you and your children into the woods; you will know that the - last paragraph of this last chapter is the aim and purpose and - key of all three books. You must _go_ into the woods, you must - lead your children to go, deep and far and frequently. The Three - R's first--but after them, before dancing, or cooking, or - sewing, or manual training, or anything, send your children out - into the open, where they belong. The school can give them - nothing better than the Three R's, and can only fail in trying - to give them more, except it give them the freedom of the - fields. Help Nature, the old nurse, to take your children on her - knee. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 128 - - _Here is the prescription_: Think you can swallow it? Go out and - try. - -PAGE 129 - - _Golden Chariot_: In what Bible story does the Golden Chariot - descend? and whom does it carry away? - - _pale-face_: an Indian name for the white man. - -PAGE 130 - - _box turtles_: They are sometimes found as far north as the - woods of Cape Cod, Massachusetts; but are very abundant farther - south. - -PAGE 133 - - _Chewink_: towhee, or ground-robin; to be distinguished by his - loud call of "chewink" and his vigorous scratching among the - leaves. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - -***** This file should be named 42144-8.txt or 42144-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/4/42144/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: The Spring of the Year - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - -Release Date: February 20, 2013 [EBook #42144] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42144 ***</div> <div class="figcenter"> <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="" /> @@ -4592,382 +4554,6 @@ south.</p></blockquote> loud call of “chewink” and his vigorous scratching among the leaves.</p></blockquote> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - -***** This file should be named 42144-h.htm or 42144-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/4/42144/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42144 ***</div> </body> </html> diff --git a/42144.txt b/42144.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 05ca761..0000000 --- a/42144.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4348 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -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: The Spring of the Year - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - -Release Date: February 20, 2013 [EBook #42144] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - - - - - - - - [Illustration: SPRING OF THE YEAR--SHADBUSH (CHAPTER I)] - - - The Dallas Lore Sharp Nature Series - - - - - THE SPRING OF THE YEAR - - - BY - - DALLAS LORE SHARP - - - AUTHOR OF "THE LAY OF THE LAND," "THE FACE OF THE - FIELDS," "THE FALL OF THE YEAR," "WINTER," ETC. - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - - ROBERT BRUCE HORSFALL - - - BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO - - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - - The Riverside Press Cambridge - - - COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1905, AND 1906, BY THE CHAPPLE PUBLISHING CO., LTD. - - COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS BOOK COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1911, AND 1912, BY DALLAS LORE SHARP - - COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY COMPANY - - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - The Riverside Press - - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - - U . S . A - - - TO MY SISTER - - JENNIE THE BEST OF COMPANIONS - IN THE WOODS AND FIELDS - THROUGH WHICH WE WENT TO SCHOOL - - - - - CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION ix - I. SPRING! SPRING! SPRING! 1 - II. THE SPRING RUNNING 7 - III. AN OLD APPLE TREE 13 - IV. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS SPRING 26 - V. IF YOU HAD WINGS 33 - VI. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS SPRING 41 - VII. THE PALACE IN THE PIG-PEN 48 - VIII. IS IT A LIFE OF FEAR? 60 - IX. THE BUZZARD OF THE BEAR SWAMP 76 - X. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS SPRING 86 - XI. TURTLE EGGS FOR AGASSIZ 94 - XII. AN ACCOUNT WITH NATURE 115 - XIII. WOODS MEDICINE 127 - NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS 137 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - SPRING OF THE YEAR--SHADBUSH _Frontispiece_ - HYLAS PEEPING "SPRING!" 1 - "THE EARLIEST BLOODROOT" 4 - THE TURKEY-HEN--"HALF A MILE FROM HOME" 8 - CATFISH FAMILY 12 - SCREECH OWL--"OUT OVER THE MEADOW HE SAILS" 17 - TREE-TOAD--"COMES FORTH TO THE EDGE OF HIS HOLE" 23 - SKUNK-CABBAGE AND BUMBLEBEE 27 - A SUNFISH OVER ITS NEST 29 - CRESTED FLYCATCHER WITH SNAKE-SKIN 31 - "ONE OF MY LITTLE BAND OF CROWS" 33 - YOUNG PAINTED TURTLE, FROGS' EGGS, SNAILS, AND - WHIRLIGIG BEETLES 45 - "ONE LIVE TOAD UNDER YOUR DOORSTEP" 46 - PHOEBE AND HER YOUNG 55 - PIKE AND MINNOWS 62 - FOX BARKING--"UPON THE BARE KNOLL NEAR THE HOUSE" 66 - PINE MARTEN AND CHIPMUNK 71 - "UPON ONE OF THESE THE BUZZARD SAT HUMPED" 79 - YOUNG TURKEY BUZZARD 83 - BROWN THRASHER--"OUR FINEST, MOST GIFTED SONGSTER" 87 - PAINTED TURTLE--"BEGAN TO BURY HERSELF" 103 - CHIPMUNK EATING JUNE-BUGS 117 - "TWO TUMBLE-BUGS TRYING TO ROLL THEIR BALL UP HILL" 127 - "THE BOX TURTLES SCUFF CARELESSLY ALONG" 130 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -It has been my aim in the thirty-nine chapters of the three books in -this series to carry my readers through the weeks of all the school -year, not however as with a calendar, for that would be more or less -wooden and artificial; but by readings, rather, that catch in a large -way the spirit of the particular season, that give something definite -and specific in the way of suggestions for tramps afield with things -to look for and hear and do. Naturally many of the birds and animals -and flowers mentioned, as well as woods and aspects of sky and field, -are those of my own local environment--of my New England -surrounding--and so must differ in some details from those surrounding -you in your far Southern home or you on your distant Pacific coast, or -you in your rich and varied valley of the Mississippi, or you on your -wide and generous prairie. But the similarities and correspondences, -the things and conditions we have in common, are more than our -differences. Our sun, moon, sky, earth--our land--are the same, our -love for this beautiful world is the same, as is that touch of nature -which we all feel and which makes us all kin. Wherever, then, in these -books of the seasons, the things treated differ from the things -around you, read about those things for information, and in your -journeys afield fill in the gaps with whatever it is that completes -your landscape, or rounds out your cycle of the seasons, or links up -your endless chain of life. - -While I have tried to be accurate throughout these books, still it has -not been my object chiefly to write a natural history--volumes of -outdoor facts; but to quicken the imaginations behind the sharp eyes, -behind the keen ears and the eager souls of the multitude of children -who go to school, as I used to go to school, through an open, -stirring, beckoning world of living things that I longed to range and -understand. - -The best thing that I can do as writer, that you can do as teacher, if -I may quote from the last paragraph--the keynote of these volumes--is -to "go into the fields and woods, go deep and far and frequently, with -eyes and ears and all your souls alert." - - MULLEIN HILL, May, 1912 - - - - -THE SPRING OF THE YEAR - - - - -CHAPTER I - -"SPRING! SPRING! SPRING!" - - -Who is your spring messenger? Is it bird or flower or beast that -brings your spring? What sight or sound or smell spells S-P-R-I-N-G to -you, in big, joyous letters? - -Perhaps it is the frogs. Certainly I could not have a real spring -without the frogs. They have peeped "Spring!" to me every time I have -had a spring. Perhaps it is the arbutus, or the hepatica, or the -pussy-willow, or the bluebird, or the yellow spice-bush, or, if you -chance to live in New England, perhaps it is the wood pussy that -brings your spring! - -Beast, bird, or flower, whatever it is, there comes a day and a -messenger and--spring! You know that spring is here. It may snow again -before night: no matter; your messenger has brought you the news, -brought you the very spring itself, and after all your waiting -through the winter months are you going to be discouraged by a flurry -of snow? - - "All white and still lie stream and hill-- - The winter dread and drear! - When from the skies a bluebird flies, - And--spring is here!" - -To be sure, it is here, if the bluebird is your herald. - -But how much faith in the weather you must have, and how you must long -for the spring before the first bluebird brings it to you! Some sunny -March day he drops down out of the blue sky, saying softly, sweetly, -"Florida, florida!" as if calling the flowers; and then he is -gone!--gone for days at a time, while it snows and blows and rains, -freezes and thaws, thaws, thaws, until the March mud looks fitter for -clams than for flowers. - -So it is with the other first signs. If you want springtime ahead of -time, then you must have it in your heart, out of reach of the -weather, just as you must grow cucumbers in a hothouse if you want -them ahead of time. But there comes a day when cucumbers will grow out -of doors; and there comes a day when the bluebird and the song sparrow -and all the other heralds stay, when spring has come whether you have -a heart or not. - -What day is that in your out-of-doors, and what sign have you to mark -it? Mr. John Burroughs says his sign is the wake-robin, or trillium. -When I was a school-boy it used to be for me the arbutus; but -nowadays it is the shadbush: I have no sure settled spring until I see -the shadbush beginning to open misty white in the edge of the woods. -Then I can trust the weather; I can open my beehives; I can plough and -plant my garden; I can start into the woods for a day with the birds -and flowers; for when the shadbush opens, the great gate to the woods -and fields swings open--wide open to let everybody in. - -But perhaps you do not know what the shadbush is? That does not -matter. You can easily enough find that out. Some call it June-berry; -others call it service-berry; and the botany calls it _A-me-lan'chi-er -ca-na-den'sis_! But that does not matter either. For this is not a -botany lesson. It is an account of how springtime comes to _me_, and -when and what are its signs. And I would have you read it to think how -springtime comes to _you_, and when and what are its signs. So, if the -dandelion, and not the shadbush, is your sign, then you must read -"dandelion" here every time I write "shadbush." - -There is an old saying, "He that would bring home the wealth of the -Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies out"; which is to say, -those who bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry out some -kind of wealth in exchange. So you who would enjoy or understand what -my shadbush means to me must have a shadbush of your own, or a -dandelion, or something that is a sign to you that spring is here. -Then, you see, my chapter in the book will become your own. - -There are so many persons who do not know one bird from another, one -tree from another, one flower from another; who would not know one -season from another did they not see the spring hats in the milliner's -window or feel the need of a change of coat. I hope you are not one of -them. I hope you are on the watch, instead, for the first phoebe or -the earliest bloodroot, or are listening to catch the shrill, brave -peeping of the little tree-frogs, the hylas. - -As for me, I am on the watch for the shadbush. Oh, yes, spring comes -before the shadbush opens, but it is likely not to stay. The wild -geese trumpet spring in the gray March skies as they pass; a February -rain, after a long cold season of snow, spatters your face with -spring; the swelling buds on the maples, the fuzzy kittens on the -pussy-willows, the opening marsh-marigolds in the meadows, the frogs, -the bluebirds--all of these, while they stay, are the spring. But they -are not sure to stay over night, here in New England. You may wake up -and find it snowing--until the shadbush opens. After that, hang up -your sled and skates, put away your overcoat and mittens; for spring -is here, and the honey-bees will buzz every bright day until the -October asters are in bloom. - -I said if you want springtime ahead of time you must have it in your -heart. Of course you must. If your heart is warm and your eye is keen, -you can go forth in the dead of winter and gather buds, seeds, -cocoons, and living things enough to make a little spring. For the -fires of summer are never wholly out. They are only banked in the -winter, smouldering always under the snow, and quick to brighten and -burst into blaze. There comes a warm day in January, and across your -thawing path crawls a woolly-bear caterpillar; a mourning-cloak -butterfly flits through the woods, and the juncos sing. That night a -howling snowstorm sweeps out of the north; the coals are covered -again. So they kindle and darken, until they leap from the ashes of -winter a pure, thin blaze in the shadbush, to burn higher and hotter -across the summer, to flicker and die away--a line of yellow -embers--in the weird witch-hazel of the autumn. - -At the sign of the shadbush the doors of my springtime swing wide -open. My birds are back, my turtles are out, my long sleeping -woodchucks are wide awake. There is not a stretch of woodland or -meadow now that shows a trace of winter. Over the pasture the bluets -are beginning to drift, as if the haze on the distant hills, floating -down in the night, had been caught in the dew-wet grass. They wash -the field to its borders in their delicate azure hue. At the sign of -the shadbush the doors of my memory, too, swing wide open, and I am a -boy again in the meadows of my old home. The shadbush is in blossom, -and the fish are running--the sturgeon up the Delaware; the shad up -Cohansey Creek; and through the Lower Sluice, these soft, stirring -nights, the catfish are slipping. Is there any real boy now in -Lupton's Meadows to watch them come? Oh yes, doubtless; and doubtless -there ever shall be. But I would go down for this one night, down in -the May moonlight, and listen, as I used to listen years ago, for the -quiet _splash splash splash_, as the swarming catfish pass through the -shallows of the main ditch, up toward the dam at the pond. - -At the sign of the shadbush how swiftly the tides of life begin to -rise! How mysteriously their currents run!--the fish swimming in from -the sea, the birds flying up from the South, the flowers opening fresh -from the soil, the insects coming out from their sleep: life moving -everywhere--across the heavens, over the earth, along the deep, dim -aisles of the sea! - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SPRING RUNNING - - -This title is Kipling's; the observations that follow are mine; but -the real spring running is yours and mine and Kipling's and Mowgli the -wolf-child's, whose running Kipling has told us about. Indeed, every -child of the earth has felt it, has had the running--every living -thing of the land and the sea. - -Everything feels it; everything is restless, everything is moving. The -renter changes houses; the city dweller goes "down to the shore" or up -to the mountains to open his summer cottage; the farmer starts to -break up the land for planting; the schoolchildren begin to squirm in -their seats and long to fly out of the windows; and "Where are you -_going_ this summer?" is on every one's lips. - -They have all caught the spring running, the only infection I know -that you can catch from April skies. The very sun has caught it, too, -and is lengthening out his course, as if he hated to stop and go to -bed at night. And the birds, that are supposed to go to bed most -promptly, they sleep, says the good old poet Chaucer, with open eye, -these April nights, so bad is their case of spring running,-- - - "So priketh hem Nature in hir corages."[1] - -[Footnote 1: So nature pricks (stirs) them in their hearts.] - -Their long journey northward over sea and land has not cured them yet -of their unrest. Only one thing will do it (and I suppose we all -should be glad), one sovereign remedy, and that is _family cares_. But -they are yet a long way off. - -Meantime watch your turkey-hen, how she saunters down the field alone, -how pensive she looks, how lost for something to do and somewhere to -go. She is sick with this disease of spring. Follow her, keeping out -of sight yourself, and lo, a nest, hidden under a pile of brush in a -corner of the pasture fence, half a mile from home! - -The turkey-hen has wandered off half a mile to build her nest; but -many wild birds have come on their small wings all the way from the -forests of the Amazon and have gone on to Hudson Bay and the Fur -Countries, just to build their nests and rear their young. A wonderful -case of the spring running, you would say; and still more wonderful is -the annual journey of the golden plover from Patagonia to Alaska and -back, eight thousand miles each way. Yet there is another case that -seems to me more mysterious, and quite as wonderful, as the sea seems -more mysterious than the land. - -It is the spring running of the fish. For when the great tidal waves -of bird-life begin to roll northward with the sun, a corresponding -movement begins among the denizens of the sea. The cold-blooded fish -feel the stirring; the spring running seizes them, and in they come -through the pathless wastes of the ocean, waves of them, shoals of -them,--sturgeon, shad, herring,--like the waves and flocks of wild -geese, warblers, and swallows overhead,--into the brackish water of -the bays and rivers and on (the herring) into the fresh water of the -ponds. - -To watch the herring come up Weymouth Back River into Herring Run here -near my home, as I do every April, is to watch one of the most -interesting, most mysterious movements of all nature. It was about a -century ago that men of Weymouth brought herring in barrels of water -by ox-teams from Taunton River and liberated them in the pond at the -head of Weymouth Back River. These fish laid their eggs in the grassy -margins of the pond that spring and went out down the river to the -sea. Later on, the young fry, when large enough to care for -themselves, found their way down the river and out to sea. - -And where did they go then? and what did they do? Who can tell? for -who can read the dark book of the sea? Yet this one thing we know they -did, for still they are doing it after all these hundred years,--they -came back up the river, when they were full-grown,--up the river, up -the run, up into the pond, to lay their eggs in the waters where they -were hatched, in the waters that to them were _home_. - -Something very much like this all the other fish are doing, as are the -birds also. The spell of _home_ is over land and sea, and has been -laid upon them all. The bird companies of the fall went south at the -inexorable command of Hunger; but a greater than Hunger is in command -of the forces of spring. Now our vast bird army of North America, five -billion strong, is moving northward at the call of Home. And the hosts -of the sea, whose shining billions we cannot number,--they, too, are -coming up, some of them far up through the shallow streams to the -wood-walled ponds for a drink of the sweet waters of Home. - -As a boy I used to go down to the meadows at night to hear the catfish -coming, as now I go down to the village by day to see the herring -coming. The catfish would swim in from the Cohansey, through the -sluices in the bank, then up by way of the meadow ditches to the dam -over which fall the waters of Lupton's Pond. - -It was a seven-or eight-foot dam, and of course the fish could not -climb it. Down under the splashing water they would crowd by hundreds, -their moving bodies close-packed, pushing forward, all trying to break -through the wooden wall that blocked their way. Slow, stupid things -they looked; but was not each big cat head pointed forward? each -slow, cold brain trying to follow and keep up with each swift, warm -heart? For the homeward-bound heart knows no barrier; it never stops -for a dam. - -The herring, too, on their way up the run are stopped by a dam; but -the town, in granting to certain men the sole rights to catch the -fish, stipulated that a number of the live herring, as many as several -barrels full, should be helped over the dam each spring that they -might go on up to the pond to deposit their eggs. If this were not -done annually, the fish would soon cease to come, and the Weymouth -herring would be no more. - -There was no such lift for the catfish under Lupton's dam. I often -tossed them over into the pond, and so helped to continue the line; -but perhaps there was no need, for spring after spring they returned. -They were the young fish, I suppose, new each year, from parent fish -that remain inside the pond the year round. - -I cannot say now--I never asked myself before--whether it is Mother or -Father Catfish who stays with the swarm (it is literally a swarm) of -kitten catfish. It may be father, as in the case of Father Stickleback -and Father Toadfish, who cares for the children. If it is--I take off -my hat to him. I have four of my own; and I think if I had eighteen or -twenty more I should have both hands full. But Father Catfish! Did you -ever see his brood? - -I should say that there might easily be five hundred young ones in -the family, though I never have counted them. But you might. If you -want to try it, take your small scoop-net of coarse cheesecloth, or -mosquito-netting, and go down to the pond this spring. Close along the -margin you will see holes in the shallow water running up under the -overhanging grass and roots. The holes were made probably by the -muskrats. It is in here that the old catfish is guarding the brood. - -As soon as you learn to know the holes, you can cover the entrance -with your net, and then by jumping or stamping hard on the ground -above the hole, you will drive out the old fish with a flop, the -family following in a fine, black cloud. The old fish will swim away, -then come slowly back to the scattered swarm, to the little black -things that look like small tadpoles, who soon cluster about the -parent once more and wiggle away into the deep, dark water of the -pond--the strangest family group that I know in all the spring world. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -AN OLD APPLE TREE - - -Beyond the meadow, perhaps half a mile from my window, stands an old -apple tree, the last of an ancient line that once marked the boundary -between the "upper" and the "lower" pastures. It is a bent, broken, -hoary old tree, grizzled with suckers from feet to crown. No one has -pruned it for half a century; no one ever gathers its gnarly -apples--no one but the cattle who love to lie in its shadow and munch -its fruit. - -The cows know the tree. One of their winding paths runs under its -low-hung branches; and as I frequently travel the cow-paths, I also -find my way thither. Yet I do not go for apples, nor just because the -cow-path takes me. That old apple tree is hollow, hollow all over, -trunk and branches, as hollow as a lodging-house; and I have never -known it when it was not "putting up" some wayfaring visitor or some -permanent lodger. So I go over, whenever I have a chance, to call upon -my friends or pay my respects to the distinguished guests. - -This old tree is on the neighboring farm. It does not belong to me, -and I am glad; for if it did, then I should have to trim it, and -scrape it, and plaster up its holes, and put a burlap petticoat on -it, all because of the gruesome gypsy moths that infest my trees. Oh, -yes, that would make it bear better apples, but what then would become -of its birds and beasts? Everybody ought to have _one_ apple tree that -bears birds and beasts--and Baldwin apples, too, of course, if the -three sorts of fruit can be made to grow on the same tree. But only -the birds and beasts grow well on the untrimmed, unscraped, -unplastered, unpetticoated old tree yonder between the pastures. His -heart is wide open to every small traveler passing by. - -Whenever I look over toward the old tree, I think of the old -vine-covered, weather-beaten house in which my grandfather lived, -where many a traveler put up over night--to get a plate of -grandmother's buckwheat cakes, I think, and a taste of her keen wit. -The old house sat in under a grove of pin oak and pine,--"Underwood" -we called it,--a sheltered, sheltering spot; with a peddler's stall in -the barn, a peddler's place at the table, a peddler's bed in the herby -garret, a boundless, fathomless featherbed, of a piece with the house -and the hospitality. There were larger houses and newer, in the -neighborhood; but no other house in all the region, not even the -tavern, two miles farther down the pike, was half so central, or so -homelike, or so full of sweet and juicy gossip. The old apple tree -yonder between the woods and the meadow is as central, as hospitable, -and, if animals talk with one another, just as full of neighborhood -news as was grandfather's roof-tree. - -Of course you would never suspect it, passing by. But then, no lover -of wild things passes by--never without first stopping, and especially -before an old tree all full of holes. Whenever you see a hole in a -tree, in a sand-bank, in a hillside, under a rail-pile--anywhere out -of doors, stop! - -Stop here beside this decrepit apple tree. No, you will find no sign -swinging from the front, no door-plate, no letter-box bearing the name -of the family residing here. The birds and beasts do not advertise -their houses so. They would hide their houses, they would have you -pass by; for most persons are rude in the woods and fields, breaking -into the homes of the wood-folk as they never would dream of doing in -the case of their human neighbors. - -There is no need of being rude anywhere, no need of being an unwelcome -visitor even to the shyest and most timid of the little people of the -fields. Come over with me--they know me in the old apple tree. It is -nearly sundown. The evening is near, with night at its heels, for it -is an early March day. - -We shall not wait long. The doors will open that we may enter--enter -into a home of the fields, and, a little way at least, into a life of -the fields, for, as I have said, this old tree has a small dweller of -some sort the year round. - -On this March day we shall be admitted by my owls. They take -possession late in winter and occupy the tree, with some curious -fellow tenants, until early summer. I can count upon these small -screech owls by February,--the forlorn month, the seasonless, -hopeless, lifeless month of the year, but for its owls, its thaws, its -lengthening days, its cackling pullets, its possible bluebirds, and -its being the year's end! At least the ancients called February, not -December, the year's end, maintaining, with some sense, that the -making of the world was begun in March, that is, with the spring. The -owls do not, like the swallows, bring the spring, but they -nevertheless help winter with most seemly haste into an early grave. - -If, as the dusk comes down, I cannot go over to the tree, I will go to -my window and watch. I cannot see him, the grim-beaked baron with his -hooked talons, his ghostly wings, his night-seeing eyes, but I know -that he has come to his window in the apple-tree turret yonder against -the darkening sky, and that he watches with me. I cannot see him swoop -downward over the ditches, nor see him quarter the meadow, beating, -dangling, dropping between the flattened tussocks; nor can I hear him, -as, back on the silent shadows, he slants upward again to his tower. -Mine are human eyes, human ears. Even the quick-eared meadow mouse did -not hear until the long talons closed and it was too late. - -[Illustration: SCREECH OWL--"OUT OVER THE MEADOW HE SAILS"] - -But there have been times when, like some belated traveler, I have -been forced to cross this wild night-land of his; and I have _felt_ -him pass--so near at times that he has stirred my hair, by the -wind--dare I say?--of his mysterious wings. At other times I have -heard him. Often on the edge of night I have listened to his -quavering, querulous cry from the elm-tops below me by the meadow. But -oftener I have watched at the casement here in my castle wall. - -Away yonder on the borders of night, dim and gloomy, looms his ancient -keep. I wait. Soon on the deepened dusk spread his soft wings, out -over the meadow he sails, up over my wooded height, over my moat, to -my turret tall, as silent and unseen as the soul of a shadow, except -he drift across the face of the full round moon, or with his weird cry -cause the dreaming quiet to stir in its sleep and moan. - -Now let us go over again to the old tree, this time in May. It will be -curious enough, as the soft dusk comes on, to see the round face of -the owl in one hole and, out of another hole in the broken limb above, -the flat, weazened face of a little tree-toad. - -Both creatures love the dusk; both have come forth to their open doors -to watch the darkening; both will make off under the cover of the -night--one for mice and frogs over the meadow, the other for slugs and -insects over the crooked, tangled limbs of the apple tree. - -It is strange enough to see them together, but it is stranger still -to think of them together; for it is just such prey as this little -toad that the owl has gone over the meadow to catch. - -Why does he not take the supper ready here on the shelf? There may be -reasons that we, who do not eat tree-toad, know nothing of; but I am -inclined to believe that the owl has never seen his fellow lodger in -the doorway above, though he must often have heard him trilling gently -and lonesomely in the gloaming, when his skin cries for rain! - -Small wonder if they have never met! for this gray, squat, disk-toed -little monster in the hole, or flattened on the bark of the tree like -a patch of lichen, may well be one of the things that are hidden from -even the sharp-eyed owl. It is always a source of fresh amazement, the -way that this largest of the hylas, on the moss-marked rind of an old -tree, can utterly blot himself out before your staring eyes. - -The common toads and all the frogs have enemies enough, and it would -seem from the comparative scarcity of the tree-toads that they must -have enemies, too; but I do not know who they are. This scarcity of -the tree-toads is something of a puzzle, and all the more to me, that, -to my certain knowledge, this toad has lived in the old Baldwin tree, -now, for five years. Perhaps he has been several toads, you say, not -one; for who can tell one tree-toad from another? Nobody; and for that -reason I made, some time ago, a simple experiment, in order to see -how long a tree-toad might live, unprotected, in his own natural -environment. - -Upon moving into this house, about nine years ago, we found a -tree-toad living in the big hickory by the porch. For the next three -springs he reappeared, and all summer long we would find him, now on -the tree, now on the porch, often on the railing and backed tight up -against a post. Was he one or many? we asked. Then we marked him; and -for the next four years we knew that he was himself alone. How many -more years he might have lived in the hickory for us all to pet, I -should like to know; but last summer, to our great sorrow, the gypsy -moth killers, poking in the hole, hit our little friend and left him -dead. - -It was very wonderful to me, the instinct for home--the love for home, -I should like to call it--that this humble little creature showed. -Now, a toad is an amphibian to the zoologist; an ugly gnome with a -jeweled eye, to the poet; but to the naturalist, the lover of life for -its own sake, who lives next door to his toad, who feeds him a fly or -a fat grub now and then, who tickles him to sleep with a rose leaf, -who waits as thirstily as the hilltop for him to call the summer rain, -who knows his going to sleep for the winter, his waking up for the -spring--to such a one, I say, a tree-toad means more than the jeweled -eye and the strange amphibious habits. - -This small tree-toad had a home, had it in a tree, too,--in a hickory -tree,--this toad that dwelt by my house. - - "East, west, - Hame's best," - -croaked our tree-toad in a tremulous, plaintive song that wakened -memories in the vague twilight of more old, unhappy, far-off things -than any other voice I ever knew. - -These two tree-toads could not have been induced to trade houses, the -hickory for the apple, because a house to a toad means home, and a -home is never in the market. There are many more houses in the land -than homes. Most of us are only real-estate dealers. Many of us have -never had a home; and none of us has ever had, perhaps, more than one, -or could have--that home of our childhood. - -This toad seemed to feel it all. Here in the hickory for four years -(more nearly seven, I am sure) he lived, single and alone. He would go -down to the meadow when the toads gathered there to lay their eggs; -but back he would come, without mate or companion, to his tree. -Stronger than love of kind, than love of mate, constant and dominant -in his slow cold heart was his instinct for home. - -If I go down to the orchard and bring up from an apple tree some other -toad to dwell in the hole of the hickory, I shall fail. He might -remain for the day, but not throughout the night, for with the -gathering twilight there steals upon him an irresistible longing; and -guided by it, as bee and pigeon and dog and man are guided, he makes -his sure way back to his orchard home. - -Would my toad of the Baldwin tree go back beyond the orchard, over the -road, over the wide meadow, over to the old tree, half a mile away, if -I brought him from there? We shall see. During the coming summer I -shall mark him in some manner, and bringing him here to the hickory, I -shall then watch the old apple tree yonder to see if he returns. It -will be a hard, perilous journey. But his longing will not let him -rest; and, guided by his mysterious sense of direction,--for that -_one_ place,--he will arrive, I am sure, or he will die on the way. - -Suppose he never gets back? Only one toad less? A great deal more than -that. There in the old Baldwin he has made his home for I don't know -how long, hunting over its world of branches in the summer, sleeping -down in its deep holes during the winter--down under the chips and -punk and castings, beneath the nest of the owls, it may be; for my -toad in the hickory always buried himself so, down in the debris at -the bottom of the hole, where, in a kind of cold storage, he preserved -himself until thawed out by the spring. - -I never pass the old apple in the summer but that I stop to pay my -respects to the toad; nor in the winter that I do not pause and think -of him asleep in there. He is no longer mere toad. He has passed into -the Guardian Spirit of the tree, warring in the green leaf against -worm and grub and slug, and in the dry leaf hiding himself, a heart of -life, within the thin ribs, as if to save the old shell of a tree to -another summer. - -Often in the dusk, especially the summer dusk, I have gone over to sit -at his feet and learn some of the things that my school-teachers and -college professors did not teach me. - -Seating myself comfortably at the foot of the tree, I wait. The toad -comes forth to the edge of his hole above me, settles himself -comfortably, and waits. And the lesson begins. The quiet of the summer -evening steals out with the wood-shadows and softly covers the fields. -We do not stir. An hour passes. We do not stir. Not to stir is the -lesson--one of the primary lessons in this course with the toad. - -The dusk thickens. The grasshoppers begin to strum; the owl slips out -and drifts away; a whip-poor-will drops on the bare knoll near me, -clucks and shouts and shouts again, his rapid repetition a thousand -times repeated by the voices that call to one another down the long -empty aisles of the swamp; a big moth whirs about my head and is -gone; a bat flits squeaking past; a firefly blazes, is blotted out by -the darkness, blazes again, and so passes, his tiny lantern flashing -into a night that seems the darker for his quick, unsteady glow. - -We do not stir. It is a hard lesson. By all my other teachers I had -been taught every manner of stirring, and this strange exercise of -being still takes me where my body is weakest, and puts me almost out -of breath. - -What! out of breath by keeping still? Yes, because I had been hurrying -hither and thither, doing this and that--doing them so fast for so -many years that I no longer understood how to sit down and keep still -and do nothing inside of me as well as outside. Of course _you_ know -how to keep still, for you are children. And so perhaps you do not -need to take lessons of teacher Toad. But I do, for I am grown up, and -a man, with a world of things to do, a great many of which I do not -need to do at all--if only I would let the toad teach me all he knows. - -So, when I am tired, I will go over to the toad. I will sit at his -feet, where time is nothing, and the worry of work even less. He has -all time and no task. He sits out the hour silent, thinking--I know -not what, nor need to know. So we will sit in silence, the toad and I, -watching Altair burn along the shore of the horizon, and overhead -Arcturus, and the rival fireflies flickering through the leaves of -the apple tree. And as we watch, I shall have time to rest and to -think. Perhaps I shall have a thought, a thought all my own, a rare -thing for any one to have, and worth many an hour of waiting. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS SPRING - - -Out of the multitude of sights, which twelve sights this spring shall -I urge you to see? Why the twelve, of course, that I always look for -most eagerly. And the first of these, I think, is the bluebird. - - -I - -"Have you seen a bluebird yet?" some friend will ask me, as March -comes on. Or it will be, "I have seen my first bluebird!" as if seeing -a first bluebird were something very wonderful and important. And so -it is; for the sight of the first March bluebird is the last sight of -winter and the first sight of spring. The brown of the fertile earth -is on its breast, the blue of the summer sky is on its back, and in -its voice is the clearest, sweetest of all invitations to come out of -doors. - -Where has he spent the winter? Look it up. What has brought him back -so early? Guess at it. What does he say as he calls to you? Listen. -What has John Burroughs written about him? Look it up and read. - - -II - -You must see the skunk-cabbage abloom in the swamp. You need not pick -it and carry it home for the table--just see it. But be sure you see -it. Get down and open the big purple-streaked spathe, as it spears the -cold mud, and look at the "spadix" covered with its tiny but perfect -flowers. Now wait a minute. The woods are still bare; ice may still be -found on the northern slopes, while here before you, like a wedge -splitting the frozen soil, like a spear cleaving through the earth -from the other, the summer, side of the world, is this broad blade of -life letting up almost the first cluster of the new spring's flowers. -Wait a moment longer and you may hear your first bumblebee, as he -comes humming at the door of the cabbage for a taste of new honey and -pollen. - - -III - -Among the other early signs of spring, you should see a flock of -red-winged blackbirds! And what a sight they are upon a snow-covered -field! For often after their return it will snow again, when the -brilliant, shining birds in black with their red epaulets make one of -the most striking sights of the season. - - -IV - -Another bird event that you should witness is the arrival of the -migrating warblers. You will be out one of these early May days when -there will be a stirring of small birds in the bushes at your side, in -the tall trees over your head--everywhere! It is the warblers. You are -in the tide of the tiny migrants--yellow warblers, pine warblers, -myrtle warblers, black-throated green warblers--some of them on their -way from South America to Labrador. You must be in the woods and see -them as they come. - - -V - -You should see the "spice-bush" (wild allspice or fever-bush or -Benjamin-bush) in bloom in the damp March woods. And, besides that, -you should see with your own eyes under some deep, dark forest trees -the blue hepatica and on some bushy hillside the pink arbutus. (For -fear I forget to tell you in the chapter of things to do, let me now -say that you should take a day this spring and go "may-flowering.") - - -VI - -There are four nests that you should see this spring: a hummingbird's -nest, saddled upon the horizontal limb of some fruit or forest tree, -and looking more like a wart on the limb than a nest; secondly, the -nest, eggs rather, of a turtle buried in the soft sand along the -margin of a pond or out in some cultivated field; thirdly, the nest of -a sun-fish (pumpkin-seed) in the shallow water close up along the -sandy shore of the pond; and fourthly, the nest of the red squirrel, -made of fine stripped cedar bark, away up in the top of some tall pine -tree! I mean by this that there are many other interesting -nest-builders besides the birds. Of all the difficult nests to find, -the hummingbird's is the most difficult. When you find one, please -write to me about it. - - -VII - -You should see a "spring peeper," the tiny Pickering's frog--_if you -can_. The marsh and the meadows will be vocal with them, but one of -the hardest things that you will try to do this spring will be to see -the shrill little piper, as he plays his bagpipe in the rushes at your -very feet. But hunt until you do see him. It will sharpen your eyes -and steady your patience for finding other things. - - -VIII - -You should see the sun come up on a May morning. The dawn is always a -wonderful sight, but never at other times attended with quite the -glory, with quite the music, with quite the sweet fragrance, with -quite the wonder of a morning in May. Don't fail to see it. Don't fail -to rise with it. You will feel as if you had wings--something better -even than wings. - - -IX - -You should see a farmer ploughing in a large field--the long straight -furrows of brown earth; the blackbirds following behind after worms; -the rip of the ploughshare; the roll of the soil from the smooth -mould-board--the wealth of it all. For in just such fields is the -wealth of the world, and the health of it, too. Don't miss the sight -of the ploughing. - - -X - -Go again to the field, three weeks later, and see it all green with -sprouting corn, or oats, or one of a score of crops. Then--but in "The -Fall of the Year" I ask you to go once more and see that field all -covered with shocks of ripened corn, shocks that are pitched up and -down its long rows of corn-butts like a vast village of Indian tepees, -each tepee full of golden corn. - - -XI - -You should see, hanging from a hole in some old apple tree, a long -thin snake-skin! It is the latch-string of the great crested -flycatcher. Now why does this bird always use a snake-skin in his -nest? and why does he usually leave it hanging loose outside the hole? -Questions, these, for you to think about. And if you will look sharp, -you will see in even the commonest things questions enough to keep you -thinking as long as you live. - - -XII - -You should see a dandelion. A dandelion? Yes, a dandelion, "fringing -the dusty road with harmless gold." But that almost requires four -eyes--two to see the dandelion and two more to see the gold--the two -eyes in your head, and the two in your imagination. Do you really know -how to see anything? Most persons have eyes, but only a few really -see. This is because they cannot look hard and steadily at anything. -The first great help to real seeing is to go into the woods knowing -what you hope to see--seeing it in your eye, as we say, before you see -it in the out-of-doors. No one would ever see a tree-toad on a mossy -tree or a whip-poor-will among the fallen leaves who did not have -tree-toads and whip-poor-wills in mind. Then, secondly, look at the -thing _hard_ until you see in it something peculiar, something -different from anything like it that you ever saw before. Don't dream -in the woods; don't expect the flowers to tell you their names or the -wild things to come up and ask you to wait while they perform for -you. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -IF YOU HAD WINGS - - -If you had wings, why of course you would wear feathers instead of -clothes, and you might be a crow! And then of course you would steal -corn, and run the risk of getting three of your big wing feathers shot -away. - -All winter long, and occasionally during this spring, I have seen one -of my little band of crows flying about with a big hole in his -wing,--at least three of his large wing feathers gone, shot away -probably last summer,--which causes him to fly with a list or limp, -like an automobile with a flattened tire, or a ship with a shifted -ballast. - -Now for nearly a year that crow has been hobbling about on one whole -and one half wing, trusting to luck to escape his enemies, until he -can get three new feathers to take the places of those that are -missing. "Well, why doesn't he get them?" you ask. If you were that -crow, how would you get them? Can a crow, by taking thought, add three -new feathers to his wing? - -Certainly not. That crow must wait until wing-feather season comes -again, just as an apple tree must wait until apple-growing season -comes to hang its boughs with luscious fruit. The crow has nothing to -do with it. His wing feathers are supplied by Nature once a year -(after the nesting-time), and if a crow loses any of them, even if -right after the new feathers had been supplied, that crow will have to -wait until the season for wing feathers comes around once more--if -indeed he can wait and does not fall a prey to hawk or owl or the -heavy odds of winter. - -But Nature is not going to be hurried on that account, nor caused to -change one jot or tittle from her wise and methodical course. The -Bible says that the hairs of our heads are numbered. So are the -feathers on a crow's body. Nature knows just how many there are -altogether; how many there are of each sort--primaries, secondaries, -tertials, greater coverts, middle coverts, lesser coverts, and -scapulars--in the wing; just how each sort is arranged; just when each -sort is to be moulted and renewed. If Master Crow does not take care -of his clothes, then he will have to go without until the time for a -new suit comes; for Mother Nature won't patch them up as your mother -patches up yours. - -But now this is what I want you to notice and think about: that just -as an apple falls according to a great law of Nature, so a bird's -feathers fall according to a law of Nature. The moon is appointed for -seasons; the sun knoweth his going down; and so light and -insignificant a thing as a bird's feather not only is appointed to -grow in a certain place at a certain time, but also knoweth its -falling off. - -Nothing could look more haphazard, certainly, than the way a hen's -feathers seem to drop off at moulting time. The most forlorn, undone, -abject creature about the farm is the half-moulted hen. There is one -in the chicken-yard now, so nearly naked that she really is ashamed of -herself, and so miserably helpless that she squats in a corner all -night, unable to reach the low poles of the roost. It is a critical -experience with the hen, this moulting of her feathers; and were it -not for the protection of the yard it would be a fatal experience, so -easily could she be captured. Nature seems to have no hand in the -business at all; if she has, then what a mess she is making of it! - -But pick up the hen, study the falling of the feathers carefully, and -lo! here is law and order, every feather as important to Nature as a -star, every quill as a planet, and the old white hen as mightily -looked after by Nature as the round sphere of the universe! - -Once a year, usually after the nesting-season, it seems a physical -necessity for most birds to renew their plumage. - -We get a new suit (some of us) because our old one wears out. That is -the most apparent cause for the new annual suit of the birds. Yet with -them, as with some of us, the feathers go out of fashion, and then the -change of feathers is a mere matter of style, it seems. - -For severe and methodical as Mother Nature must be (and what mother or -teacher or ruler, who has great things to do and a multitude of little -things to attend to, must not be severe and methodical?)