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diff --git a/42199-0.txt b/42199-0.txt index a0fa355..b9740d7 100644 --- a/42199-0.txt +++ b/42199-0.txt @@ -1,39 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Winter, by Dallas Lore Sharp, Illustrated by -Robert Bruce Horsfall - - -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: Winter - - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - - - -Release Date: February 28, 2013 [eBook #42199] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINTER*** - - -E-text prepared by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42199 *** Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. @@ -3997,362 +3962,4 @@ PAGE 133 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . 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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. 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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: Winter - - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - - - -Release Date: February 28, 2013 [eBook #42199] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINTER*** - - -E-text prepared by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 42199-h.htm or 42199-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42199/42199-h/42199-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42199/42199-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - http://archive.org/details/winterdallas00sharrich - - - - - -[Illustration: THE FOX SPARROWS' BATH (page 56)] - - -The Dallas Lore Sharp Nature Series - -WINTER - -by - -DALLAS LORE SHARP - -Author of "The Fall of the Year," "The Lay of The Land," -"The Face of the Fields," etc. - -Illustrated by Robert Bruce Horsfall - - - - - - - -Boston New York Chicago -Houghton Mifflin Company - -The Riverside Press Cambridge - -Copyright, 1905, by Doubleday, Page and Company -Copyright, 1906, by the Chapple Publishing Company -Copyright, 1910, 1911, by Perry Mason Company -Copyright, 1912, by the Golden Rule Publishing Company -Copyright, 1912, by the Century Company -Copyright, 1908, 1911, 1912, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -All Rights Reserved - - - - - TO - THE FOUR SMALL BOYS - ON MULLEIN HILL - WHO HUNT THE SNOW WITH ME - - - - -CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION ix - I. HUNTING THE SNOW 1 - II. THE TURKEY DRIVE 15 - III. WHITE-FOOT 29 - IV. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS WINTER 39 - V. CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS 46 - VI. CHICKADEE 61 - VII. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS WINTER 74 - VIII. THE MISSING TOOTH 80 - IX. THE PECULIAR 'POSSUM 94 - X. A FEBRUARY FRESHET 105 - XI. A BREACH IN THE BANK 112 - XII. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS WINTER 123 - XIII. THE LAST DAY OF WINTER 129 - NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS 137 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - THE FOX SPARROWS' BATH _Frontispiece_ - SKUNK TRACKS 3 - CAT TRACKS 4 - TRACKS OF HARE JOINED BY DOGS 6 - "IN A BURST OF SPEED ACROSS THE OPEN FIELD" 7 - DOG TRACKS IN FOUR INCHES OF SNOW 7 - TRACKS OF THE WHITE-FOOTED MOUSE 9 - "A GRAY SQUIRREL WITH A RED SQUIRREL AT HIS HEELS" 11 - FOX TRACKS 12 - MUSKRAT TRAIL 14 - "INTO THE AIR THEY WENT" 26 - WHITE-FOOT--"IN THE WINTER GALES" 33 - "FIVE WEE MICE" 35 - WHITE-FOOT AND THE HICKORY-NUTS 38 - A VIREO'S NEST IN WINTER 40 - "WIND-SWEEPINGS" 41 - 'POSSUM IN THE PERSIMMON TREE 50 - WEASEL--"WATCHING ME FROM BETWEEN THE STICKS" 58 - "A CHICKADEE!" 62 - "DOING THE EXCAVATING THEMSELVES" 69 - FOOD FOR THE NUTHATCHES 76 - THE MOURNING-CLOAK BUTTERFLY, AN EARLY FLITTER 77 - A RUFFED GROUSE TRAIL 78 - "THE SNOW HAD MELTED FROM THE RIVER MEADOWS" 80 - "CARRYING A BIG BOB-TAILED VOLE OUT OF MY 'MOWING'" 85 - "SCURRYING THROUGH THE TOPS OF SOME PITCH PINES" 90 - "ALL THE AFTERNOON THE CROWS HAVE BEEN GOING OVER" 93 - THE DUCK-BILLED PLATYPUS, OR DUCK-BILL 97 - THE ECHIDNA, OR PORCUPINE ANT-EATER 98 - "STANDING BEFORE A LARGE 'POSSUM" 99 - "OUT SHE SPILLED AND NINE LITTLE 'POSSUMS WITH HER" 100 - "A GREAT BLUE HERON WOULD BEAT PONDEROUSLY ACROSS" 106 - MEADOW MOUSE--"IN A DRIFTING CATBIRD'S NEST" 109 - "A LITTLE FIGURE IN YELLOW OIL-SKINS" 114 - "DREW A LIMP LITTLE FORM OUT OF THE WATER" 121 - QUAIL--"ONE OF THE COVEY CALLING THE FLOCK TOGETHER" 127 - "A FLOCK OF ROBINS DASHING INTO THE CEDARS" 131 - PUSSY-WILLOWS AND WATERCRESS 132 - "THE HAZELNUT BUSHES ARE IN BLOOM" 133 - BLUEBIRD--"LIKE A BIT OF SUMMER SKY" 135 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -As in _The Fall of the Year_, so here in _Winter_, the second volume -of this series, I have tried by story and sketch and suggestion to -catch the spirit of the season. In this volume it is the large, free, -strong, fierce, wild soul of Winter which I would catch, the bitter -boreal might that, out of doors, drives all before it; that challenges -all that is wild and fierce and strong and free and large within us, -till the bounding red blood belts us like an equator, and the glow of -all the tropics blooms upon our faces and down into the inmost of our -beings. - -Winter within us means vitality and purpose and throbbing life; and -without us in our fields and woods it means widened prospect, the -storm of battle, the holiness of peace, the poetry of silence and -darkness and emptiness and death. And I have tried throughout this -volume to show that Winter is only a symbol, that death is only an -appearance, that life is everywhere, and that everywhere life -dominates even while it lies buried under the winding-sheet of the -snow. - - "A simple child, - That lightly draws its breath, - What should it know of death?" - -Why, this at least, that the winter world is not dead; that the cold -is powerless to destroy; that life flees and hides and sleeps, only -to waken again, forever stronger than death--fresher, fairer, sweeter -for its long winter rest. - -But first of all, and always, I have tried here to be a naturalist and -nature-lover, pointing out the sounds and sights, the things to do, -the places to visit, the how and why, that the children may know the -wild life of winter, and through that knowledge come to love winter -for its own sake. - -And they will love it. Winter seems to have been made especially for -children. They do not have rheumatism. Let the old people hurry off -down South, but turn the children loose in the snow. The sight of a -snowstorm affects a child as the smell of catnip affects a cat. He -wants to roll over and over and over in it. And he should roll in it; -the snow is his element as it is a polar bear cub's. - -I love the winter, and so do all children--its bare fields, empty -woods, flattened meadows, its ranging landscapes, its stirless -silences, its tumult of storms, its crystal nights with stars new cut -in the glittering sky, its challenge, defiance, and mighty wrath. I -love its wild life--its birds and animals; the shifts they make to -conquer death. And then, out of this winter watching, I love the -gentleness that comes, the sympathy, the understanding! One gets very -close to the heart of Nature through such understanding. - - DALLAS LORE SHARP. - MULLEIN HILL, March, 1912. - - - - -WINTER - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HUNTING THE SNOW - - -You want no gun, no club, no game-bag, no steel trap, no snare when -you go hunting the snow. Rubber boots or overshoes, a good, stout -stick to help you up the ridges, a pair of field-glasses and a keen -eye, are all you need for this hunt,--besides, of course, the snow and -the open country. - -You have shoveled the first snow of the winter; you have been -snowballing in it; you have coasted on it; and gone sleigh-riding over -it; but unless you have gone hunting over it you have missed the -rarest, best sport that the first snowfall can bring you. - -Of all the days to be out in the woods, the day that follows the first -snowfall is--the best? No, not the best. For there is the day in April -when you go after arbutus; and there is the day in June when the -turtles come out to lay in the sand; the muggy, cloudy day in August -when the perch are hungry for you in the creek; the hazy Indian -Summer day when the chestnuts are dropping for you in the pastures; -the keen, crisp February day when the ice spreads glassy-clear and -smooth for you over the mill-pond; the muddy, raw, half-thawed, -half-lighted, half-drowned March day when the pussy-willows are -breaking, and the first spring frogs are piping to you from the -meadow. Then there is--every day, every one of the three hundred and -sixty-five days, each of them best days to be out in the live world of -the fields and woods. - -But _one_ of the very best days to be out in the woods is the day that -follows the first winter snowfall, for that is the day when you must -shoulder a good stout stick and go gunning. Gunning with a stick? Yes, -with a stick, and rubber boots, and bird-glasses. Along with this -outfit you might take a small jointed foot-rule with which to measure -your quarry, and a notebook to carry the game home