--severe, I -say, as Mother Nature must be in looking after her children's clothes, -she has for all that a real motherly heart, it seems. - -For see how she looks after their wedding garments--giving to most of -the birds a new suit, gay and gorgeous, especially to the bridegrooms, -as if fine feathers _did_ make a fine bird! Or does she do all of this -to meet the fancy of the bride, as the scientists tell us? Whether so -or not, it is a fact that among the birds it is the bridegroom who is -adorned for his wife, and sometimes the fine feathers come by a -special moult--an extra suit for him! - -Take Bobolink, for instance. He has two complete moults a year, two -new suits, one of them his wedding suit. Now, as I write, I hear him -singing over the meadow--a jet-black, white, and cream-buff lover, -most strikingly adorned. His wife, down in the grass, looks as little -like him as a sparrow looks like a blackbird. But after the -breeding-season he will moult again, changing color so completely that -he and his wife and children will all look alike, all like sparrows, -and will even lose their names, flying south now under the name of -"reed-birds." - -Bobolink passes the winter in Brazil; and in the spring, just before -the long northward journey begins, he lays aside his fall traveling -clothes and puts on his gay wedding garments and starts north for his -bride. But you would hardly know he was so dressed, to look at him; -for, strangely enough, he is not black and white, but still colored -like a sparrow, as he was in the fall. _Apparently_ he is. Look at him -more closely, however, and you will find that the brownish-yellow -color is all caused by a veil of fine fringes hanging from the edges -of the feathers. The bridegroom wearing the wedding veil? Yes! -Underneath is the black and white and cream-buff suit. He starts -northward; and, by the time he reaches Massachusetts, the fringe veil -is worn off and the black and white bobolink appears. Specimens taken -after their arrival here still show traces of the brownish-yellow -veil. - -Many birds do not have this early spring moult at all; and with most -of those that do, the great wing feathers are not then renewed as are -bobolink's, but only at the annual moult after the nesting is done. -The great feathers of the wings are, as you know, the most important -feathers a bird has; and the shedding of them is so serious a matter -that Nature has come to make the change according to the habits and -needs of the birds. With most birds the body feathers begin to go -first, then the wing feathers, and last those of the tail. But the -shedding of the wing feathers is a very slow and carefully regulated -process. - -In the wild geese and other water birds the wing feathers drop out -with the feathers of the body, and go so nearly together that the -birds really cannot fly. On land you could catch the birds with your -hands. But they keep near or on the water and thus escape, though -times have been when it was necessary to protect them at this season -by special laws; for bands of men would go into their nesting-marshes -and kill them with clubs by hundreds! - -The shedding of the feathers brings many risks to the birds; but -Nature leaves none of her children utterly helpless. The geese at this -time cannot fly because their feathers are gone; but they can swim, -and so get away from most of their natural enemies. On the other hand, -the hawks that hunt by wing, and must have wings always in good -feather, or else perish, lose their feathers so slowly that they never -feel their loss. It takes a hawk nearly a year to get a complete -change of wing feathers, one or two dropping out from each wing at a -time, at long intervals apart. - -Then here is the gosling, that goes six weeks in down, before it gets -its first feathers, which it sheds within a few weeks, in the fall. -Whereas the young quail is born with quills so far grown that it is -able to fly almost as soon as it is hatched. These are real mature -feathers; but the bird is young and soon outgrows these first flight -feathers, so they are quickly lost and new ones come. This goes on -till fall, _several_ moults occurring the first summer to meet the -increasing weight of the little quail's growing body. - -I said that Nature was severe and methodical, and so she is, where she -needs to be, so severe that you are glad, perhaps, that you are not a -crow. But Nature, like every wise mother, is severe only where she -needs to be. A crow's wing feathers are vastly important to him. Let -him then take care of them, for they are the best feathers made and -are put in to stay a year. But a crow's tail feathers are not so -vastly important to him; he could get on, if, like the rabbit in the -old song, he had no tail at all. - -In most birds the tail is a kind of balance or steering-gear, and not -of equal importance with the wings. Nature, consequently, seems to -have attached less importance to the feathers of the tail. They are -not so firmly set, nor are they of the same quality or kind; for, -unlike the wing feathers, if a tail feather is lost through accident, -it is made good, no matter when. How do you explain that? Do you think -I believe that old story of the birds roosting with their tails out, -so that, because of generations of lost tails, those feathers now grow -expecting to be plucked by some enemy, and therefore have only a -temporary hold? - -The normal, natural way, of course, is to replace a lost feather with -a new one as soon as possible. But, in order to give extra strength to -the wing feathers, Nature has found it necessary to check their -frequent change; and so complete is the check that the annual moult is -required to replace a single one. The Japanese have discovered the -secret of this check, and are able by it to keep certain feathers in -the tails of their cocks growing until they reach the enormous length -of ten to twelve feet. - -My crow, it seems, lost his three feathers last summer just after his -annual moult; the three broken shafts he carries still in his wing, -and must continue to carry, as the stars must continue their courses, -until those three feathers have rounded out their cycle to the annual -moult. The universe of stars and feathers is a universe of law, of -order, and of reason. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS SPRING - - -I do not know where to begin--there are so many interesting things to -do this spring! But, while we ought to be interested in all of the -out-of-doors, it is very necessary to select some _one_ field, say, -the birds or flowers, for _special_ study. That would help us to -decide what to do this spring. - - -I - -If there is still room under your window, or on the clothes-pole in -your yard, or in a neighboring tree, nail up another bird-house. (Get -"Methods of Attracting Birds" by Gilbert H. Trafton.) If the -bird-house is on a pole or post, invert a large tin pan over the end -of the post and nail the house fast upon it. This will keep cats and -squirrels from disturbing the birds. If the bird-house is in a tree, -saw off a limb, if you can without hurting the tree, and do the same -there. Cats are our birds' worst enemies. - - -II - -Cats! Begin in your own home and neighborhood a campaign against the -cats, to reduce their number and to educate their owners to the need -of keeping them well fed and shut up in the house from early evening -until after the early morning; for these are the cats' natural hunting -hours, when they do the greatest harm to the birds. - -This does not mean any cruelty to the cat--no stoning, no persecution. -The cat is not at fault. It is the keepers of the cats who need to be -educated. Out of every hundred nests in my neighborhood the cats of -two farmhouses destroy ninety-five! The state must come to the rescue -of the birds by some new rigid law reducing the number of cats. - - -III - -Speaking of birds, let me urge you to begin your watching and study -early--with the first robins and bluebirds--and to select some near-by -park or wood-lot or meadow to which you can go frequently. There is a -good deal in getting intimately acquainted with a locality, so that -you know its trees individually, its rocks, walls, fences, the very -qualities of its soil. Therefore you want a small area, close at hand. -Most observers make the mistake of roaming first here, then there, -spending their time and observation in finding their way around, -instead of upon the birds to be seen. You must get used to your paths -and trees before you can see the birds that flit about them. - - -IV - -In this haunt that you select for your observation, you must study not -only the birds but the trees, and the other forms of life, and the -shape of the ground (the "lay" of the land) as well, so as to know -_all_ that you see. In a letter just received from a teacher, who is -also a college graduate, occurs this strange description: "My window -faces a hill on which straggle brown houses among the deep green of -elms or oaks or maples, I don't know which." Perhaps the hill is far -away; but I suspect that the writer, knowing my love for the -out-of-doors, wanted to give me a vivid picture, but, not knowing one -tree from another, put them all in so I could make my own choice! - -Learn your common trees, common flowers, common bushes, common -animals, along with the birds. - - -V - -Plant a garden, if only a pot of portulacas, and _care_ for it, and -watch it grow! Learn to dig in the soil and to love it. It is amazing -how much and how many things you can grow in a box on the window-sill, -or in a corner of the dooryard. There are plants for the sun and -plants for the shade, plants for the wall, plants for the very cellar -of your house. Get you a bit of earth and plant it, no matter how busy -you are with other things this spring. - - -VI - -There are four excursions that you should make this spring: one to a -small pond in the woods; one to a deep, wild swamp; one to a wide -salt marsh or fresh-water meadow; and one to the seashore--to a wild -rocky or sandy shore uninhabited by man. - -There are particular birds and animals as well as plants and flowers -that dwell only in these haunts; besides, you will get a sight of four -distinct kinds of landscape, four deep impressions of the face of -nature that are altogether as good to have as the sight of four -flowers or birds. - - -VII - -Make a calendar of _your_ spring (read "Nature's Diary" by Francis H. -Allen)--when and where you find your first bluebird, robin, oriole, -etc.; when and where you find your first hepatica, arbutus, saxifrage, -etc.; and, as the season goes on, when and where the doings of the -various wild things take place. - - -VIII - -Boy or girl, you should go fishing--down to the pond or the river -where you go to watch the birds. Suppose you do not catch any fish. -That doesn't matter; for you have gone out to the pond with a pole in -your hands (a pole is a _real_ thing); you have gone with the _hope_ -(hope is a _real_ thing) of catching _fish_ (fish are _real_ things); -and even if you catch no fish, you will be sure, as you wait for the -fish to bite, to hear a belted kingfisher, or see a painted turtle, or -catch the breath of the sweet leaf-buds and clustered catkins opening -around the wooded pond. It is a very good thing for the young -naturalist to learn to sit still. A fish-pole is a great help in -learning that necessary lesson. - - -IX - -One of the most interesting things you can do for special study is to -collect some frogs' eggs from the pond and watch them grow into -tadpoles and on into frogs. There are glass vessels made particularly -for such study (an ordinary glass jar will do). If you can afford a -small glass aquarium, get one and with a few green water plants put in -a few minnows, a snail or two, a young turtle, water-beetles, and -frogs' eggs, and watch them grow. - - -X - -You should get up by half past three o'clock (at the earliest streak -of dawn) and go out into the new morning with the birds! You will -hardly recognize the world as that in which your humdrum days (there -are no such days, really) are spent! All is fresh, all is new, and the -bird-chorus! "Is it possible," you will exclaim, "that this can be the -earth?" - -Early morning and toward sunset are the best times of the day for -bird-study. But if there was not a bird, there would be the sunrise -and the sunset--the wonder of the waking, the peace of the closing, -day. - - -XI - -I am not going to tell you that you should make a collection of -beetles or butterflies (you should _not_ make a collection of birds or -birds' eggs) or of pressed flowers or of minerals or of arrow-heads or -of--anything. Because, while such a collection is of great interest -and of real value in teaching you names and things, still there are -better ways of studying living nature. For instance, I had rather -have you tame a hop-toad, feed him, watch him evening after evening -all summer, than make any sort of dead or dried or pressed collection -of anything. Live things are better than those things dead. Better -know one live toad under your doorstep than bottle up in alcohol all -the reptiles of your state. - - -XII - -Finally you should remember that kindliness and patience and close -watching are the keys to the out-of-doors; that only sympathy and -gentleness and quiet are welcome in the fields and woods. What, then, -ought I to say that you should do finally? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE PALACE IN THE PIG-PEN - - -"You have taken a handful of my wooded acres," says Nature to me, "and -if you have not improved them, you at least have changed them greatly. -But they are mine still. Be friendly now, go softly, and you shall -have them all--and I shall have them all, too. We will share them -together." - -And we do. Every part of the fourteen acres is mine, yielding some -kind of food or fuel or shelter. And every foot, yes, every foot, is -Nature's; as entirely hers as when the thick primeval forest stood -here. The apple trees are hers as much as mine, and she has ten -different bird families that I know of, living in them this spring. A -pair of crows and a pair of red-tailed hawks are nesting in the -wood-lot; there are at least three families of chipmunks in as many of -my stone-piles; a fine old tree-toad sleeps on the porch under the -climbing rose; a hornet's nest hangs in a corner of the eaves; a small -colony of swifts thunder in the chimney; swallows twitter in the -hay-loft; a chipmunk and a half-tame gray squirrel feed in the barn; -and--to bring an end to this bare beginning--under the roof of the -pig-pen dwell a pair of phoebes. - -To make a bird-house of a pig-pen, to divide it between the pig and -the bird--this is as far as Nature can go, and this is certainly -enough to redeem the whole farm. For she has not sent an outcast or a -scavenger to dwell in the pen, but a bird of character, however much -he may lack in song or color. Phoebe does not make up well in a -picture; neither does he perform well as a singer; there is little to -him, in fact, but personality--personality of a kind and (may I say?) -quantity, sufficient to make the pig-pen a decent and respectable -neighborhood. - -Phoebe is altogether more than his surroundings. Every time I go to -feed the pig, he lights upon a post near by and says to me, "It's what -you are! Not what you do, but how you do it!"--with a launch into the -air, a whirl, an unerring snap at a cabbage butterfly, and an easy -drop to the post again, by way of illustration. "Not where you live, -but how you live there; not the feathers you wear, but how you wear -them--it is what you are that counts!" - -There is a difference between being a "character" and having one. My -phoebe "lives over the pig," but I cannot feel familiar with a bird -of his air and carriage, who faces the world so squarely, who settles -upon a stake as if he owned it, who lives a prince in my pig-pen. - -Look at him! How alert, able, free! Notice the limber drop of his -tail, the ready energy it suggests. By that one sign you would know -the bird had force. He is afraid of nothing, not even the cold; and he -migrates only because he is a flycatcher, and is thus compelled to. -The earliest spring day, however, that you find the flies buzzing in -the sun, look for phoebe. He is back, coming alone and long before -it is safe. He was one of the first of my birds to return this spring. - -And it was a fearful spring, this of which I am telling you. How -Phoebe managed to exist those miserable March days is a mystery. He -came directly to the pen as he had come the year before, and his -presence in that bleakest of Marches gave the weather its only touch -of spring. - -The same force and promptness are manifest in the domestic affairs of -the bird. One of the first to arrive this spring, he was the first to -build and bring off a brood--or, perhaps, _she_ was. And the size of -the brood--of the broods, for there was a second, and a third! - -Phoebe appeared without his mate, and for nearly three weeks he -hunted in the vicinity of the pen, calling the day long, and, toward -the end of the second week, occasionally soaring into the air, -fluttering, and pouring forth a small, ecstatic song that seemed -fairly forced from him. - -These aerial bursts meant just one thing: _she_ was coming, was coming -soon! Was she coming or was he getting ready to go for her? Here he -had been for nearly three weeks, his house-lot chosen, his mind at -rest, his heart beating faster with every sunrise. It was as plain as -day that he knew--was certain--just how and just when something lovely -was going to happen. I wished I knew. I was half in love with her -myself; and I, too, watched for her. - -On the evening of April 14th, he was alone as usual. The next morning -a pair of phoebes flitted in and out of the windows of the pen. Here -she was. Will some one tell me all about it? Had she just come along -and fallen instantly in love with him and his fine pig-pen? It is -pretty evident that he nested here last year. Was she, then, his old -mate? Did they keep together all through the autumn and winter? If so, -then why not together all the way back from Florida to Massachusetts? - -Here is a pretty story. But who will tell it to me? - -For several days after she came, the weather continued raw and wet, so -that nest-building was greatly delayed. The scar of an old, last -year's nest still showed on a stringer, and I wondered if they had -decided on this or some other site for the new nest. They had not made -up their minds, for when they did start it was to make three -beginnings in as many places. - -Then I offered a suggestion. Out of a bit of stick, branching at right -angles, I made a little bracket and tacked it up on one of the -stringers. It appealed to them at once, and from that moment the -building went steadily on. - -Saddled upon this bracket, and well mortared to the stringer, the -nest, when finished, was as safe as a castle. And how perfect a thing -it was! Few nests, indeed, combine the solidity, the softness, and the -exquisite inside curve of Phoebe's. - -In placing the bracket, I had carelessly nailed it under one of the -cracks in the loose board roof. The nest was receiving its first -linings when there came a long, hard rain that beat through the crack -and soaked the little cradle. This was serious, for a great deal of -mud had been worked into the thick foundation, and here, in the -constant shade, the dampness would be long in drying out. - -The builders saw the mistake, too, and with their great good sense -immediately began to remedy it. They built the bottom up thicker, -carried the walls over on a slant that brought the outermost point -within the line of the crack, then raised them until the cup was as -round-rimmed and hollow as the mould of Mrs. Phoebe's breast could -make it. - -The outside of the nest, its base, is broad and rough and shapeless -enough; but nothing could be softer and lovelier than the inside, the -cradle, and nothing drier, for the slanting walls of the nest shed -every drop from the leafy crack above. - -Wet weather followed the heavy rain until long after the nest was -finished. The whole structure was as damp and cold as a newly -plastered house. It felt wet to my touch. Yet I noticed that the birds -were already brooding. Every night and often during the day I would -see one of them in the nest--so deep in, that only a head or a tail -showed over the round rim. - -After several days I looked to see the eggs, but to my surprise found -the nest empty. It had been robbed, I thought, yet by what creature I -could not imagine. Then down cuddled one of the birds again--and I -understood. Instead of wet and cold, the nest to-day was warm to my -hand, and dry almost to the bottom. It had changed color, too, all the -upper part having turned a soft silver-gray. She (I am sure it was -she) had not been brooding her eggs at all; she had been brooding her -mother's thought of them; and for them had been nestling here these -days and nights, _drying and warming_ their damp cradle with the fire -of her life and love. - -In due time the eggs came,--five of them, white, spotless, and -shapely. While the little phoebe hen was hatching them, I gave my -attention further to the cock. - -Our intimate friendship revealed a most pleasing nature in phoebe. -Perhaps such close and continued association would show like qualities -in every bird, even in the kingbird; but I fear only a woman, like -Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, could find them in him. Not much can be said -of this flycatcher family, except that it is useful--a kind of virtue -that gets its chief reward in heaven. I am acquainted with only four -of the other nine Eastern members,--crested flycatcher, kingbird, wood -pewee, and chebec,--and each of these has some redeeming attribute -besides the habit of catching flies. - -They are all good nest-builders, good parents, and brave, independent -birds; but aside from phoebe and pewee--the latter in his small way -the sweetest voice of the oak woods--the whole family is an odd lot, -cross-grained, cross-looking, and about as musical as a family of -ducks. A duck seems to know that he cannot sing. A flycatcher knows -nothing of his shortcomings. He believes he can sing, and in time he -will prove it. If desire and effort count for anything, he certainly -must prove it in time. How long the family has already been training, -no one knows. Everybody knows, however, the success each flycatcher of -them has thus far attained. It would make a good minstrel show, -doubtless, if the family would appear together. In chorus, surely, -they would be far from a tuneful choir. Yet individually, in the wide -universal chorus of the out-of-doors, how much we should miss