in. - -It ought to be the day after the first real snow, but not if that snow -happens to be a blizzard and lies deep in dry powdery drifts, for then -you could hardly follow a trail if you should find one. Do not try the -hunt, either, if the snow comes heavy and wet; for then the animals -will stay in their dens until the snow melts, knowing, as they do, -that the soft slushy stuff will soon disappear. The snow you need will -lie even and smooth, an inch or two deep, and will be just damp enough -to pack into tight snowballs. - -If, however, the early snows are not ideal, then wait until over an -old crusted snow there falls a fresh layer about an inch deep. This -may prove even better hunting, for by this time in the winter the -animals and birds are quite used to snow-walking, and besides, their -stores of food are now running short, compelling them to venture forth -whether or not they wish to go. - -It was early in December that our first hunting-snow came last year. -We were ready for it, waiting for it, and when the winter sun broke -over the ridge, we started the hunt at the hen-yard gate, where we saw -tracks in the thin, new snow that led us up the ridge, and along its -narrow back, to a hollow stump. Here the hunt began in earnest; for -not until that trail of close, double, nail-pointed prints went under -the stump were the four small boys convinced that we were tracking a -skunk and not a cat. - -The creature had moved leisurely--that you could tell by the closeness -of the prints. Wide-apart tracks in the snow mean hurry. Now a cat, -going as slowly as this creature went, would have put down her dainty -feet almost in a single line, and would have left round, -cushion-marked holes in the snow, not triangular, nail-pointed prints -like these. Cats do not venture into holes under stumps, either. - -We had bagged our first quarry! No, no! We had not pulled that wood -pussy out of his hole and put him into our game-bag. We did not want -to do that. We really carried no bag; and if we had, we should not -have put the wood pussy into it, for we were hunting tracks, not -animals, and "bagging our quarry" meant trailing a creature to its -den, or following its track till we had discovered something it had -done, or what its business was, and why it was out. We were on the -snow for animal _facts_, not pelts. - -We were elated with our luck, for this stump was not five minutes by -the ridge path from the hen-yard. And here, standing on the stump, we -were only sixty minutes away from Boston Common by the automobile, -driving no faster than the law allows. So we were hunting, not in a -wilderness, but just outside our dooryard and almost within the -borders of a great city. - -And that is the first interesting fact of our morning hunt. No one but -a lover of the woods and a careful walker on the snow would believe -that here in the midst of hayfields, in sight of the smoke of city -factories, so many of the original wild wood-folk still live and -travel their night paths undisturbed. - -Still, this is a rather rough bit of country, broken, ledgy, -boulder-strewn, with swamps and woody hills that alternate with small -towns and cultivated fields for many miles around. - -Here the animals are still at home, as this hole of the skunk's under -the stump proved. But there was more proof. As we topped the ridge on -the trail of the skunk, we crossed another trail, made up of bunches -of four prints,--two long and broad, two small and roundish,--spaced -about a yard apart. - -A hundred times, the winter before, we had tried that trail in the -hope of finding the form or the burrow of its maker; but it crossed -and turned and doubled, and always led us into a tangle, out of which -we never got a clue. It was the track of the great northern hare, as -we knew, and we were relieved to see the strong prints of our cunning -neighbor again; for, what with the foxes and the hunters, we were -afraid it might have fared ill with him. But here he was, with four -good legs under him; and, after bagging our skunk, we returned to pick -up the hare's trail, to try our luck once more. - -We followed his long, leisurely leaps down the ridge, out into our -mowing-field, and over to the birches below the house. Here he had -capered about in the snow, had stood up on his haunches and gnawed the -bark from off a green oak sucker two and a half feet from the ground. -This, doubtless, was pretty near his length, stretched out--an -interesting item; not exact to the inch, perhaps, but close enough for -us; for who would care to kill him in order to measure him with -scientific accuracy? - -Nor was this all; for up the footpath through the birches came the -marks of two dogs. They joined the marks of the hare. And then, back -along the edge of the woods to the bushy ridge, we saw a pretty race. - -It was all in our imaginations, all done for us by those long-flinging -footprints in the snow. But we saw it all--the white hare, the -yelling hounds, nip and tuck, in a burst of speed across the open -field which must have left a gap in the wind behind. - -It had all come as a surprise. The hounds had climbed the hill on the -scent of a fox, and had started the hare unexpectedly. Off he had gone -with a jump. But just such a jump of fear is what a hare's magnificent -legs were intended for. - -Those legs carried him a clear twelve feet in some of the longest -leaps for the ridge; and they carried him to safety, so far as we -could read the snow. In the medley of hare-and-hound tracks on the -ridge there was no sign of a tragedy. He had escaped again--but how -and where we have still to learn. - -We had bagged our hare,--yet we have him still to bag,--and taking up -the trail of one of the dogs, we continued our hunt. One of the joys -of this snow-hunting is having a definite road or trail blazed for you -by knowing, purposeful wild-animal feet. - -You do not have to blunder ahead, breaking your way into this -wilderness world, trusting luck to bring you somewhere. The wild -animal or the dog goes this way, and not that, for a reason. You are -watching that reason all along; you are pack-fellow to the hound; you -hunt with him. - -Here the hound had thrust his muzzle into a snow-capped pile of -slashings, had gone clear round the pile, then continued on his way. -But we stopped; for out of the pile, in a single, direct line, ran a -number of mouse prints, going and coming. A dozen white-footed mice -might have traveled that road since the day before, when the snow had -ceased falling. - -We entered the tiny road, for in this kind of hunting a mouse is as -good as a mink, and found ourselves descending the woods toward the -garden patch below. Halfway down we came to a great red oak, into a -hole at the base of which, as into the portal of some mighty castle, -ran the road of the mice. That was the end of it. There was not a -single straying footprint beyond the tree. - -I reached in as far as my arm would go, and drew out a fistful of -pop-corn cobs. So here was part of my scanty crop! I pushed in again, -and gathered up a bunch of chestnut shells, hickory-nuts and several -neatly rifled hazelnuts. This was story enough. There must be a family -of mice living under the slashing-pile, who for some good reason kept -their stores here in the recesses of this ancient red oak. Or was this -some squirrel's barn being pilfered by the mice, as my barn is the -year round? It was not all plain. But this question, this constant -riddle of the woods, is part of our constant joy in the woods. Life -is always new, and always strange, and always fascinating. - -It has all been studied and classified according to species. Any one -knowing the woods at all, would know that these were mouse tracks, -would even know that they were the tracks of the white-footed mouse, -and not the tracks of the jumping mouse, the house mouse, or the -meadow mouse. But what is the whole small story of these prints? What -purpose, what intention, what feeling, do they spell? What and why?--a -hundred times! - -So it is not the bare tracks that we are hunting; it is the meaning of -the tracks--where they are going, and what they are going for. Burns -saw a little mouse run across the furrows as he was plowing and wrote -a poem about it. So could we write a poem if we like Burns would stop -to think what the running of these little mice across the snow might -mean. The woods and fields, summer and winter, are full of poems that -might be written if we only knew just all that the tiny snow-prints -of a wood mouse mean, or understood just what, "root and all, and all -in all," the humblest flower is. - -The pop-corn cobs, however, we did understand; they told a plain -story; and, falling in with a gray squirrel's track not far from the -red oak, we went on, our burdenless game-bag heavier, our hearts -lighter that we, by the sweat of our brows, had contributed a few ears -of corn to the comfort of this snowy winter world. - -The squirrel's track wound up and down the hillside, wove in and out -and round and round, hitting every possible tree, as if the only road -for a squirrel was one that