the -kingbird's metallic twitter and the chebec's insistent call! - -There was little excitement for phoebe during this period of -incubation. He hunted in the neighborhood and occasionally called to -his mate, contented enough perhaps, but certainly sometimes appearing -tired. - -[Illustration: PHOEBE AND HER YOUNG] - -One rainy day he sat in the pig-pen window looking out at the gray, -wet world. He was humped and silent and meditative, his whole attitude -speaking the extreme length of his day, the monotony of the drip, -drip, drip from the eaves, and the sitting, the ceaseless sitting, of -his brooding wife. He might have hastened the time by catching a few -flies for her or by taking her place on the nest; but I never saw him -do it. - -Things were livelier when the eggs hatched, for it required a good -many flies a day to keep the five young ones growing. And how they -grew! Like bread sponge in a pan, they began to rise, pushing the -mother up so that she was forced to stand over them; then pushing her -out until she could cling only to the side of the nest at night; then -pushing her off altogether. By this time they were hanging to the -outside themselves, covering the nest from sight almost, until finally -they spilled off upon their wings. - -Out of the nest upon the air! Out of the pen and into a sweet, wide -world of green and blue and of golden light! I saw one of the broods -take this first flight, and it was thrilling. - -The nest was placed back from the window and below it, so that in -leaving the nest the young would have to drop, then turn and fly up to -get out. Below was the pig. - -As they grew, I began to fear that they might try their wings before -this feat could be accomplished, and so fall to the pig below. But -Nature, in this case, was careful of her pearls. Day after day they -clung to the nest, even after they might have flown; and when they did -go, it was with a sure and long flight that carried them out and away -to the tops of the neighboring trees. - -They left the nest one at a time and were met in the air by their -mother, who, darting to them, calling loudly, and, whirling about -them, helped them as high and as far away as they could go. - -I wish the simple record of these family affairs could be closed -without one tragic entry. But that can rarely be of any family. Seven -days after the first brood were awing, I found the new eggs in the -nest. Soon after that the male bird disappeared. The second brood had -now been out a week, and in all that time no sight or sound was had of -the father. - -What happened? Was he killed? Caught by a cat or a hawk? It is -possible; and this is an easy and kindly way to think of him. It is -not impossible that he may have remained as leader and protector to -the first brood; or (perish the thought!) might he have grown weary at -sight of the second lot of five eggs, of the long days and the neglect -that they meant for him, and out of jealousy and fickleness wickedly -deserted? - -I hope it was death, a stainless, even ignominious death by one of my -neighbor's many cats. - -Death or desertion, it involved a second tragedy. Five such young ones -at this time were too many for the mother. She fought nobly; no mother -could have done more. All five were brought within a few days of -flight; then, one day, I saw a little wing hanging listlessly over the -side of the nest. I went closer. One had died. It had starved to -death. There were none of the parasites in the nest that often kill -whole broods. It was a plain case of sacrifice,--by the mother, -perhaps; by the other young, maybe--one for the other four. - -But she did well. Nine such young birds to her credit since April. Who -shall measure her actual use to the world? How does she compare in -value with the pig? Weeks later I saw several of her brood along the -meadow fence hawking for flies. They were not far from my -cabbage-patch. - -I hope a pair of them will return to me next spring and that they will -come early. Any bird that deigns to dwell under roof of mine commands -my friendship. But no other bird takes Phoebe's place in my -affections; there is so much in him to like, and he speaks for so much -of the friendship of nature. - -"Humble and inoffensive bird" he has been called by one of our leading -ornithologies--because he comes to my pig-pen! Inoffensive! this bird -with the cabbage butterfly in his beak! The faint and damning praise! -And humble? There is not a humble feather on his body. Humble to -those who see the pen and not the bird. But to me--why, the bird has -made a palace of my pig-pen! - -The very pig seems less a pig because of this exquisite association; -and the lowly work of feeding the creature has been turned for me by -Phoebe into a poetic course in bird study. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -IS IT A LIFE OF FEAR? - - -There was a swish of wings, a flash of gray, a cry of pain; a -squawking, cowering, scattering flock of hens; a weakly fluttering -pullet; and yonder, swinging upward into the sky, a marsh hawk, -buoyant and gleaming silvery in the sun. Over the trees he beat, -circled once, and disappeared. - -The hens were still flapping for safety in a dozen directions, but the -gray harrier had gone. A bolt of lightning could hardly have dropped -so unannounced, could hardly have vanished so completely, could -scarcely have killed so quickly. I ran to the pullet, but found her -dead. The harrier's stroke, delivered with fearful velocity, had laid -head and neck open as with a keen knife. Yet a little slower and he -would have missed, for the pullet warded off the other claw with her -wing. The gripping talons slipped off the long quills, and the hawk -swept on without his quarry. He dared not come back for it at my feet; -so, with a single turn above the woods he was gone. - -The scurrying hens stopped to look about them. There was nothing in -the sky to see. They stood still and silent a moment. The rooster -_chucked_. Then one by one they turned back into the open pasture. A -huddled group under the hen-yard fence broke up and came out with the -others. Death had flashed among them, but had missed _them_. Fear had -come, but it had gone. Within two minutes from the fall of the stroke, -every hen in the flock was intent at her scratching, or as intently -chasing the gray grasshoppers over the pasture. - -Yet, as the flock scratched, the high-stepping cock would frequently -cast up his eye toward the tree-tops; would sound his alarum at the -flight of a robin; and if a crow came over, he would shout and dodge -and start to run. But instantly the shadow would pass, and instantly -Chanticleer-- - - "He looketh as it were a grym leoun, - And on hise toos he rometh up and doun; - * * * * * - Thus roial as a prince is in an halle." - -He wasn't afraid. Cautious, alert, watchful he was, but not afraid. No -shadow of dread lay dark and ominous across the sunshine of his -pasture. Shadows came--like a flash; and like a flash they vanished -away. - -We cannot go far into the fields without sighting the hawk and the -snake, whose other names are Death. In one form or another Death moves -everywhere, down every wood-path and pasture-lane, through the black -waters of the mill-pond, out under the open of the April sky, night -and day, and every day, the four seasons through. - -I have seen the still surface of a pond break suddenly with a swirl, -and flash a hundred flecks of silver into the light, as the minnows -leap from the jaws of the terrible pike. Then a loud rattle, a streak -of blue, a splash at the centre of the swirl, and I see the pike -twisting and bending in the beak of the terrible kingfisher. The -killer is killed. But at the mouth of the nest-hole in the steep -sand-bank, swaying from a root in the edge of the turf above, hangs -the terrible black snake, the third killer; and the belted kingfisher, -dropping the pike, darts off with a startled cry. - -I have been afield at times when one tragedy has followed another in -such rapid and continuous succession as to put a whole shining, -singing, blossoming springtime under a pall. Everything has seemed to -cower, skulk, and hide, to run as if pursued. There was no peace, no -stirring of small life, not even in the quiet of the deep pines; for -here a hawk would be nesting, or a snake would be sleeping, or I -would hear the passing of a fox, see perhaps his keen, hungry face an -instant as he halted, winding me. - -There is struggle, and pain, and death in the woods, and there is fear -also, but the fear does not last long; it does not haunt and follow -and terrify; it has no being, no shape, no lair. The shadow of the -swiftest scudding cloud is not so fleeting as this Fear-shadow in the -woods. The lowest of the animals seem capable of feeling fear; yet the -very highest of them seem incapable of dreading it. For them Fear is -not of the imagination, but of the sight, and of the passing moment. - - "The present only toucheth thee!" - -It does more, it throngs him--our little fellow mortal of the -stubble-field. Into the present is lived the whole of his life--he -remembers none of it; he anticipates none of it. And the whole of this -life is action; and the whole of this action is joy. The moments of -fear in an animal's life are few and vanishing. Action and joy are -constant, the joint laws of all animal life, of all nature--of the -shining stars that sing together, of the little mice that squeak -together, of the bitter northeast storms that roar across the wintry -fields. - -I have had more than one hunter grip me excitedly, and with almost a -command bid me hear the music of the baying pack. There are hollow -halls in the swamps that lie to the east and north and west of me, -that catch up the cry of the foxhounds, that blend it, mellow it, -round it, and roll it, rising and falling over the meadows in great -globes of sound, as pure and sweet as the pearly notes of the veery -rolling round their silver basin in the summer dusk. - -What music it is when the pack breaks into the open on the warm trail! -A chorus then of tongues singing the ecstasy of pursuit! My blood -leaps; the natural primitive wild thing of muscle and nerve and -instinct within me slips its leash, and on past with the pack I drive, -the scent of the trail single and sweet in my nostrils, a very fire in -my blood, motion, motion, motion in my bounding muscles, and in my -being a mighty music, spheric and immortal! - - "The fair music that all creatures made - To their great Lord, whose love their motions swayed...." - -But what about the fox, loping wearily on ahead? What part has he in -the chorus? No part, perhaps, unless we grimly call him its conductor. -But the point is the chorus--that it never ceases, the hounds at this -moment, not the fox, in the leading role. - -"But the chorus ceases for me," you say. "My heart is with the poor -fox." So is mine, and mine is with the dogs too. No, don't say "Poor -little fox!" For many a night I have bayed with the pack, and as -often--oftener, I think--I have loped and dodged and doubled with the -fox, pitting limb against limb, lung against lung, wit against wit, -and always escaping. More than once, in the warm moonlight, I, the -fox, have led them on and on, spurring their lagging muscles with a -sight of my brush, on and on, through the moonlit night, through the -day, on into the moon again, and on until--only the stir of my own -footsteps has followed me. Then, doubling once more, creeping back a -little upon my track, I have looked at my pursuers, silent and stiff -upon the trail, and, ere the echo of their cry has died away, I have -caught up the chorus and carried it single-throated through the -wheeling, singing spheres. - -There is more of fact than of fancy to this. That a fox ever purposely -led a dog to run to death would be hard to prove; but that the dogs -run themselves to death in a single extended chase after a single fox -is a common occurrence here in the woods about the farm. Occasionally -the fox may be overtaken by the hounds; seldom, however, except in the -case of a very young one or of one unacquainted with the lay of the -land, a stranger that may have been driven into the rough country -here. - -I have been both fox and hound; I have run the race too often not to -know that both enjoy it at times, fox as much as hound. Some weeks ago -the dogs carried a young fox around and around the farm, hunting him -here, there, everywhere, as if in a game of hide-and-seek. An old fox -would have led the dogs on a long coursing run across the range. But -the young fox, after the dogs were caught and taken off the trail, -soon sauntered up through the mowing-field behind the barn, came out -upon the bare knoll near the house, and sat there in the moonlight -yapping down at Rex and Dewey, the house-dogs in the two farms below. -Rex is a Scotch collie, Dewey a dreadful mix of dog-dregs. He had been -tail-ender in the pack for a while during the afternoon. Both dogs -answered back at the young fox. But he could not egg them on. Rex was -too fat, Dewey had had enough; not so the young fox. It had been fun. -He wanted more. "Come on, Dewey!" he cried. "Come on, Rex, play tag -again! You're still 'it.'" - -I was at work with my chickens one spring day when the fox broke from -cover in the tall woods, struck the old wagon-road along the ridge, -and came at a gallop down behind the hen-coops, with five hounds not a -minute behind. They passed with a crash and were gone--up over the -ridge and down into the east swamp. Soon I noticed that the pack had -broken, deploying in every direction, beating the ground over and -over. Reynard had given them the slip--on the ridge-side, evidently, -for there were no cries from below in the swamp. - -Leaving my work at noon, I went down to restake my cow in the meadow. -I had just drawn her chain-pin when down the road through the orchard -behind me came the fox, hopping high up and down, his neck stretched, -his eye peeled for poultry. Spying a white hen of my neighbor's, he -made for her, clear to the barnyard wall. Then, hopping higher for a -better view, he sighted another hen in the front yard, skipped in -gayly through the fence, seized her, and loped across the road and -away up the birch-grown hills beyond. - -The dogs had been at his very heels ten minutes before. He had fooled -them. And no doubt he had done it again and again. They were even now -yelping at the end of the baffling trail behind the ridge. Let them -yelp. It is a kind and convenient habit of dogs, this yelping, one can -tell so exactly where they are. Meantime one can take a turn for one's -self at the chase, get a bite of chicken, a drink of water, a wink or -two of rest, and when the yelping gets warm again, one is quite ready -to pick up one's heels and lead the pack another merry dance. The fox -is quite a jolly fellow. - -This is the way the races out of doors are all run off. Now and then -they may end tragically. A fox cannot reckon on the hunter with a gun. -He is racing against the pack of hounds. But, mortal finish or no, the -spirit of the chase is neither rage nor terror, but the excitement of -a matched game, the ecstasy of pursuit for the hound, the passion of -escape for the fox, without fury or fear--except for the instant at -the start and at the finish--when it is a finish. - -This is the spirit of the chase--of the race, more truly; for it is -always a race, where the stake is not life and death, but rather the -joy of winning. The hound cares as little for his own life as for the -life of the fox he is hunting. It is the race, instead, that he loves; -it is the moments of crowded, complete, supreme existence for -him--"glory" we call it when men run it off together. Death, and the -fear of death, the animals can neither understand nor feel. Only -enemies exist in the world out of doors, only hounds, foxes, -hawks--they, and their scents, their sounds and shadows; and not fear, -but readiness only. The level of wild life, of the soul of all nature, -is a great serenity. It is seldom lowered, but often raised to a -higher level, intenser, faster, more exultant. - -The serrate pines on my horizon are not the pickets of a great pen. My -fields and swamps and ponds are not one wide battle-field, as if the -only work of my wild neighbors were bloody war, and the whole of their -existence a reign of terror. This is a universe of law and order and -marvelous balance; conditions these of life, of normal, peaceful, -joyous life. Life and not death is the law; joy and not fear is the -spirit, is the frame of all that breathes, of very matter itself. - - "And ever at the loom of Birth - The Mighty Mother weaves and sings; - She weaves--fresh robes for mangled earth; - She sings--fresh hopes for desperate things." - -But suppose the fox were a defenseless rabbit, what of fear and terror -then? - -Ask any one who has shot in the rabbity fields of southern New Jersey. -The rabbit seldom runs in blind terror. He is soft-eyed, and timid, -and as gentle as a pigeon, but he is not defenseless. A nobler set of -legs was never bestowed by nature than the little cottontail's. They -are as wings compared with the bent, bow legs that bear up the -ordinary rabbit-hound. With winged legs, protecting color, a clear map -of the country in his head,--its stumps, railpiles, cat-brier tangles, -and narrow rabbit-roads,--with all this as a handicap, Bunny may well -run his usual cool and winning race. The balance is just as even, the -chances quite as good, and the contest every bit as interesting to him -as to Reynard. - -I have seen a rabbit squat close in his form and let a hound pass -yelping within a few feet of him, but waiting on his toes as ready as -a hair-trigger should he be discovered. - -I have seen him leap for his life as the dog sighted him, and, -bounding like a ball across the stubble, disappear in the woods, the -hound within two jumps of his flashing tail. I have waited at the end -of the wood-road for the runners to come back, down the home-stretch, -for the finish. On they go through the woods, for a quarter, or -perhaps a half a mile, the baying of the hound faint and intermittent -in the distance, then quite lost. No, there it is again, louder now. -They have turned the course. - -I wait. - -The quiet life of the woods is undisturbed; for the voice of the hound -is only an echo, not unlike the far-off tolling of a slow-swinging -bell. The leaves stir as a wood mouse scurries from his stump; an -acorn rattles down; then in the winding wood-road I hear the _pit-pat, -pit-pat_, of soft furry feet, and there at the bend is the rabbit. He -stops, rises high up on his haunches, and listens. He drops again upon -all fours, scratches himself behind the ear, reaches over the cart-rut -for a nip of sassafras, hops a little nearer, and throws his big ears -forward in quick alarm, for he sees me, and, as if something had -exploded under him, he kicks into the air and is off,--leaving a -pretty tangle for the dog to unravel, later on, by this mighty jump to -the side. - -My children and a woodchopper were witnesses recently of an exciting, -and, for this section of Massachusetts, a novel race, which, but for -them, must certainly have ended fatally. The boys were coming through -the wood-lot where the man was chopping, when down the hillside toward -them rushed a little chipmunk, his teeth a-chatter with terror; for -close behind him, with the easy, wavy motion of a shadow, glided a -dark-brown animal, which the man took on the instant for a mink, but -which must have been a large weasel or a pine marten. When almost at -the feet of the boys, and about to be seized by the marten, the -squeaking chipmunk ran up a tree. Up glided the marten, up for twenty -feet, when the chipmunk jumped. It was a fearfully close call. - -The marten did not dare to jump, but turned and started down, when the -man intercepted him with a stick. Around and around the tree he -dodged, growling and snarling and avoiding the stick, not a bit -abashed, stubbornly holding his own, until forced to seek refuge among -the branches. Meanwhile, the terrified chipmunk had recovered his -nerve and sat quietly watching the sudden turn of affairs from a -near-by stump. - -I frequently climb into the cupola of the barn during the winter, and -bring down a dazed junco that would beat his life out up there against -the window-panes. He will lie on his back in my open hand, either -feigning death or really powerless with fear. His eyes will close, his -whole tiny body throb convulsively with his throbbing heart. Taking -him to the door, I will turn him over and give him a gentle toss. -Instantly his wings flash; they take him zigzag for a yard or two, -then bear him swiftly round the corner of the house and drop him in -the midst of his fellows, where they are feeding upon the lawn. He -will shape himself up a little and fall to picking with the others. - -From a state of collapse the laws of his being bring the bird into -normal behavior as quickly and completely as the collapsed rubber ball -is rounded by the laws of its being. The memory of the fright seems to -be an impression exactly like the dent in the rubber ball--as if it -had never been. - -Memories, of course, the animals surely have; but little or no power -to use them. The dog will sometimes seem to cherish a grudge; so will -the elephant. Some one injures or wrongs him, and the huge beast -harbors the memory, broods it, and awaits his opportunity for revenge. -Yet the records of these cases usually show that the creature had been -living with the object of his hatred--his keeper, perhaps--and that -the memory goes no farther back than the present moment, than the -sight of the hated one. - -At my railroad station I frequently see a yoke of great sleepy, -bald-faced oxen, that look as much alike as two blackbirds. Their -driver knows them apart; but as they stand there, bound to one another -by the heavy bar across their foreheads, it would puzzle anybody else -to tell Buck from Berry. But not if he approach them wearing an -overcoat. At sight of me in an overcoat the off ox will snort and back -and thrash about in terror, twisting the head of his yoke-fellow, -nearly breaking his neck, and trampling him miserably. But the nigh ox -is used to it. He chews and blinks away placidly, keeps his feet the -best he can, and doesn't try to understand at all why greatcoats -should so frighten his cud-chewing brother. I will drop off my coat -and go up immediately to smooth the muzzles of both oxen, now blinking -sleepily while the lumber is being loaded on. - -Years ago, the driver told me, the off ox was badly frightened by a -big woolly coat, the sight or smell of which probably suggested to the -creature some natural enemy, a panther, perhaps, or a bear. The memory -remained, but beyond recall except in the presence of its first cause, -the greatcoat. - -To us there are such things as terror and death, but not to the lower -animals except momentarily. We are clutched by terror even as the -junco was clutched in my goblin hand. When the mighty fingers open, we -zigzag, dazed, from the danger; but fall to planning before the -tremors of the fright have ceased. Upon the crumbled, smoking heap of -San Francisco a second splendid city has arisen and shall ever rise. -Terror can kill the living, but it cannot hinder them from forgetting, -or prevent them from hoping, or, for more than an instant, stop them -from doing. Such is the law of life--the law of heaven, of my -pastures, of the little junco, of myself. Life, Law, and Matter are -all of one piece. The horse in my stable, the robin, the toad, the -beetle, the vine in my garden, the garden itself, and I together with -them all, come out of the same divine dust; we all breathe the same -divine breath; we have our beings under the same divine laws; only -they do not know that the law, the breath, and the dust are divine. -If, with all that I know of fear, I can so readily forget it, and can -so constantly feel the hope and the joy of life within me, how soon -for them, my lowly fellow mortals, must vanish all sight of fear, all -memory of pain! And how abiding with them, how compelling, the -necessity to live! And in their unquestioning obedience, what joy! - -The face of the fields is as changeful as the face of a child. Every -passing wind, every shifting cloud, every calling bird, every baying -hound, every shape, shadow, fragrance, sound, and tremor, are -reflected there. But if time and experience and pain come, they pass -utterly away; for the face of the fields does not grow old or wise or -seamed with pain. It is always the face of a child,--asleep in -winter, awake in spring and summer,--a face of life and health always, -as much in the falling leaf as in the opening bud, as much under the -covers of the snow as in the greensward of the spring, as much in the -wild, fierce joy of fox and hound as they course the turning, tangling -paths of the woodlands in their fateful race as in the song of brook -and bird on a joyous April morning. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE BUZZARD OF THE BEAR SWAMP - - -No, I do not believe that any one of you ever went into a swamp to -find a turkey buzzard's nest. Still, if you had been born on the edge -of a great swamp, as I was, and if the great-winged buzzards had been -soaring, soaring up in your sky, as all through my boyhood they were -soaring up in mine, then why should you not have gone some time into -the swamp to see where they make their nests--these strange -cloud-winged creatures? - -Boys are boys, and girls are girls, the world over; and I am pretty -sure that little Jack Horner and myself were not the only two boys in -all the world to do great and wonderful deeds. Any boy with a love for -birds and a longing for the deep woods, living close to the edge of -the Bear Swamp, would have searched out that buzzard's nest. - -Although I was born within the shadows of the Bear Swamp, close enough -to smell the magnolias along its margin, and lived my first ten years -only a little farther off, yet it was not until after twice ten years -of absence that I stood again within sight of it, ready for the first -time to cross its dark borders and find the buzzard's nest. - -Now here at last I found myself, looking down over the largest, least -trod, deepest-tangled swamp in southern New Jersey--wide, gloomy, -silent, and to me,--for I still thought of it as I used to when a -child,--to me, a mysterious realm of black streams, hollow trees, -animal trails, and haunting shapes, presided over by this great bird, -the turkey buzzard. - -For he was never mere bird to me, but some kind of spirit. He stood to -me for what was far off, mysterious, secret, and unapproachable in the -deep, dark swamp; and, in the sky, so wide were his wings, so majestic -the sweep of his flight, he had always stirred me, caused me to hold -my breath and wish myself to fly. - -No other bird did I so much miss from my New England skies when I came -here to live. Only the other day, standing in the heart of Boston, I -glanced up and saw, sailing at a far height against the billowy -clouds, an aeroplane; and what should I think of but the flight of the -vulture, so like the steady wings of the great bird seemed the steady -wings of this great monoplane far off against the sky. - -And so you begin to understand why I had come back after so many years -to the swamp, and why I wanted to see the nest of this strange bird -that had been flying, flying forever in my imagination and in my sky. -But my good uncle, whom I was visiting, when I mentioned my quest, -merely exclaimed, "What in thunderation!" - -You will find a good many uncles and other folk who won't understand a -good many things that you want to do. Never mind. If you want to see a -buzzard's nest, let all your relations exclaim while you go quietly -off alone and see it. - -I wanted to find a buzzard's nest--the nest of the Bear Swamp buzzard; -and here at last I stood; and yonder on the clouds, a mere mote in the -distance, floated the bird. It was coming toward me over the wide -reach of the swamp. - -Silent, inscrutable, and alien lay the swamp, and untouched by human -hands. Over it spread a quiet and reserve as real as twilight. Like a -mask it was worn, and was slipped on, I know, at my approach. I could -feel the silent spirit of the place drawing back away from me. But I -should have at least a guide to lead me through the shadow land, for -out of the lower living green towered a line of limbless stubs, like a -line of telegraph-poles, their bleached bones gleaming white, or -showing dark and gaunt against the horizon, and marking for me a path -far out across the swamp. Besides, here came the buzzard winding -slowly down the clouds. Soon its spiral changed to a long -pendulum-swing, till just above the skeleton trees the great bird -wheeled and, bracing itself with its flapping wings, dropped heavily -upon one of the headless tree-trunks. - -It had come leisurely, yet I could see that it had come with a -directness and purpose that was unmistakable and also meaningful. It -had discovered me in the distance, and, while still invisible to my -eyes, had started down to perch upon that giant stub in order to watch -me. It was suspicious, and had come to watch me, because somewhere -beneath its perch, I felt sure, lay a hollow log, the creature's den, -holding its two eggs or its young. A buzzard has something like a -soul. - -Marking the direction of the stub, and its probable distance, I waded -into the deep underbrush, the buzzard perched against the sky for my -guide, and, for my quest, the stump or hollow log that held the -creature's nest. - -The rank ferns and ropy vines swallowed me up, and shut out at times -even the sight of the sky and the buzzard. It was not until half an -hour's struggle that, climbing a pine-crested swell in the low bottom, -I sighted the bird again. It had not moved. - -I was now in the real swamp, the old uncut forest. It was a land of -tree giants: huge tulip poplar and swamp white oak, so old that they -had become solitary, their comrades having fallen one by one; while -some of them, unable to loose their grip upon the soil, which had -widened and tightened through centuries, were still standing, though -long since dead. It was upon one of these that the buzzard sat humped. - -Directly in my path stood an ancient swamp white oak, the greatest -tree, I think, that I have ever seen. It was not the highest, nor the -largest round, perhaps, but in years and looks the greatest. Hoary, -hollow, and broken-limbed, his huge bole seemed encircled with the -centuries. - - "For it had bene an auncient tree, - Sacred with many a mysteree." - -Above him to twice his height loomed a tulip poplar, clean-boled for -thirty feet and in the top all green and gold with blossoms. It was a -resplendent thing beside the oak, yet how unmistakably the gnarled old -monarch wore the crown! His girth more than balanced the poplar's -greater height; and, as for blossoms, he had his tiny-flowered -catkins; but nature knows the beauty of strength and inward majesty, -and has pinned no boutonniere upon the oak. - -My buzzard now was hardly more than half a mile away, and plainly seen -through the rifts in the lofty timbered roof above me. As I was -nearing the top of a large fallen pine that lay in my course, I was -startled by the _burrh! burrh! burrh!_ of three partridges taking wing -just beyond, near the foot of the tree. Their exploding flight seemed -all the more like a real explosion when three little clouds of -dust-smoke rose out of the low, _wet_ bottom of the swamp and drifted -up against the green. - -Then I saw an interesting sight. The pine, in its fall, had snatched -with its wide-reaching, multitudinous roots at the shallow bottom and -torn out a giant fistful of earth, leaving a hole about two feet deep -and more than a dozen feet wide. The sand thus lifted into the air had -gradually washed down into a mound on each side of the butt, where it -lay high and dry above the level of the wet swamp. This the swamp -birds had turned into a great dust-bath. It was in constant use, -evidently. Not a spear of grass had sprouted in it, and all over it -were pits and craters of various sizes, showing that not only the -partridges but also the quail and such small things as the warblers -bathed here,--though I can't recall ever having seen a warbler bathe -in the dust. A dry bath in the swamp was something of a luxury, -evidently. I wonder if the buzzards used it? - -I went forward cautiously now, and expectantly, for I was close enough -to see the white beak and red wattled neck of my buzzard guide. The -buzzard saw me, too, and began to twist its head and to twitch its -wing-tips nervously. Then the long, black wings began to open, as you -would open a two-foot rule, and, with a heavy lurch that left the dead -stub rocking, the bird dropped and was soon soaring high up in the -blue. - -This was the locality of the nest; now where should I find it? -Evidently I was to have no further help from the old bird. The -underbrush was so thick that I could hardly see farther than my nose. -A half-rotten tree-trunk lay near, the top end resting across the -backs of several saplings that it had borne down in its fall. I crept -up on this for a look around, and almost tumbled off at finding myself -staring directly into the dark, cavernous hollow of an immense log -lying on a slight rise of ground a few feet ahead of me. - -It was a yawning hole, which at a glance I knew belonged to the -buzzard. The log, a mere shell of a mighty white oak, had been girdled -and felled with an axe, by coon-hunters probably, and still lay with -one side resting upon the rim of the stump. As I stood looking, -something white stirred vaguely in the hole and disappeared. - -Leaping from my perch, I scrambled forward to the mouth of the hollow -log and was greeted with hisses from far back in the dark. Then came a -thumping of bare feet, more hisses, and a sound of snapping beaks. I -had found my buzzard's nest! - -[Illustration: YOUNG TURKEY BUZZARD] - -Hardly that, either, for there was not a feather, stick, or chip as -evidence of a nest. The eggs had been laid upon the sloping cavern -floor, and in the course of their incubation must have rolled clear -down to the opposite end, where the opening was so narrow that the -buzzard could not have brooded them until she had rolled them back. -The wonder is that they had ever hatched. - -But they had, and what they hatched was another wonder. Nature never -intended a young buzzard for any eye but his mother's, and _she_ hates -the sight of him. Elsewhere I have told of a buzzard that devoured her -eggs at the approach of an enemy, so delicately balanced are her -unnamable appetites and her maternal affections! - -The two strange nestlings in the log must have been three weeks old, I -should say, the larger weighing about four pounds. They were covered, -as young owls are, with deep snow-white down, out of which protruded -their black scaly, snaky legs. They stood braced on these long black -legs, their receding heads drawn back, shoulders thrust forward, and -bodies humped between the featherless wings like challenging tom-cats. - -In order to examine them, I crawled into the den--not a difficult act, -for the opening measured four feet and a half across at the mouth. The -air was musty inside, yet surprisingly free from odor. The floor was -absolutely clean, but on the top and sides of the cavity was a thick -coating of live mosquitoes, most of them gorged, hanging like a -red-beaded tapestry over the walls. - -I had taken pains that the flying buzzard should not see me enter, for -I hoped she would descend to look after her young. But she would take -no chances with herself. I sat near the mouth of the hollow, where I -could catch the fresh breeze that pulled across the end, and where I -had a view of a far-away bit of sky. Suddenly, across this field of -blue, there swept a meteor of black--the buzzard! and evidently in -that instant of passage, at a distance certainly of half a mile, she -spied me in the log. - -I waited more than an hour longer, and when I tumbled out with a dozen -kinds of cramps, the unworried mother was soaring serenely far up in -the clear, cool sky. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS SPRING - - -I - -The frogs! You can have no spring until you hear the frogs. The first -shrill notes, heard before the ice is fairly out of the marshes, will -be the waking call of the hylas, the tiny tree-frogs that later on in -the summer you will find in the woods. Then, as the spring advances -and this silvery sleigh-bell jingle tinkles faster, other voices will -join in--the soft croak of the spotted leopard frogs, the still softer -melancholy quaver of the common toad, and away down at the end of the -scale the deep, solemn bass of the great bullfrog saying, "Go round! -Better go round!" - - -II - -You must hear, besides the first spring notes of the bluebird and the -robin, four bird songs this spring. First (1) the song of the wood -thrush or the hermit thrush, whichever one lives in your neighborhood. -No words can describe the purity, the peacefulness, the spiritual -quality of the wood thrush's simple "Come to me." It is the voice of -the tender twilight, the voice of the tranquil forest, speaking to -you. After the thrush (2) the brown thrasher, our finest, most gifted -songster, as great a singer, I think (and I have often heard them -both), as the Southern mockingbird. Then (3) the operatic catbird. She -sits lower down among the bushes than the brown thrasher, as if she -knew that, compared with him, she must take a back seat; but for -variety of notes and length of song, she has few rivals. I say _she_, -when really I ought to say _he_, for it is the males of most birds -that sing, but the catbird seems so long and slender, so dainty and -feminine, that I think of this singer as of some exquisite operatic -singer in a woman's role. Then (4) the bobolink; for his song is just -like Bryant's bubbling poem, only better! Go to the meadows in June -and listen as he comes lilting and singing over your head. - - -III - -There are some birds that cannot sing: the belted kingfisher, for -instance; he can only rattle. You must hear him rattle. You can do as -well yourself if you will shake a "pair of bones" or heave an anchor -and let the chain run fast through the hawse-hole. You then must hear -the downy woodpecker doing his rattling _rat-ta-tat-tat-tat-tat_ -(across the page and back again), as fast as _rat-ta-tat_ can _tat_. -How he makes the old dead limb or fence-post rattle as he drums upon -it with his chisel bill. He can be heard half a mile around. - -Then high-hole, the flicker (or golden-winged woodpecker), you must -hear him yell, _Up-up-up-up-up up-up-up-up-up-up_,--a ringing, -rolling, rapid kind of yodel that echoes over the spring fields. - - -IV - -You must hear the nighthawk and the whip-poor-will. Both birds are to -be heard at twilight, and the whip-poor-will far into the night. At -the very break of dawn is also a good time to listen to them. - -At dusk you will see (I have seen him from the city roofs in Boston) a -bird about the size of a pigeon mounting up into the sky by short -flights, crying _peent_, until far over your head the creature will -suddenly turn and on half-closed wings dive headlong toward the -earth, when, just before hitting the ground, upward he swoops, at the -same instant making a weird booming sound, a kind of hollow groan with -his wings, as the wind rushes through their large feathers. This diver -through the dim ocean of air is the nighthawk. Let one of the birds -dive close to your head on a lonely dusky road, and your hair will try -to jump out from under your hat. - -The whip-poor-will's cry you all know. When you hear one this spring, -go out into the twilight and watch for him. See him spring into the -air, like a strange shadow, for flies; count his _whip-poor-wills_ (he -may call it more than a hundred times in as many seconds!). But hear a -circle of the birds, if possible, calling through the darkness of a -wood all around you! - - -V - -There is one strange bird song that is half song and half dance that -perhaps most of you may never be able to hear and see; but as it is -worth going miles to hear, and nights of watching to witness, I am -going to set it here as one of your outdoor tasks or feats: you must -hear the mating song of the woodcock. I have described the song and -the dance in "Roof and Meadow," in the chapter called "One Flew East -and One Flew West." Mr. Bradford Torrey has an account of it in his -"Clerk of the Woods," in the chapter named "Woodcock Vespers." To hear -the song is a rare experience for the habitual watcher in the woods, -but one that you might have the first April evening that you are -abroad. - -Go down to your nearest meadow--a meadow near a swampy piece of woods -is best--and here, along the bank of the meadow stream, wait in the -chilly twilight for the _speank_, _speank_, or the _peent_, _peent_, -from the grass--the signal that the song is about to begin. - - -VI - -One of the dreadful--positively dreadful--sounds of the late spring -that I hear day in and day out is the gobbling, strangling, ghastly -cries of young crows feeding. You will surely think something is being -murdered. The crying of a hungry baby is musical in comparison. But it -is a good sound to hear, for it reminds one of the babes in the -woods--that a new generation of birds is being brought through from -babyhood to gladden the world. It is a tender sound! The year is still -young. - - -VII - -You should hear the hum of the honey-bees on a fresh May day in an -apple tree that is just coming into perfect bloom. The enchanting -loveless of the pink and white world of blossoms is enough to make one -forget to listen to the _hum-hum-hum-humming-ing-ing-ing-ing_ of the -excited bees. But hear their myriad wings, fanning the perfume into -the air and filling the sunshine with the music of work. The whir, the -hum of labor--of a busy factory, of a great steamship dock--is always -music to those who know the blessedness of work; but it takes that -knowledge, and a good deal of imagination besides, to hear the music -in it. Not so with the bees. The season, the day, the colors, and -perfumes--they are the song; the wings are only the million-stringed -aeolian upon which the song is played. - - -VIII - -You should hear the grass grow. What! I repeat, you should hear the -grass grow. I have a friend, a sound and sensible man, but a lover of -the out-of-doors, who says he can hear it grow. But perhaps it is the -soft stir of the working earthworms that he hears. Try it. Go out -alone one of these April nights; select a green pasture with a slope -to the south, at least a mile from any house, or railroad; lay your -ear flat upon the grass, listen without a move for ten minutes. You -hear something--or do you feel it? Is it the reaching up of the grass? -is it the stir of the earthworms? is it the pulse of the throbbing -universe? or is it your own throbbing pulse? It is all of these, I -think; call it the heart of the grass beating in every tiny living -blade, if you wish to. You should listen to hear the grass grow. - - -IX - -The fires have gone out on the open hearth. Listen early in the -morning and toward evening for the rumbling, the small, muffled -thunder, of the chimney swallows, as they come down from the open sky -on their wonderful wings. Don't be frightened. It isn't Santa Claus -this time of year; nor is it the Old Nick! The smothered thunder is -caused by the rapid beating of the swallows' wings on the air in the -narrow chimney-flue, as the birds settle down from the top of the -chimney and hover over their nests. Stick your head into the fireplace -and look up! Don't smoke the precious lodgers out, no matter how much -racket they make. - - -X - -Hurry out while the last drops of your first May thunder-shower are -still falling and listen to the robins singing from the tops of the -trees. Their liquid songs are as fresh as the shower, as if the -raindrops in falling were running down from the trees in song--as -indeed they are in the overflowing trout-brook. Go out and listen, and -write a better poem than this one that I wrote the other afternoon -when listening to the birds in our first spring shower:-- - - The warm rain drops aslant the sun - And in the rain the robins sing; - Across the creek in twos and troops, - The hawking swifts and swallows wing. - - The air is sweet with apple bloom, - And sweet the laid dust down the lane, - The meadow's marge of calamus, - And sweet the robins in the rain. - - O greening time of bloom and song! - O fragrant days of tender pain! - The wet, the warm, the sweet young days - With robins singing in the rain. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -TURTLE EGGS FOR AGASSIZ - - -I took down, recently, from the shelves of a great public library, the -four volumes of Agassiz's "Contributions to the Natural History of the -United States." I doubt if anybody but the charwoman, with her duster, -had touched those volumes for twenty-five years. They are a monumental -work, the fruit of vast and heroic labors, with colored plates on -stone, showing the turtles of the United States, and their -life-history. The work was published more than half a century ago, but -it looked old beyond its years--massive, heavy, weathered, as if dug -from the rocks; and I soon turned with a sigh from the weary learning -of its plates and diagrams to look at the preface. - -Then, reading down through the catalogue of human names and of thanks -for help received, I came to a sentence beginning:-- - -"In New England I have myself collected largely; but I have also -received valuable contributions from the late Rev. Zadoc Thompson of -Burlington; ... from Mr. D. Henry Thoreau of Concord; ... and from Mr. -J. W. P. Jenks of Middleboro." And then it hastens on with the thanks -in order to get to the turtles, as if turtles were the one and only -thing of real importance in all the world. - -Turtles are important--interesting; so is the late Rev. Zadoc Thompson -of Burlington. Indeed any reverend gentleman who would catch turtles -for Agassiz must have been interesting. If Agassiz had only put a -chapter into his turtle book about him! and as for the Mr. Jenks of -Middleboro (at the end of the quotation) I know that he was -interesting; for years later, he was an old college professor of mine. -He told me some of the particulars of his turtle contributions, -particulars which Agassiz should have found a place for in his big -book. The preface says merely that this gentleman sent turtles to -Cambridge by the thousands--brief and scanty recognition. For that is -not the only thing this gentleman did. On one occasion he sent, not -turtles, but turtle _eggs_ to Cambridge--_brought_ them, I should say; -and all there is to show for it, so far as I could discover, is a -small drawing of a bit of one of the eggs! - -Of course, Agassiz wanted to make that drawing, and had to have a -_fresh_ turtle egg to draw it from. He had to have it, and he got it. -A great man, when he wants a certain turtle egg, at a certain time, -always gets it, for he gets some one else to get it for him. I am glad -he got it. But what makes me sad and impatient is that he did not -think it worth while to tell us about the getting of it. - -It would seem, naturally, that there could be nothing unusual or -interesting about the getting of turtle eggs when you want them. -Nothing at all, if you should chance to want the eggs as you chance to -find them. So with anything else. But if you want turtle eggs _when_ -you want them, and are bound to have them, then you must--get Mr. -Jenks, or somebody else to get them for you. - -Agassiz wanted those turtle eggs when he wanted them--not a minute -over three hours from the minute they were laid. Yet even that does -not seem exacting, hardly more difficult than the getting of hens' -eggs only three hours old. Just so, provided the professor could have -had his private turtle-coop in Harvard College Yard; and provided he -could have made his turtles lay. But turtles will not respond, like -hens, to meat-scraps and the warm mash. The professor's problem was -not to get from a mud turtle's nest in the back yard to his work-table -in the laboratory; but to get from the laboratory in Cambridge to some -pond when the turtles were laying, and back to the laboratory within -the limited time. And this might have called for nice and -discriminating work--as it did. - -Agassiz had been engaged for a long time upon his "Contributions." He -had brought the great work nearly to a finish. It was, indeed, -finished but for one small yet very important bit of observation: he -had carried the turtle egg through every stage of its development with -the single exception of one--the very earliest. That beginning stage -had brought the "Contributions" to a halt. To get eggs that were fresh -enough to show the incubation at this period had been impossible. - -There were several ways that Agassiz might have proceeded: he might -have got a leave of absence for the spring term, taken his laboratory -to some pond inhabited by turtles, and there camped until he should -catch the reptile digging out her nest. But there were difficulties in -all of that--as those who are college professors and naturalists know. -As this was quite out of the question, he did the easiest thing--asked -Mr. Jenks of Middleboro to get him the eggs. Mr. Jenks got them. -Agassiz knew all about his getting of them; and I say the strange and -irritating thing is, that Agassiz did not think it worth while to tell -us about it, at least in the preface to his monumental work. - -It was many years later that Mr. Jenks, then a gray-haired college -professor, told me how he got those eggs to Agassiz. - -"I was principal of an academy, during my younger years," he began, -"and was busy one day with my classes, when a large man suddenly -filled the doorway of the room, smiled to the four corners of the -room, and called out with a big, quick voice that he was Professor -Agassiz. - -"Of course he was. I knew it, even before he had had time to shout it -to me across the room. - -"Would I get him some turtle eggs? he called. Yes, I would. And would -I get them to Cambridge within three hours from the time they were -laid? Yes, I would. And I did. And it was worth the doing. But I did -it only once. - -"When I promised Agassiz those eggs, I knew where I was going to get -them. I had got turtle eggs there before--at a particular patch of -sandy shore along a pond, a few miles distant from the academy. - -"Three hours was the limit. From the railroad station to Boston was -thirty-five miles; from the pond to the station was perhaps three or -four miles; from Boston to Cambridge we called about three miles. -Forty miles in round numbers! We figured it all out before he -returned, and got the trip down to two hours,--record time:--driving -from the pond to the station; from the station by express train to -Boston; from Boston by cab to Cambridge. This left an easy hour for -accidents and delays. - -"Cab and car and carriage we reckoned into our time-table; but what we -didn't figure on was the turtle." And he paused abruptly. - -"Young man," he went on, his shaggy brows and spectacles hardly hiding -the twinkle in the eyes that were bent severely upon me, "young man, -when _you_ go after turtle eggs, take into account the turtle. No! No! -that's bad advice. Youth never reckons on the turtle--and youth seldom -ought to. Only old age does that; and old age would never have got -those turtle eggs to Agassiz. - -"It was in the early spring that Agassiz came to the academy, long -before there was any likelihood of the turtles' laying. But I was -eager for the quest, and so fearful of failure that I started out to -watch at the pond, fully two weeks ahead of the time that the turtles -might be expected to lay. I remember the date clearly: it was May -14th. - -"A little before dawn--along near three o'clock--I would drive over to -the pond, hitch my horse near by, settle myself quietly among some -thick cedars close to the sandy shore, and there I would wait, my -kettle of sand ready, my eye covering the whole sleeping pond. Here -among the cedars I would eat my breakfast, and then get back in good -season to open the academy for the morning session. - -"And so the watch began. - -"I soon came to know individually the dozen or more turtles that kept -to my side of the pond. Shortly after the cold mist would lift and -melt away, they would stick up their heads through the quiet water; -and as the sun slanted down over the ragged rim of tree-tops, the slow -things would float into the warm lighted spots, or crawl out and doze -comfortably on the hummocks and snags. - -"What fragrant mornings those were! How fresh and new and unbreathed! -The pond odors, the woods odors, the odors of the ploughed fields--of -water-lily, and wild grape, and the dew-laid soil! I can taste them -yet, and hear them yet--the still, large sounds of the waking day--the -pickerel breaking the quiet with his swirl; the kingfisher dropping -anchor; the stir of feet and wings among the trees. And then the -thought of the great book being held up for me! Those were rare -mornings! - -"But there began to be a good many of them, for the turtles showed no -desire to lay. They sprawled in the sun, and never one came out upon -the sand as if she intended to help on the great professor's book. The -story of her eggs was of small concern to her; her contribution to the -Natural History of the United States could wait. - -"And it did wait. I began my watch on the 14th of May; June 1st found -me still among the cedars, still waiting, as I had waited every -morning, Sundays and rainy days alike. June 1st was a perfect morning, -but every turtle slid out upon her log, as if egg-laying might be a -matter strictly of next year. - -"I began to grow uneasy,--not impatient yet, for a naturalist learns -his lesson of patience early, and for all his years; but I began to -fear lest, by some subtile sense, my presence might somehow be known -to the creatures; that they might have gone to some other place to -lay, while I was away at the schoolroom. - -"I watched on to the end of the first week, on to the end of the -second week in June, seeing the mists rise and vanish every morning, -and along with them vanish, more and more, the poetry of my early -morning vigil. Poetry and rheumatism cannot long dwell together in the -same clump of cedars, and I had begun to feel the rheumatism. A month -of morning mists wrapping me around had at last soaked through to my -bones. But Agassiz was waiting, and the world was waiting, for those -turtle eggs and I would wait. It was all I could do, for there is no -use bringing a china nest-egg to a turtle; she is not open to any such -delicate suggestion. - -"Then came a mid-June Sunday morning, with dawn breaking a little -after three: a warm, wide-awake dawn, with the level mist lifted from -the level surface of the pond a full hour higher than I had seen it -any morning before. - -"This was the day. I knew it. I have heard persons say that they can -hear the grass grow; that they know by some extra sense when danger is -nigh. For a month I had been watching, had been brooding over this -pond, and now I knew. I felt a stirring of the pulse of things that -the cold-hearted turtles could no more escape than could the clods and -I. - -"Leaving my horse unhitched, as if he, too, understood, I slipped -eagerly into my covert for a look at the pond. As I did so, a large -pickerel ploughed a furrow out through the spatter-docks, and in his -wake rose the head of a large painted turtle. Swinging slowly round, -the creature headed straight for the shore, and, without a pause, -scrambled out on the sand. - -"She was nothing unusual for a turtle, but her manner was unusual and -the gait at which she moved; for there was method in it and fixed -purpose. On she came, shuffling over the sand toward the higher open -fields, with a hurried, determined see-saw that was taking her -somewhere in particular, and that was bound to get her there on time. - -"I held my breath. Had she been a dinosaurian making Mesozoic -footprints, I could not have been more fearful. For footprints in the -Mesozoic mud, or in the sands of time, were as nothing to me when -compared with fresh turtle eggs in the sands of this pond. - -"But over the strip of sand, without a stop, she paddled, and up a -narrow cow-path into the high grass along a fence. Then up the narrow -cow-path, on all fours, just like another turtle, I paddled, and into -the high wet grass along the fence. - -"I kept well within sound of her, for she moved recklessly, leaving a -wide trail of flattened grass behind. I wanted to stand up,--and I -don't believe I could have turned her back with a rail,--but I was -afraid if she saw me that she might return indefinitely to the pond; -so on I went, flat to the ground, squeezing through the lower rails of -the fence, as if the field beyond were a melon-patch. It was nothing -of the kind, only a wild, uncomfortable pasture, full of dewberry -vines, and very discouraging. They were excessively wet vines and -briery. I pulled my coat-sleeves as far over my fists as I could get -them, and with the tin pail of sand swinging from between my teeth to -avoid noise, I stumped fiercely, but silently, on after the turtle. - -[Illustration: "TAIL FIRST, BEGAN TO BURY HERSELF"] - -"She was laying her course, I thought, straight down the length of -this dreadful pasture, when, not far from the fence, she suddenly hove -to, warped herself short about, and came back, barely clearing me. I -warped about, too, and in her wake bore down across the corner of the -pasture, across the powdery public road, and on to a fence along a -field of young corn. - -"I was somewhat wet by this time, but not so wet as I had been before -wallowing through the deep, dry dust of the road. Hurrying up behind a -large tree by the fence, I peered down the corn-rows and saw the -turtle stop, and begin to paw about in the loose, soft soil. She was -going to lay! - -"I held on to the tree and watched, as she tried this place, and that -place, and the other place. But _the_ place, evidently, was hard to -find. What could a female turtle do with a whole field of possible -nests to choose from? Then at last she found it, and, whirling about, -she backed quickly at it and, tail first, began to bury herself before -my staring eyes. - -"Those were not the supreme moments of my life; perhaps those moments -came later that day; but those certainly were among the slowest, most -dreadfully mixed of moments that I ever experienced. They were hours -long. There she was, her shell just showing, like some old hulk in the -sand alongshore. And how long would she stay there? and how should I -know if she had laid an egg? - -"I could still wait. And so I waited, when, over the freshly awakened -fields, floated four mellow strokes from the distant town clock. - -"Four o'clock! Why there was no train until seven! No train for three -hours! The eggs would spoil! Then with a rush it came over me that -this was Sunday morning, and there was no regular seven o'clock -train,--none till after nine. - -"I think I should have fainted had not the turtle just then begun -crawling off. I was weak and dizzy; but there, there in the sand, were -the eggs! and Agassiz! and the great book! Why, I cleared the -fence--and the forty miles that lay between me and Cambridge--at a -single jump! He should have them, trains or no. Those eggs should go -to Agassiz by seven o'clock, if I had to gallop every mile of the way. -Forty miles! Any horse could cover it in three hours, if he had to; -and, upsetting the astonished turtle, I scooped out her long white -eggs. - -"On a bed of sand in the bottom of the pail I laid them, with what -care my trembling fingers allowed; filled in between them with more -sand; so with layer after layer to the rim; and covering all smoothly -with more sand, I ran back for my horse. - -"That horse knew, as well as I, that the turtles had laid, and that he -was to get those eggs to Agassiz. He turned out of that field into the -road on two wheels, a thing he had not done for twenty years, doubling -me up before the dashboard, the pail of eggs miraculously lodged -between my knees. - -"I let him out. If only he could keep this pace all the way to -Cambridge!--or even halfway there, I would have time to finish the -trip on foot. I shouted him on, holding to the dasher with one hand, -holding the pail of eggs with the other, not daring to get off my -knees, though the bang on them, as we pounded down the wood-road, was -terrific. But nothing must happen to the eggs; they must not be -jarred, or even turned over in the sand before they came to Agassiz. - -"In order to get out on the pike it was necessary to drive back away -from Boston toward the town. We had nearly covered the distance, and -were rounding a turn from the woods into the open fields, when, ahead -of me, at the station it seemed, I heard the quick, sharp whistle of a -locomotive. - -"What did it mean? Then followed the _puff, puff, puff_, of a starting -train. But what train? Which way going? And jumping to my feet for a -longer view, I pulled into a side road that paralleled the track, and -headed hard for the station. - -"We reeled along. The station was still out of sight, but from behind -the bushes that shut it from view, rose the smoke of a moving engine. -It was perhaps a mile away, but we were approaching, head on, and, -topping a little hill, I swept down upon a freight train, the black -smoke pouring from the stack, as the mighty creature pulled itself -together for its swift run down the rails. - -"My horse was on the gallop, following the track, and going straight -toward the coming train. The sight of it almost maddened me--the bare -thought of it, on the road to Boston! On I went; on it came, a half--a -quarter of a mile between us, when suddenly my road shot out along an -unfenced field with only a level stretch of sod between me and the -engine. - -"With a pull that lifted the horse from his feet, I swung him into the -field and sent him straight as an arrow for the track. That train -should carry me and my eggs to Boston! - -"The engineer pulled the whistle. He saw me stand up in the rig, saw -my hat blow off, saw me wave my arms, saw the tin pail swing in my -teeth, and he jerked out a succession of sharp Halts! But it was he -who should halt, not I; and on we went, the horse with a flounder -landing the carriage on top of the track. - -"The train was already grinding to a stop; but before it was near a -standstill, I had backed off the track, jumped out, and, running down -the rails with the astonished engineers gaping at me, had swung aboard -the cab. - -"They offered no resistance; they hadn't had time. Nor did they have -the disposition, for I looked strange, not to say dangerous. Hatless, -dew-soaked, smeared with yellow mud, and holding, as if it were a baby -or a bomb, a little tin pail of sand! - -"'Crazy,' the fireman muttered, looking to the engineer for his cue. - -"I had been crazy, perhaps, but I was not crazy now. - -"'Throw her wide open,' I commanded. 'Wide open! These are fresh -turtle eggs for Professor Agassiz of Cambridge. He must have them -before breakfast.' - -"Then they knew I was crazy, and, evidently thinking it best to humor -me, threw the throttle wide open, and away we went. - -"I kissed my hand to the horse, grazing unconcernedly in the open -field, and gave a smile to my crew. That was all I could give them, -and hold myself and the eggs together. But the smile was enough. And -they smiled through their smut at me, though one of them held fast to -his shovel, while the other kept his hand upon a big ugly wrench. -Neither of them spoke to me, but above the roar of the swaying engine -I caught enough of their broken talk to understand that they were -driving under a full head of steam, with the intention of handing me -over to the Boston police, as perhaps the safest way of disposing of -me. - -"I was only afraid that they would try it at the next station. But -that station whizzed past without a bit of slack, and the next, and -the next; when it came over me that this was the through freight, -which should have passed in the night, and was making up lost time. - -"Only the fear of the shovel and the wrench kept me from shaking hands -with both men at this discovery. But I beamed at them; and they at me. -I was enjoying it. The unwonted jar beneath my feet was wrinkling my -diaphragm with spasms of delight. And the fireman beamed at the -engineer, with a look that said, 'See the lunatic grin; he likes it!' - -"He did like it. How the iron wheels sang to me as they took the -rails! How the rushing wind in my ears sang to me! From my stand on -the fireman's side of the cab I could catch a glimpse of the track -just ahead of the engine, where the ties seemed to leap into the -throat of the mile-devouring monster. The joy of it! of seeing space -swallowed by the mile! - -"I shifted the eggs from hand to hand and thought of my horse, of -Agassiz, of the great book, of my great luck,--luck,--luck,--until the -multitudinous tongues of the thundering train were all chiming 'luck! -luck! luck!' They knew! they understood! This beast of fire and -tireless wheels was doing its best to get the eggs to Agassiz! - -"We swung out past the Blue Hills, and yonder flashed the morning sun -from the towering dome of the State House. I might have leaped from -the cab and run the rest of the way on foot, had I not caught the eye -of the engineer watching me narrowly. I was not in Boston yet, nor in -Cambridge either. I was an escaped lunatic, who had held up a train, -and forced it to carry me from Middleboro to Boston. - -"Perhaps I had overdone the lunacy business. Suppose these two men -should take it into their heads to turn me over to the police, whether -I would or no? I could never explain the case in time to get the eggs -to Agassiz. I looked at my watch. There were still a few minutes left -in which I might explain to these men, who, all at once, had become my -captors. But how explain? Nothing could avail against my actions, my -appearance, and my little pail of sand. - -"I had not thought of my appearance before. Here I was, face and -clothes caked with yellow mud, my hair wild and matted, my hat gone, -and in my full-grown hands a tiny tin pail of sand, as if I had been -digging all night with a tiny tin shovel on the shore! And thus to -appear in the decent streets of Boston of a Sunday morning! - -"I began to _feel_ like a lunatic. The situation was serious, or -might be, and rather desperately funny at its best. I must in some way -have shown my new fears, for both men watched me more sharply. - -"Suddenly, as we were nearing the outer freight-yard, the train slowed -down and came to a stop. I was ready to jump, but still I had no -chance. They had nothing to do, apparently, but to guard me. I looked -at my watch again. What time we had made! It was only six o'clock,--a -whole hour left in which to get to Cambridge! - -"But I didn't like this delay. Five minutes--ten--went by. - -"'Gentlemen,' I began, but was cut short by an express train coming -past. We were moving again, on--into a siding--on to the main -track--on with a bump and a crash and a succession of crashes, running -the length of the train--on, on at a turtle's pace, but on,--when the -fireman, quickly jumping for the bell-rope, left the way to the step -free, and-- - -"I never touched the step, but landed in the soft sand at the side of -the track, and made a line for the freight-yard fence. - -"There was no hue or cry. I glanced over my shoulder to see if they -were after me. Evidently their hands were full, or they didn't know I -had gone. - -"But I had gone; and was ready to drop over the high board-fence, when -it occurred to me that I might drop into a policeman's arms. Hanging -my pail in a splint on top of a post, I peered cautiously over--a -very wise thing to do before you jump a high board-fence. There, -crossing the open square toward the station, was a big, burly fellow -with a club--looking for me! - -"I flattened for a moment, when some one in the freight-yard yelled at -me. I preferred the policeman, and, grabbing my pail, I slid softly -over to the street. The policeman moved on past the corner of the -station out of sight. The square was free, and yonder stood a cab. - -"Time was flying now. Here was the last lap. The cabman saw me coming, -and squared away. I waved a dollar-bill at him, but he only stared the -more. A dollar can cover a good deal, but I was too much for one -dollar. I pulled out another, thrust them both at him, and dodged into -the cab, calling, 'Cambridge!' - -"He would have taken me straight to the police-station, had I not -said, 'Harvard College. Professor Agassiz's house! I've got eggs for -Agassiz,' pushing another dollar up at him through the hole. - -"It was nearly half past six. - -"'Let him go!' I ordered. 'Here's another dollar if you make Agassiz's -house in twenty minutes. Let him out; never mind the police!' - -"He evidently knew the police, or there were none around at that time -on a Sunday morning. We went down the sleeping streets, as I had gone -down the wood-roads from the pond two hours before, but with the -rattle and crash now of a fire brigade. Whirling a corner into -Cambridge Street, we took the bridge at a gallop, the driver shouting -out something in Hibernian to a pair of waving arms and a belt and -brass buttons. - -"Across the bridge with a rattle and jolt that put the eggs in -jeopardy, and on over the cobble-stones, we went. Half standing, to -lessen the jar, I held the pail in one hand and held myself in the -other, not daring to let go even to look at my watch. - -"But I was afraid to look at the watch. I was afraid to see how near -to seven o'clock it might be. The sweat was dropping down my nose, so -close was I running to the limit of my time. - -"Suddenly there was a lurch, and I dived forward, ramming my head into -the front of the cab, coming up with a rebound that landed me across -the small of my back on the seat, and sent half of my pail of eggs -helter-skelter over the floor. - -"We had stopped. Here was Agassiz's house; and without taking time to -pick up the eggs that were scattered, I jumped out with my pail and -pounded at the door. - -"No one was astir in the house. But I would stir some one. And I did. -Right in the midst of the racket the door opened. It was the maid. - -"'Agassiz,' I gasped, 'I want Professor Agassiz, quick!' And I pushed -by her into the hall. - -"'Go 'way, sir. I'll call the police. Professor Agassiz is in bed. Go -'way, sir!' - -"'Call him--Agassiz--instantly, or I'll call him myself.' - -"But I didn't; for just then a door overhead was flung open, a great -white-robed figure appeared on the dim landing above, and a quick loud -voice called excitedly,-- - -"'Let him in! Let him in. I know him. He has my turtle eggs!' - -"And the apparition, slipperless, and clad in anything but an academic -gown, came sailing down the stairs. - -"The maid fled. The great man, his arms extended, laid hold of me with -both hands, and dragging me and my precious pail into his study, with -a swift, clean stroke laid open one of the eggs, as the watch in my -trembling hands ticked its way to seven--as if nothing unusual were -happening to the history of the world." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -AN ACCOUNT WITH NATURE - - -There were chipmunks everywhere. The stone walls squeaked with them. -At every turn, from early spring to early autumn, a chipmunk was -scurrying away from me. Chipmunks were common. They did no particular -harm, no particular good; they did nothing in particular, being only -chipmunks and common, or so I thought, until one morning (it was -June-bug time) when I stopped and watched a chipmunk that sat atop the -stone wall down in the orchard. He was eating, and the shells of his -meal lay in a little pile upon the big flat stone which served as his -table. - -They were acorn-shells, I thought; yet June seemed rather late in the -season for acorns, and, looking closer, I discovered that the pile was -entirely composed of June-bug shells--wings and hollow bodies of the -pestiferous beetles! - -Well, well! I had never seen this before, never even heard of it. -Chipmunk, a _useful_ member of society! actually eating bugs in this -bug-ridden world of mine! This was interesting and important. Why, I -had really never known Chipmunk, after all! - -So I hadn't. He had always been too common. Flying squirrels were -more worth while, because there were none on the farm. Now, however, I -determined to cultivate the acquaintance of Chipmunk, for there might -be other discoveries awaiting me. And there were. - -A narrow strip of grass separated the orchard and my garden-patch. It -was on my way to the garden that I most often stopped to watch this -chipmunk, or rather the pair of them, in the orchard wall. June -advanced, the beetles disappeared, and the two chipmunks in the wall -were now seven, the young ones almost as large as their parents, and -both young and old on the best of terms with me. - -For the first time in four years there were prospects of good -strawberries. Most of my small patch was given over to a new variety, -one that I had originated; and I was waiting with an eagerness which -was almost anxiety for the earliest berries. - -I had put a little stick beside each of the three big berries that -were reddening first (though I could have walked from the house -blindfolded and picked them). I might have had the biggest of the -three on June 7th, but for the sake of the flavor I thought it best to -wait another day. On the 8th I went down to get it. The big berry was -gone, and so was one of the others, while only half of the third was -left on the vine! - -Gardening has its disappointments, its seasons of despair--and wrath, -too. Had a toad showed himself at that moment, he might have fared -badly, for more than likely, I thought, it was he who had stolen my -berries. On the garden wall sat a friendly chipmunk eying me -sympathetically. - -[Illustration: CHIPMUNK EATING JUNE-BUGS] - -A few days later several fine berries were ripe, and I was again on my -way to the garden when I passed the chipmunks in the orchard. A -shining red spot among the vine-covered stones of their wall brought -me to a stop. For an instant I thought that it was my rose-breasted -grosbeak, and that I was about to get a clew to its nest. Then up to -the slab where he ate the June-bugs scrambled the chipmunk, and the -rose-red spot on the breast of the supposed grosbeak dissolved into a -big scarlet-red strawberry. And by its long wedge shape I knew it was -one of my new variety. - -I hurried across to the patch and found every berry gone, while a line -of bloody fragments led me back to the orchard wall, where a -half-dozen fresh calyx crowns completed my second discovery. - -No, it did not complete it. It took a little watching to find out that -the whole family--all seven!--were after those berries. They were -picking them half ripe, even, and actually storing them away, canning -them, down in the cavernous depths of the stone-pile! - -Alarmed? Yes, and I was wrathful, too. The taste for strawberries is -innate, original; you can't be human without it. But joy in chipmunks -is a cultivated liking. What chance in such a circumstance has the -nature-lover with the human man? What shadow of doubt as to his choice -between the chipmunks and the strawberries? - -I had no gun and no time to go over to my neighbor's to borrow his. So -I stationed myself near by with a fistful of stones, and waited for -the thieves to show themselves. I came so near to hitting one of them -with a stone that the sweat started all over me. After that there was -no danger. I had lost my nerve. The little scamps knew that war had -been declared, and they hid and dodged and sighted me so far off that -even with a gun I should have been all summer killing the seven of -them. - -Meantime, a good rain and the warm June days were turning the berries -red by the quart. They had more than caught up to the chipmunks. I -dropped my stones and picked. The chipmunks picked, too; so did the -toads and the robins. Everybody picked. It was free for all. We picked -them and ate them, jammed them, and canned them. I almost carried some -over to my neighbor, but took peas instead. - -The strawberry season closed on the Fourth of July; and our taste was -not dimmed, nor our natural love for strawberries abated; but all four -of the small boys had hives from over-indulgence, so bountifully did -Nature provide, so many did the seven chipmunks leave us! - -Peace between me and the chipmunks had been signed before the -strawberry season closed, and the pact still holds. Other things have -occurred since to threaten it, however. Among them, an article in a -recent number of an out-of-door magazine, of wide circulation. Herein -the chipmunk family was most roundly rated, in fact condemned to -annihilation because of its wicked taste for birds' eggs and for the -young birds. Numerous photographs accompanied the article, showing the -red squirrel with eggs in his mouth, but no such proof (even the red -squirrel photographs, I strongly believe, were done from a _stuffed_ -squirrel) of Chipmunk's guilt, though he was counted equally bad and, -doubtless, will suffer with Chickaree at the hands of those who have -taken the article seriously. - -I believe that would be a great mistake. Indeed, I believe the article -a deliberate falsehood, concocted in order to sell the made-up -photographs. Chipmunk is not an egg-sucker, else I should have found -it out. But of course that does not mean that no one else has found it -out. It does mean, however, that if Chipmunk robs at all he does it so -seldom as to call for no alarm or retribution. - -There is scarcely a day in the nesting-season when I fail to see half -a dozen chipmunks about the walls, yet I have never noticed one even -suspiciously near a bird's nest. In an apple tree, scarcely six jumps -from the home of the family in the orchard wall, a brood of tree -swallows came to wing this spring; while robins, chippies, and -red-eyed vireos--not to mention a cowbird, which I wish they had -devoured--have also hatched and flown away from nests that these -squirrels might easily have rifled. - -It is not often that one comes upon even the red squirrel in the very -act of robbing a nest. But the black snake, the glittering fiend! and -the dear house cats! If I run across a dozen black snakes in the early -summer, it is safe to say that six of them are discovered to me by the -cries of the birds that they are robbing. So is it with the cats. No -creature larger than a June-bug, however, is often distressed by a -chipmunk. In a recent letter to me Mr. Burroughs says:-- - -"No, I never knew the chipmunk to suck or destroy eggs of any kind, -and I have never heard of any well-authenticated instance of his doing -so. The red squirrel is the sinner in this respect, and probably the -gray squirrel also." - -It will be difficult to find a true bill against him. Were the -evidence all in, I believe that instead of a culprit we should find -Chipmunk a useful citizen. Does not that pile of June-bug bodies on -the flat stone leave me still in debt to him? He may err occasionally, -and may, on occasion, make a nuisance of himself--but so do my four -small boys, bless them! And, well,--who doesn't? When a family of -chipmunks, which you have fed all summer on the veranda, take up their -winter quarters inside the closed cabin, and chew up your quilts, -hammocks, table-cloths, and whatever else there is of chewable -properties, then they are anathema. - -The havoc certain chipmunks in the mountains once made among our -possessions was dreadful. But instead of exterminating them root and -branch, a big box was prepared the next summer and lined with tin, in -which the linen was successfully wintered. - -But how real was the loss, after all? Here was a rough log cabin on -the side of Thorn Mountain. What sort of table-cloth ought to be found -in such a cabin, if not one that has been artistically chewed by -chipmunks? Is it for fine linen that we take to the woods in summer? -The chipmunks are well worth a table-cloth now and then--well worth, -besides these, all the strawberries and all the oats they can steal -from my small patch. - -Only it isn't stealing. Since I ceased throwing stones and began to -watch the chipmunks carefully, I do not find that their manner is in -the least the manner of thieves. They do not act as if they were -taking what they have no right to. For who has told Chipmunk to earn -his oats in the sweat of his brow? No one. Instead, he seems to -understand that he is one of the innumerable factors ordained to make -me sweat--a good and wholesome experience for me so long as I get the -necessary oats. - -And I get them, in spite of the chipmunks, though I don't like to -guess at the quantity of oats they have carried off--anywhere, I -should say, from a peck to a bushel, which they have stored as they -tried to store the berries, somewhere in the big recesses of the stone -wall. - -All this, however, is beside the point. It isn't a case of oats and -berries against June-bugs. You don't haggle with Nature after that -fashion. The farm is not a market-place where you get exactly what you -pay for. You must spend on the farm all you have of time and strength -and brains; but you must not expect in return merely your money's -worth. Infinitely more than that, and oftentimes less. Farming is like -virtue,--its own reward. It pays the man who loves it, no matter how -short the crop of oats and corn. - -So it is with Chipmunk. Perhaps his books don't balance--a few -June-bugs short on the credit side. What then? It isn't mere bugs and -berries, as I have just suggested, but stone-piles. What is the -difference in value to me between a stone-pile with a chipmunk in it -and one without. Just the difference, relatively speaking, between the -house with my four boys in it, and the house without. - -Chipmunk, with his sleek, round form, his rich color and his stripes, -is the daintiest, most beautiful of all our squirrels. He is one of -the friendliest of my tenants, too, friendlier even than the -friendliest of my birds--Chickadee. The two are very much alike in -spirit; but however tame and confiding Chickadee may become, he is -still a bird and belongs to a different and, despite his wings, lower -order of beings. Chickadee is often curious about me; he can be coaxed -to eat from my hand. Chipmunk is more than curious; he is interested; -and it is not crumbs that he wants, but friendship. He can be coaxed -to eat from my lips, sleep in my pocket, and even come to be stroked. - -I have sometimes seen Chickadee in winter when he seemed to come to me -out of very need for living companionship. But in the flood-tide of -summer life Chipmunk will watch me from his stone-pile and tag me -along with every show of friendship. - -The family in the orchard wall have grown very familiar. They flatter -me. One or another of them, sitting upon the high flat slab, sees me -coming. He sits on the very edge of the crack, to be truthful; and if -I take a single step aside toward him, he flips, and all there is left -of him is a little angry squeak from the depths of the stones. If, -however, I pass properly along, do not stop or make any sudden motion, -he sees me past, then usually follows me, especially if I get well off -and pause. - -During a shower one day I halted under a large hickory just beyond his -den. He came running after me, so interested that he forgot to look to -his footing, and just opposite me slipped and bumped his nose hard -against a stone--so hard that he sat up immediately and vigorously -rubbed it. Another time he followed me across to the garden and on -until he came to the barbed-wire fence along the meadow. Here he -climbed a post and continued after me by way of the middle strand of -the wire, wriggling, twisting, even grabbing the barbs, in his efforts -to maintain his balance. He got midway between the posts, when the -sagging strand tripped him and he fell with a splash into a shallow -pool below. No, he did not drown, but his curiosity did get a ducking. - -Did the family in the orchard wall stay together as a family for the -first summer? I should like to know. As late as August they all seemed -to be in the wall; for in August I cut my oats, and during this -harvest we all worked together. - -I mowed the oats as soon as they began to yellow, cocking them to cure -for hay. It was necessary to let them "make" for six or seven days, -and all this time the chipmunks raced back and forth between the cocks -and the stone wall. They might have hidden their gleanings in a dozen -crannies nearer at hand; but evidently they had a particular -storehouse, near the home nest, where the family could get at their -provisions in bad weather without coming forth. - -Had I removed the stones and dug out the nest, I should have found a -tunnel leading into the ground for a few feet and opening into a -chamber filled with a bulky grass nest--a bed capable of holding half -a dozen chipmunks--and, adjoining this, by a short passageway, the -storehouse of the oats. - -How many trips they made between this crib and the oat-patch, how -many kernels they carried in their pouches at a trip, and how big a -pile they had when all the grains were in,--these are more of the -things I should like to know. - -When the first frosts come, the family--if they are still a -family--seek the nest in the ground beneath the stone wall. But they -do not go to sleep immediately. Their outer entrances have not yet -been closed. There is still plenty of fresh air and, of course, plenty -of food--acorns, chestnuts, hickory-nuts, and oats. They doze quietly -for a time and then they eat, pushing the empty shells and hulls into -some side passage prepared beforehand to receive the debris. - -But soon the frost is creeping down through the stones and earth -overhead, the rains are filling the outer doorways and shutting off -the supply of fresh air; and one day, though not sound sleepers, the -family cuddle down and forget to wake entirely until the frost has -begun to creep back toward the surface, and in through the softened -soil is felt the thrill of the waking spring. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WOODS MEDICINE - - -The real watcher in the woods usually goes off by himself. He hates to -have anybody along; for Anybody wants to be moving all the time, and -Anybody wants to be talking all the time, and Anybody wants to be -finding a circus, or a zoo, or a natural history museum in the middle -of the woods, else Anybody wishes he had stayed at home or gone to the -ball-game. - -Now I always say to Mr. Anybody when he asks me to take him into the -woods, "Yes, come along, if you can stand stock-still for an hour, -without budging; if you can keep stock-still for an hour, without -talking; if you can get as excited watching two tumble-bugs trying to -roll their ball up hill, as you do watching nine baseball men trying -to bat their ball about a field." - -The doctor pulled a small blankbook out of his vest pocket, scribbled -something in Latin and Chinese (at least it looked like Chinese), and -then at the bottom wrote in English, "Take one teaspoonful every -hour"; and, tearing off the leaf, handed it to the patient. It was a -prescription for some sort of medicine. - -Now I am going to give you a prescription,--for some woods -medicine,--a magic dose that will cure you of blindness and deafness -and clumsy-footedness, that will cause you to see things and hear -things and think things in the woods that you have never thought or -heard or seen in the woods before. Here is the prescription:-- - - WOOD CHUCK, M. D., - - MULLEIN HILL. - - - Office Hours: 5.30 A.M. until Breakfast. - - - Rx: No moving for one hour.... No talking for one hour.... No - dreaming or thumb-twiddling the while.... - - _Sig_: The dose to be taken from the top of a stump with a bit - of sassafras bark or a nip of Indian turnip every time you go - into the woods. - - - WOOD CHUCK. - -I know that this compound will cure if you begin taking it early -enough--along, I should say, from the Fifth to the Eighth Grades. It -is a very difficult dose to take at any age, but it is almost -impossible for grown-ups to swallow it; for they have so many things -to do, or think they have, that they can't sit still a whole hour -anywhere--a terrible waste of time! And then they have been talking -for so many years that to stop for a whole hour might--kill them, who -knows! And they have been working nervously with their hands so long -that their thumbs will twiddle, and to sleep they will go the minute -they sit down, in spite of themselves. It is no use to give this -medicine to grown-ups. They are what Dr. Wood Chuck calls -"chronics"--hopeless hurriers who will never sit down upon a stump, -who, when the Golden Chariot comes for them, will stand up and drive -all the way to heaven. - -However, I am not giving this medicine to grown-ups, but to you. Of -course you will make a bad face over it, too; for, young or old, it is -hard to sit still and even harder to keep still--I mean not to talk. I -have closely watched four small boys these several years now, and I -never knew one of them to sit still for a whole hour _at home_--not -once in his whole life! And as for his tongue! he might tuck that into -his cheek, hold it down between his teeth, crowd it back behind his -fist--no matter. The tongue is an unruly member. But let these four -boys get into the woods, and every small pale-face of them turns -Indian instinctively, tip-toeing up and down the ridges with lips as -close-sealed as if some finger of the forest were laid upon them. So -it must be with you when you enter the fields and woods. - -The wood-born people are all light-footed and cautious in their -stirring. Only the box turtles scuff carelessly along; and that is -because they can shut themselves up--head, paws, tail--inside their -lidded shells, and defy their enemies. - -The skunk, however, is sometimes careless in his going; for he knows -that he will neither be crowded nor jostled along the street, so he -naturally behaves as if all the woods were his. Yet, how often do you -come upon a skunk? Seldom--because, he is quite as unwilling to meet -you as you are to meet him; but as one of your little feet makes as -much noise in the leaves as all four of his, he hears you coming and -turns quietly down some alley or in at some burrow and allows you to -pass on. - -Louder than your step in the woods is the sound of your voice. Perhaps -there is no other noise so far-reaching, so alarming, so silencing in -the woods as the human voice. When your tongue begins, all the other -tongues cease. Songs stop as by the snap of a violin string; -chatterings cease; whisperings end--mute are the woods and empty as a -tomb, except the wind be moving aloft in the trees. - -Three things all the animals can do supremely well: they can hear -well; they can see motion well; they can wait well. - -If you would know how well an animal can wait, scare Dr. Wood Chuck -into his office, then sit down outside and wait for him to come out. -It would be a rare and interesting thing for you to do. No one has -ever done it yet, I believe! Establish a world's record for keeping -still! But you should scare him in at the beginning of your summer -vacation so as to be sure you have all the waiting-time the state -allows: for you may have to leave the hole in September and go back to -school. - -When the doctor wrote the prescription for this medicine, "No moving -for an hour," he was giving you a very small, a homeopathic dose of -patience, as you can see; for _an hour_ at a time, every wood-watcher -knows, will often be only a waste of time, unless followed -immediately by another hour of the same. - -On the road to the village one day, I passed a fox-hunter sitting atop -an old stump. It was about seven o'clock in the morning. - -"Hello, Will!" I called, "been out all night?" - -"No, got here 'bout an hour ago," he replied. - -I drove on and, returning near noon, found Will still atop the stump. - -"Had a shot yet?" I called. - -"No, the dogs brought him down 'tother side the brook, and carried him -over to the Shanty field." - -About four o'clock that afternoon I was hurrying down to the station, -and there was Will atop that same stump. - -"Got him yet?" I called. - -"No, dogs are fetching him over the Quarries now"--and I was out of -hearing. - -It was growing dark when I returned; but there was Will Hall atop the -stump. I drew up in the road. - -"Grown fast to that stump, Will?" I called. "Want me to try to pull -you off?" - -"No, not yet," he replied, jacking himself painfully to his feet. -"Chillin' up some, ain't it?" he added shaking himself. "Might's well -go home, I guess"--when from the direction of Young's Meadows came the -eager voice of his dogs; and, waving me on, he got quickly back atop -the stump, his gun ready across his knees. - -I was nearly home when, through the muffle of the darkening woods, I -heard the quick _bang! bang!_ of Will's gun. - -Yes, he got him, a fine red fox. And speaking to me about it one day, -he said,-- - -"There's a lot more to sittin' still than most folks thinks. The -trouble is, most folks in the woods can't stand the monopoly of it." - -Will's English needs touching up in spots; but he can show the -professors a great many things about the ways of the woods. - -And now what does the doctor mean by "No dreaming or thumb-twiddling" -in the woods? Just this: that not only must you be silent and -motionless for hours at a time, but you must also be alert--watchful, -keen, ready to take a hint, to question, guess, and interpret. The -fields and woods are not full of life, but full only of the sounds, -shadows, and signs of life. - -You are atop of your stump, when over the ridge you hear a slow, quiet -rustle in the dead leaves--a skunk; then a slow, _loud_ rustle--a -turtle; then a _quick_, loud--_one-two-three_--rustle--a chewink; then -a tiny, rapid rustle--a mouse; then a long, rasping rustle--a snake; -then a measured, galloping rustle--a squirrel; then a light-heavy, -hop-thump rustle--a rabbit; then--and not once have you seen the -rustlers in the leaves beyond the ridge; and not once have you stirred -from your stump. - -Perhaps this understanding of the leaf-sounds might be called -"interpretation"; but before you can interpret them, you must hear -them; and no dozing, dreaming, fuddling sitter upon a stump has ears -to hear. - -As you sit there, you notice a blue jay perched silent and unafraid -directly over you--not an ordinary, common way for a blue jay to act. -"Why?" you ask. Why, a nest, of course, somewhere near! Or, suddenly -round and round the trunk of a large oak tree whirls a hummingbird. -"Queer," you say. Then up she goes--and throwing your eye ahead of her -through the tree-tops you chance to intercept her bee-line flight--a -hint! She is probably gathering lichens for a nest which she is -building somewhere near, in the direction of her flight. A whirl! a -flash!