looped and doubled, and tied up every -stump, and zigzagged into every tree trunk in the woods. - -But all this maze was no ordinary journey. He had not run this coil of -a road for breakfast, because a squirrel, when he travels, say for -distant nuts, goes as directly as you go to your school or office; -only he goes not by streets, but by trees, never crossing more of the -open in a single rush than the space between him and the nearest tree -that will take him on his way. - -What interested us here in the woods was the fact that a second series -of tracks, just like the first, except that they were only about half -as large, dogged the larger tracks persistently, leaping tree for -tree, and landing track for track with astonishing accuracy--tracks -which, had they not been evidently those of a smaller squirrel, would -have read to us most menacingly. - -As this was the mating season for squirrels, I suggested that it might -have been a kind of Atalanta's race here in the woods. But why did so -little a squirrel want to mate with one so large? They would not look -well together, was the answer of the small boys. They thought it much -more likely that Father Squirrel had been playing wood-tag with one of -his children. - -Then, suddenly, as sometimes happens in the woods, the true meaning of -the signs was fairly hurled at us, for down the hill, squealing and -panting, rushed a full-sized gray squirrel, with a red squirrel like a -shadow, like a weasel, at his heels. - -For just an instant I thought it was a weasel, so swift and silent and -gliding were its movements, so set and cruel seemed its expression, so -sure, so inevitable, its victory. - -Whether it ever caught the gray squirrel or not, and what it would -have done had it caught the big fellow, I do not know. But I have seen -the chase often--the gray squirrel nearly exhausted with fright and -fatigue, the red squirrel hard after him. They tore round and round -us, then up over the hill, and disappeared. - -One of the rarest prints for most snow-hunters nowadays, but one of -the commonest hereabouts, is the quick, sharp track of the fox. In the -spring particularly, when my fancy young chickens are turned out to -pasture, I have spells of fearing that the fox will never be -exterminated here in this untillable but beautiful chicken country. In -the winter, however, when I see Reynard's trail across my lawn, when I -hear the music of the baying hounds and catch a glimpse of the -white-tipped brush swinging serenely in advance of the coming pack, I -cannot but admire the capable, cunning rascal, cannot but be glad for -him, and marvel at him, so resourceful, so superior to his almost -impossible conditions, his almost numberless foes. - -We started across the meadow on his trail, but found it leading so -straightaway for the ledges, and so continuously blotted out by the -passing of the pack, that, striking the wallowy path of a muskrat in -the middle of the meadow, we took up the new scent to see what the -shuffling, cowering water-rat wanted from across the snow. - -A man is known by the company he keeps, by the way he wears his hat, -by the manner of his laugh; and among the wild animals nothing tells -more of character than their manner of moving. You can read animal -character as easily in the snow as you can read act and direction. - -The timidity, the indecision, the lack of purpose, the restless, -meaningless curiosity of this muskrat were evident from the first in -the starting, stopping, returning, going-on track he had plowed out in -the thin snow. - -He did not know where he was going or what he was going for; he knew -only that he insisted upon going back, but all the while kept going -on; that he wanted to go to the right or to the left, yet kept moving -straight ahead. - -We came to a big wallow in the snow, where, in sudden fear, he had had -a fit at the thought of something that might not have happened to him -had he stayed at home. Every foot of the trail read, "He would if he -could; if he couldn't, how could he?" - -We followed him on, across a dozen other trails, for it is not every -winter night that the muskrat's feet get the better of his head, and, -willy-nilly, take him abroad. Strange and fatal weakness! He goes and -cannot stop. - -Along the stone wall of the meadow we tracked him, across the -highroad, over our garden, into the orchard, up the woody hill to the -yard, back down the hill to the orchard, out into the garden, and back -toward the orchard again; and here, on a knoll just at the edge of the -scanty, skeleton shadow where the sunlight fell through the trees, we -lost him. - -Two mighty wings, we saw, had touched the snow lightly here, and the -lumbering trail had vanished as into the air. - -Close and mysterious the shadowy silent wings hang poised indoors and -out. Laughter and tears are companions. Life begins, but death -sometimes ends the trail. Yet the sum of life, outdoors and in, is -peace, gladness, and fulfillment. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE TURKEY DRIVE - - -The situation was serious enough for the two boys. It was not a large -fortune, but it was their whole fortune, that straggled along the -slushy road in the shape of five hundred weary, hungry turkeys, which -were looking for a roosting-place. - -But there was no place where they could roost, no safe place, as the -boys well knew, for on each side of the old road stretched the forest -trees, a dangerous, and in the weakened condition of the turkeys, an -impossible roost on such a night as was coming. - -For the warm south wind had again veered to the north; the slush was -beginning to grow crusty, and a fine sifting of snow was slanting -through the open trees. Although it was still early afternoon, the -gloom of the night had already settled over the forest, and the -turkeys, with empty crops, were peevishly searching the bare trees for -a roost. - -It was a strange, slow procession that they made, here in the New -Brunswick forest--the flock of five hundred turkeys, toled forward by -a boy of eighteen, kept in line by a well-trained shepherd-dog that -raced up and down the straggling column, and urged on in the rear by -a boy of nineteen, who was followed, in his turn, by an old horse and -farm wagon, creeping along behind. - -It was growing more difficult all the time to keep the turkeys moving. -But they must not be allowed to stop until darkness should put an end -to the march. And they must not be allowed to take to the trees at -all. Some of them, indeed, were too weak to roost high; but the flock -would never move forward again if exposed in the tall trees on such a -night as this promised to be. - -The thing to do was to keep them stirring. Once allow them to halt, -give one of them time to pick out a roosting-limb for himself, and the -march would be over for that afternoon. The boys knew their flock. -This was not their first drive. They knew from experience that once a -turkey gets it into his small head to roost, he is bound to roost. -Nothing will stop him. And in this matter the flock acts as a single -bird. - -In the last village, back along the road, through which they had -passed, this very flock took a notion suddenly to go to roost, and to -go to roost on a little chapel as the vesper bells were tolling. The -bells were tolling, the worshipers were gathering, when, with a loud -gobble, one of the turkeys in the flock sailed into the air and -alighted upon the ridge-pole beside the belfry! Instantly the flock -broke ranks, ran wildly round the little building, and with a clamor -that drowned the vesper bell, came down on the chapel in a feathered -congregation that covered every shingle of the roof. Only the humor -and quick wit of the kindly old priest prevented the superstitious of -his people from going into a panic. The service had to wait until the -birds made themselves comfortable for the night--belfry, roof, -window-sills, and porch steps thick with roosting turkeys! - -The boys had come to have almost a fear of this mania for roosting, -for they never knew when it might break out or what strange turn it -might take. They knew now, as the snow and the gray dusk began to -thicken in the woods, that the flock must not go to roost. Even the -dog understood the signs,--the peevish _quint, quint, quint_, the -sudden bolting of some gobbler into the brush, the stretching necks, -the lagging steps,--and redoubled his efforts to keep the line from -halting. - -For two days the flock had been without food. Almost a week's supply -of grain, enough to carry them through to the border, had been loaded -into the wagon before starting in upon this wild, deserted road -through the Black Creek region; but the heavy, day-long snowstorm had -prevented their moving at all for one day, and had made travel so -nearly impossible since then that here they were, facing a blizzard, -with night upon them, five hundred starving turkeys straggling wearily -before them, and a two days' drive yet to go! - -The two brothers had got a short leave from college, and had started -their turkey drive in the more settled regions back from the New -Brunswick border. They had bought up the turkeys from farm to farm, -had herded them in one great flock as they drove them leisurely along, -and had moved all the while toward the state line, whence they planned -to send them through Maine for the New England market. Upon reaching -the railroad, they would rest and feed the birds, and ship them, in a -special freight-car ordered in advance, to a Boston commission house, -sell the horse and rig for what they could get, and, with their dog, -go directly back to college. - -More money than they actually possessed had gone into the daring -venture. But the drive had been more than successful until the -beginning of the Black Creek road. The year before they had gone over -the same route, which they had chosen because it was sparsely settled -and because the prices were low. This year the farmers were expecting -them; the turkeys were plentiful; and the traveling had been good -until this early snow had caught them here in the backwoods and held -them; and now, with the sudden shift of the wind again to the north, -it threatened to delay them farther, past all chance of bringing a -single turkey through alive. - -But George and Herbert Totman had not worked their way into their -junior year at college to sit down by the roadside while there was -light to travel by. They were not the kind to let their turkeys go to -roost before sundown. It was a slow and solemn procession that moved -through the woods, but it moved--toward a goal that they had set for -that day's travel. - -All day, at long intervals, as they had pushed along the deep forest -road, the muffled rumble of distant trains had come to them through -the silence; and now, although neither of them had mentioned it, they -were determined to get out somewhere near the tracks before the night -and the storm should settle down upon them. Their road, hardly more -here than a wide trail, must cross the railroad tracks, as they -remembered it, not more than two or three miles ahead. - -Leaving more and more of the desolate forest behind them with every -step, they plodded doggedly on. But there was so much of the same -desolate forest still before them! Yet yonder, and not far away, was -the narrow path of the iron track through the interminable waste; -something human--the very sight of it enough to warm and cheer them. -They would camp to-night where they could see a train go by. - -The leaden sky lowered closer upon them. The storm had not yet got -under full headway, but the fine icy flakes were flying faster, -slanting farther, and the wind was beginning to drone through the -trees. - -Without a halt, the flock moved on through the thickening storm. But -the dog was having all that he could do to keep the stragglers in -order; and George, in the rear, saw that they must stir the flock, for -the birds were gradually falling back into a thick bunch before him. - -Hurrying back to the wagon, he got two loaves of bread, and ran ahead -with them to Herbert. The famished turkeys seemed to know what he -carried, and broke into a run after him. For half a mile they kept up -the gait, as both boys, trotting along the road, dropped pieces of -bread on the snow. - -Then the whole game had to be repeated; for the greater part of the -flock, falling hopelessly behind, soon forgot what they were running -after, and began to cry, "_Quint! quint! quint!_"--the roosting-cry! -So, starting again in the rear with the bread, George carried the last -of the flock forward for another good run. - -"We should win this game," Herbert panted, "if we only had loaves -enough to make a few more touch-downs." - -"There's half an hour yet to play," was George's answer. - -"But what on?" - -"Oh, on our nerve now," the older boy replied grimly. - -"That railroad is not far ahead," said Herbert. - -"Half an hour ahead. We've got to camp by that track to-night or--" - -"Or what?" - -But George had turned to help the dog head off some runaways. - -Herbert, picking up a lump of frozen leaves and snow, began to break -this in front of the flock to tole them on. - -He had hardly started the birds again, when a long-legged gobbler -brushed past him and went swinging down the road, calling, "_Quint! -quint! quint!