--as quick as light! You have a wonderful story! - -Now do not get the impression that all one needs to do in order to -become acquainted with the life of the woods is to sit on a -stump a long time, say nothing, and listen hard. All that is -necessary--rather, the ability to do it is necessary; but in the woods -or out it is also necessary to exercise common sense. Guess, for -instance, when guessing is all that you can do. You will learn more, -however, and learn it faster, generally, by following it up, than by -sitting on a stump and guessing about it. - -At twilight, in the late spring and early summer, we frequently hear -a gentle, tremulous call from the woods or from below in the orchard. -"What is it?" I had been asked a hundred times, and as many times had -guessed that it might be the hen partridge clucking to her brood; or -else I had replied that it made me think of the mate-call of a coon, -or that I half inclined to believe it the cry of the woodchucks, or -that possibly it might be made by the owls. In fact, I didn't know the -peculiar call, and year after year I kept guessing at it. - -We were seated one evening on the porch listening to the -whip-poor-wills, when some one said, "There's your woodchuck -singing again." Sure enough, there sounded the tremulous -woodchuck-partridge-owl-coon cry. I slipped down through the birches -determined at last to know that cry and stop guessing about it, if I -had to follow it all night. - -The moon was high and full, the footing almost noiseless, and -everything so quiet that I quickly located the clucking sounds as -coming from the orchard. I came out of the birches into the wood-road, -and was crossing the open field to the orchard, when something dropped -with a swish and a vicious clacking close upon my head. I jumped from -under my hat, almost,--and saw the screech owl swoop softly up into -the nearest apple tree. Instantly she turned toward me and uttered the -gentle purring cluck that I had been guessing at so hard for at least -three years. And even while I looked at her, I saw in the tree -beyond, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, two round bunches,--young -owls evidently,--which were the explanation of the calls. These two, -and another young one, were found in the orchard the following day. - -I rejoined the guessers on the porch and gave them the satisfying -fact, but only after two or three years of guessing about it. I had -laughed once at some of my friends over on the other road who had -bolted their front door and had gone out of the door at the side of -the house for precisely twenty-one years because the key in the -front-door lock wouldn't work. They were intending to have it fixed, -but the children being little kept them busy; then the children grew -up, and of course kept them busier; got married at last and left -home--all but one daughter. Still the locksmith was not called to fix -that front door. One day this unmarried daughter, in a fit of -impatience, got at that door herself, and found that the key had been -inserted just twenty-one years before--_upside down_! - -There I had sat on the porch--on a stump, let us say, and guessed -about it. Truly, my key to this mystery had been left long in the -lock, upside down, while I had been going in and out by the side door. - -No, you must _go_ into the fields and woods, go deep and far and -frequently, with eyes and ears and all your souls alert! - - - - -NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS - - -CHAPTER I - - -TO THE TEACHER - - Put the question to your scholars individually: Who is _your_ - messenger of spring? Make the reading of this book not an end in - itself, but only a means toward getting the pupils out of doors. - Never let the reading stop with the end of the chapter, any more - than you would let your garden stop with the buying of the - seeds. And how eager and restless a healthy child is for the - fields and woods with the coming of spring! Do not let your - opportunity slip. Go with them after reading this chapter - (re-reading if you can the first chapter in "The Fall of the - Year") out to some meadow stream where they can see the fallen - stalks and brown matted growths of the autumn through which the - new spring shoots are pushing, green with vigor and promise. The - seal of winter has been broken; the pledge of autumn has been - kept; the life of a new summer has started up from the grave of - the summer past. Here by the stream under your feet is the whole - cycle of the seasons--the dead stalks, the empty seed-vessels, - the starting life. - - Let the children watch for the returning birds and report to - you; have them bring in the opening flowers, giving them credit - (on the blackboard) for each _new_ flower found; go with them - (so that they will not _bring_ the eggs to you) to see the new - nests discovered, teaching them by every possible means the - folly and cruelty of robbing birds' nests, of taking life; - while at the same time you show them the beauty of life, its - sacredness, and manifold interests. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 1 - - Have you ever _seen_ a "spring peeper" peeping? You will hear, - these spring nights, many distinct notes in the marshes, and - when you have seen all of the lowly musicians you will be a - fairly accomplished naturalist. Let the discovery of "Who's Who - among the Frogs" this spring be one of your first outdoor - studies. The picture shows you Pickering's hyla, blowing his - bagpipe. _Arbutus_: trailing arbutus (_Epigaea repens_), - sometimes called ground-laurel, and mayflower, fishflower (in - New Jersey). - - _hepatica_: liver-leaf (_Hepatica triloba_). - - _Spice-bush_: wild allspice, fever-bush, Benjamin-bush - (_Benzoin aestivale_). - - _Wood-pussy_: the skunk, who comes out of his winter den very - early in spring, and whose scent is one of the characteristic - odors of a New England spring. - -PAGE 2 - - _All white and still_: The whole poem will be found on the last - page of "Winter," the second book in this series. - - _trillium_: the wake-robin. Read Mr. Burroughs's book - "Wake-Robin,"--the first of his outdoor books. - -PAGE 4 - - _phoebe_: See the chapter called "The Palace in the Pig-Pen." - - _bloodroot_: _Sanguinaria canadensis_. See the picture on this - page. So named because of the red-orange juice in the - root-stalks, used by the Indians as a stain. - - _marsh-marigolds_: The more common but _incorrect_ name is - "cowslip." The marsh-marigold is _Caltha palustris_ and belongs - with the buttercup and wind-flower to the Crowfoot Family. The - cowslip, a species of primrose, is a European plant and belongs - to the Primrose Family. - -PAGE 5 - - _woolly-bear_: caterpillar of the isabella tiger moth, the - common caterpillar, brown in the middle with black ends, whose - hairs look as if they had been clipped, so even are they. - - _mourning-cloak_: See picture, page 77 of "Winter," the second - book of this series. The antiopa butterfly. - - _juncos_: the common slate-colored "snowbirds." - - _witch-hazel_: See picture, page 28 of "The Fall of the Year"; - read description of it on pages 31-33 of the same volume. - - _bluets_: or "innocence" (_Houstonia coerulea_). - -PAGE 6 - - _the Delaware_: the Delaware River, up which they come in order - to lay their eggs. As they come up they are caught in nets and - their eggs or "roe" salted and made into caviar. - - _Cohansey Creek_: a small river in New Jersey. - - _Lupton's Meadows_: local name of meadows along Cohansey Creek. - - -CHAPTER II - - -TO THE TEACHER - - Read Kipling's story in "The Second Jungle Book" called "The - Spring Running." Both Jungle Books ought to be in your school - library. Spring is felt on the ocean as well as over the land; - life is all of one piece; the thrill we feel at the touch of - spring is felt after his manner and degree by bird and beast and - by the fish of the sea. Go back to the last paragraph of chapter - I for the _thought_. Here I have expanded that thought of the - tides of life rising. See the picture of the herring on their - deep sea run on page 345 of the author's "Wild Life Near Home." - Let the chapter suggest to the pupils the mysterious powers of - the minds of the lower animals. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 7 - - _Mowgli_: Do you know Mowgli of "The Jungle Book"? - - _Chaucer_: the "Father of English Poetry." This is one of the - opening lines of the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. - -PAGE 8 - - _migrating birds_: See "The Great Tidal Waves of Bird Life" by - D. Lange, in the "Atlantic Monthly" for August, 1909. - -PAGE 9 - - _The cold-blooded_: said of those animals lower than the mammals - and birds, that have not four-chambered hearts and the complete - double blood-circulation. - - _Weymouth Back River_: of Weymouth, Massachusetts. - -PAGE 10 - - _catfish_: or horn-pout or bull-pout, see picture, page 12. - -PAGE 11 - - _stickleback_: The little male stickleback builds a nest, drives - the female into it to lay her eggs, then takes charge of the - eggs until the fry hatch out and go off for themselves. - - -CHAPTER III - - -TO THE TEACHER - - You will try to get three suggestions out of this chapter for - your pupils: First, that an old tree with holes may prove to be - the most _fruitful_ and interesting tree in the neighborhood, - that is to say, nothing out of doors is so far fallen to pieces, - dead, and worthless as to be passed by in our nature study. - (Read to them "Second Crops" in the author's "A Watcher in the - Woods.") Secondly: the humble tree-toad is well worth the most - careful watching, for no one yet has told us all of his - life-story. Thirdly: one of the benefits of this simple, sincere - love of the out-of-doors will come to us as rest, both in mind - and body, as contentment, too, and clearer understanding of what - things are worth while. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 14 - - _burlap petticoat_: a strip of burlap about six inches wide tied - with a string and folded over about the trunks of the trees - under which the night-feeding gypsy moth caterpillars hide by - day. The burlaps are lifted and the worms killed. - - _a peddler's stall_: In the days of the author's boyhood - peddlers sold almost everything that the country people could - want. - -PAGE 16 - - _grim-beaked baron_: the little owl of the tree. - - _keep_: an older name for castle; sometimes for the dungeon. - -PAGE 20 - - _for him to call the summer rain_: alluding to his evening and - his cloudy-day call as a sign of coming rain. - -PAGE 22 - - _castings_: the disgorged lumps of hair and bones of the small - animals eaten by the owls. - -PAGE 24 - - _Altair and Arcturus_: prominent stars in the northern - hemisphere. - - -CHAPTER IV - - -TO THE TEACHER - - See the suggestions for the corresponding chapter in "The Fall - of the Year," the first volume in this series. Lest you may not - have that book at hand, let me repeat here the gist of what I - said there: that you make this chapter the purpose of one or - more field excursions with the class--in order to see with your - own eyes the characteristic sights of spring as recorded here; - secondly, that you use this, and chapters VI and X, as school - tests of the pupil's knowledge and observation of his own fields - and woods; and thirdly, let the items mentioned here be used as - possible subjects for the pupil's further study as themes for - compositions, or independent investigations out of school hours. - The finest fruit the teacher can show is a school full of - children personally interested in things. And what better things - than live things out of doors? - - -CHAPTER V - - -TO THE TEACHER - - I might have used a star, or the sun, or the sea to teach the - lesson involved here, instead of the crow and his three broken - feathers. But these three feathers will do for your pupils as - the falling apple did for Sir Isaac Newton. The point of the - chapter is: that the feathers like the stars must round out - their courses; that this universe is a universe of law, of - order, and of reason, even to the wing feathers of a crow. Try - to show your pupils the beauty and wonder of order and law (not - easy to do) as well as the beauty and wonder of shapes and - colors and sounds, etc. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 34 - - _primaries, secondaries, tertials_: Turn to your dictionary - under "Bird" (or at the front of some good bird book) and study - out just which feathers of the wing these named here are. - -PAGE 35 - - _half-moulted hen_: Pick her up and notice the regular and - systematic arrangement of the young feathers. Or take a plucked - hen and draw roughly the pin-feather scheme as you find it on - her body. - -PAGE 37 - - _reed-birds_: The bobolink is also called "rice-bird" from its - habit of feeding in the rice-fields of the South on its fall - migration. - - -CHAPTER VI - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Do not stop doing or seeing or hearing when you have done, seen, - and heard the few things suggested in this chapter and in - chapters IV and X; for these are only suggestions, and merely - intended to give you a start, as if your friend had said to you - upon your visiting a new city, "Now, don't fail to see the - Common and the old State House, etc.; and don't fail to go down - to T Wharf, etc.,"--knowing that all the time you would be doing - and seeing and hearing a thousand interesting things. - - -CHAPTER VII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - I called this chapter when I first wrote it "The Friendship of - Nature"--a much used title, but entirely suggestive of the - thought and the lesson in the story here. This was first written - about six years ago, and to-day, May 12, 1912, that pair of - phoebes, or another pair, have their nest out under the - pig-pen roof as they have had every year since I have known the - pen. Repeat and expand the thought as I have put it into the - mouth of Nature in the first paragraph--"We will share them [the - acres] together." Instill into your pupils' minds the large - meaning of obedience to Nature's laws and love for her and all - her own. Show them also how ready Nature is (and all the birds - and animals and flowers) to be friendly; and how even a city - dooryard may hold enough live _wild_ things for a small zoo. - This chapter might well be made use of by the city teacher to - stir her pupils to see what interesting live things their city - or neighborhood has, although the woods and open fields are - miles away. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 48 - - _a hornet's nest_: the white-faced hornet, that builds the great - cone-shaped paper nests. - - _swifts thunder in the chimney_: See chapter VII (and notes) in - "Winter." For the "thunder" see section IX in chapter X of this - book. - -PAGE 49 - - _cabbage butterfly_: a pest; a small whitish butterfly with a - few small black spots. Its grubs eat cabbage. - -PAGE 54 - - _the crested flycatcher_: is the largest of the family; builds - in holes; distinguished by its use of cast-off snake-skins in - its nests. - - _kingbird_: Everybody knows him, for it is usually he who - chases the marauding crows; he builds, out in the apple tree if - he can, a big, bulky nest with strings a-flying from it: also - called "bee-martin," a most useful bird. - - _wood pewee_: builds on the limbs of forest trees a most - beautiful nest, much like a hummingbird's, only larger. Pewee's - soft, pensive call of "pe-e-e-wee" in the deep, quiet, - dark-shrouded summer woods is one of the sweetest of bird - notes. - - _chebec_: a little smaller than a sparrow; builds a beautiful - nest in orchard trees and says "chebec, chebec, chebec." - -PAGE 58 - - _One had died_: After phoebe brings off her first brood - sprinkle a little, tobacco-dust or lice-powder, such as you use - in the hen-yard, into the nest to kill the vermin. Otherwise the - second and third broods may be eaten alive by lice or mites. - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - In "Winter" I put a chapter called "The Missing Tooth," showing - the dark and bitter side of the life of the wild things; here I - have taken that thought as most people think of it (see - Burroughs's essay, "A Life of Fear" in "Riverby") and in the - light of typical examples tried to show that wild life is not - fear, but peace and joy. The kernel of the chapter is found in - the words: "The level of wild life, the soul of all nature, is a - great serenity." Let the pupils watch and report instances of - fear (easy to see) and in the same animals instances of peace - and joy. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 60 - - _gray harrier_: so named because of his habit of flying low and - "harrying," that is, hunting, catching small prey on or near the - ground. "Harry" comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for army. - -PAGE 61 - - "_He looketh as it were a grym leoun_": from Chaucer's - description of the Cock in the story of the Cock and the Fox. - -PAGE 62 - - _terrible pike_: closely related to the pickerel. - - _kingfisher_: builds in holes in sand-banks near water. Its - peculiar rattle sounds like the small boys' "clapper." - -PAGE 63 - - "_The present only toucheth thee!_": Burns's poem "To a Mouse." - -PAGE 64 - - "_The fair music that all creatures made_": from Milton's poem - "To a Solemn Music," "solemn" meaning "orchestral" music. - -PAGE 65 - - _then doubling once more_: This is all figurative language. I am - thinking of myself as the fox. The dogs have run themselves to - death on my trail, and I am turning back, "doubling," to have a - look at them and to rejoice over their defeat. - -PAGE 71 - - _pine marten_: The marten is so rare in this neighborhood that I - am inclined to think the creature was the large weasel. - -PAGE 73 - - _the heavy bar across their foreheads_: a very unusual way of - yoking oxen in the United States. The only team I ever saw here - so yoked. - -PAGE 74 - - _San Francisco_: alluding to the earthquake and fire which - nearly wiped out the city in 1906. - - -CHAPTER IX - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - The picture of the young buzzard is as true as a photograph; the - bumped-up drawing of the old bird looks precisely as she did - atop her dead tree, watching my approach. This vulture rarely - soars into New England skies; down South, especially along the - coast, the smaller black vulture (_Catharista urubu_) is found - very tame and in great abundance; while in the far Southwest - lives the great condor. - -PAGE 80 - - _tulip poplar_: tulip-tree (_Liriodendron tulipifera_). - - "_For it had bene an auncient tree_": from Edmund Spenser's - "Shepherd's Calendar." - -PAGE 85 - - _a dozen kinds of cramps_: Perhaps you will say I didn't find - much in finding the buzzard's nest, and got mostly cramps! Yes, - but I also got the buzzard's nest--a thing that I had wanted to - see for many years. It was worth seeing, however, for its own - sake. Even a buzzard is interesting. See the account of him in - "Wild Life Near Home," the chapter called "A Buzzard's Banquet." - - -CHAPTER XI - - -TO THE TEACHER - - The point of the story is the enthusiasm of the naturalists for - their work--work that to the uncaring and unknowing seemed not - even worth while. But all who do great things do them with all - their might. No one can stop to count the cost whose soul is - bent on great things. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 94 - - _Burlington_: in Vermont. - - _Concord and Middleboro_: in Massachusetts. - - _Zadoc Thompson_: a Vermont naturalist. - - _D. Henry Thoreau_: better known as Henry D. Thoreau; author of - "Walden," etc. - - _J. W. P. Jenks_: for many years head of Pierce Academy, - Middleboro, and later Professor of Agricultural Zoology in - Brown University. - -PAGE 96 - - _Contributions_: used in place of the whole name: Go yourself - into the public library and read this and look at the four large - volumes. - -PAGE 101 - - _spatter-docks_: yellow pond-lily (_Nuphar advena_). - -PAGE 102 - - _dinosaurian_: one of the fossil reptile monsters of the - Mesozoic, or "middle," period of the earth's history, before the - age of man. - - -CHAPTER XII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - In this story I have tried to settle the difficult question of - debit and credit between me and the out-of-doors. Shall we - exterminate the red squirrels, the hawks, owls, etc., is a - question that is not so easily answered as one might think. The - fact is we do not want to exterminate _any_ of our native forms - of life--we need them all, and owe them more, each of them, for - the good they do us, than they owe us for the little harm they - may do us. Read this over with the children with its moral and - economic lesson in view. Send to the National Association of - Audubon Societies, New York City, for their free leaflets upon - this matter. The Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture, - Harrisburg, Pa., has a bulletin upon this same subject which - will be sent free upon application. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 115 - - _June-bug_: the very common brown beetle whose big white grubs - you dig up under the sod and in composts. - -PAGE 118 - - _rose-breasted grosbeak_: one of the most beautiful of our - birds, and a lovely singer. - -PAGE 120 - - _Chickaree_: the common name of the red squirrel. The red - squirrel does not need to be destroyed. - - _tree swallows_: They build in holes in orchard trees, etc.; to - be distinguished on the wing from the barn swallows by their - white bellies and plain, only slightly forked tails. - - _chippies_: the little chipping sparrow, or hair-bird. - - _red-eyed vireos_: the most common of the vireos; see picture - of its nest on page 40 of "Winter." - -PAGE 121 - - _cowbird_: the miserable brown-headed blackbird that lays its - egg or eggs in smaller birds' nests and leaves its young to be - fed by the unsuspecting foster-mother. As the young cowbird is - larger than the rightful young, it gets all the food and causes - them to starve. - -PAGE 122 - - _Thorn Mountain_: one of the smaller of the White Mountains; it - overlooks the village of Jackson, N. H. - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -TO THE TEACHER - - If you have read through "The Fall of the Year" and "Winter" and - to this chapter in "The Spring of the Year," you will know that - the upshot of these thrice thirteen readings has been to take - you and your children into the woods; you will know that the - last paragraph of this last chapter is the aim and purpose and - key of all three books. You must _go_ into the woods, you must - lead your children to go, deep and far and frequently. The Three - R's first--but after them, before dancing, or cooking, or - sewing, or manual training, or anything, send your children out - into the open, where they belong. The school can give them - nothing better than the Three R's, and can only fail in trying - to give them more, except it give them the freedom of the - fields. Help Nature, the old nurse, to take your children on her - knee. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 128 - - _Here is the prescription_: Think you can swallow it? Go out and - try. - -PAGE 129 - - _Golden Chariot_: In what Bible story does the Golden Chariot - descend? and whom does it carry away? - - _pale-face_: an Indian name for the white man. - -PAGE 130 - - _box turtles_: They are sometimes found as far north as the - woods of Cape Cod, Massachusetts; but are very abundant farther - south. - -PAGE 133 - - _Chewink_: towhee, or ground-robin; to be distinguished by his - loud call of "chewink" and his vigorous scratching among the - leaves. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Spring of the Year, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPRING OF THE YEAR *** - -***** This file should be named 42144.txt or 42144.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/4/42144/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, 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.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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