_" to the flock behind. The call was taken up and passed -along the now extended line, which, breaking immediately into -double-quick, went streaming after him. - -Herbert got out of the way to let them pass, too astonished for a -moment to do more than watch them go. It was the roosting-cry! An old -gobbler had given it; but as it was taking him, for once, in the right -direction, Herbert ordered back the dog that had dashed forward to -head him off, and fell in with George to help on the stragglers in the -rear. - -As the laggards were brought up to a slight rise in the road, the -flock was seen a hundred yards ahead, gathered in a dark mass about a -telegraph-pole! It could be nothing else, for through the whirling -snow the big cross-arms stood out, dim but unmistakable. - -It was this that the gobbler had spied and started for, this sawed and -squared piece of timber, that had suggested a barnyard to him,--corn -and roost,--as to the boys it meant a human presence in the forest -and something like human companionship. - -It was after four o'clock now, and the night was hard upon them. The -wind was strengthening every minute; the snow was coming finer and -swifter. The boys' worst fears about the storm were beginning to be -realized. - -But the sight of the railroad track heartened them. The strong-armed -poles, with their humming wires, reached out hands of hope to them; -and getting among the turkeys, they began to hurry them off the track -and down the steep embankment, which fortunately offered them here -some slight protection from the wind. But as fast as they pushed the -birds off, the one-minded things came back on the track. The whole -flock, meanwhile, was scattering up and down the iron rails and -settling calmly down upon them for the night. - -They were going to roost upon the track! The railroad bank shelved -down to the woods on each side, and along its whitened peak lay the -two black rails like ridge-poles along the length of a long roof. In -the thick half-light of the whirling snow, the turkeys seemed suddenly -to find themselves at home: and as close together as they could crowd, -with their breasts all to the storm, they arranged themselves in two -long lines upon the steel rails. - -And nothing could move them! As fast as one was tossed down the bank, -up he came. Starting down the lines, the boys pushed and shoved to -clear the track; but the lines re-formed behind them quickly, evenly, -and almost without a sound. As well try to sweep back the waves of the -sea! They worked together to collect a small band of the birds and -drive them into the edge of the woods; but every time the band -dwindled to a single turkey that dodged between their legs toward its -place on the roost. The two boys could have kept _two_ turkeys off the -rails, but not five hundred. - -"The game is up, George," said Herbert, as the sickening thought of a -passing train swept over him. - -The words were hardly uttered when there came the _tankle, tankle_ of -the big cow-bell hanging from the collar of the horse, that was just -now coming up to the crossing! - -George caught his breath and started over to stop the horse, when, -above the loud hum of the wires and the sound of the wind in the -forest trees, they heard through the storm the muffled whistle of a -locomotive. - -"Quick! The horse, Herbert! Hitch him to a tree and come!" called -George, as he dived into the wagon and pulled out their lantern. -"Those birds could wreck the train!" he shouted, and hurried forward -along the track with his lighted lantern in his hand. - -It was not the thought of the turkeys, but the thought of the people -on the flying Montreal express,--if that it was,--that sped him up -the track. In his imagination he saw the wreck of a ditched train -below him; the moans of a hundred mangled beings he heard sounding in -his ears! - -On into the teeth of the blinding storm he raced, while he strained -his eyes for a glimpse of the coming train. - -The track seemed to lie straightaway in front of him, and he bent his -head for a moment before the wind, when, out of the smother of the -snow, the flaring headlight leaped almost upon him. - -He sprang aside, stumbled, and pitched headlong down the bank, as the -engine of a freight, with a roar that dazed him, swept past. - -But the engineer had seen him, and there was a screaming of iron -brakes, a crashing of cars together, and a long-drawn shrieking of -wheels, as the heavy train slid along the slippery rails to a stop. - -As the engineer swung down from his cab, he was met, to his great -astonishment, by a dozen turkeys clambering up the embankment toward -him. He had plowed his way well among the roosting flock and brushed -them unhurt from the rails as the engine skidded along to its slow -stop. - -By this time the conductor and the train-hands had run forward to see -what it all meant, and stood looking at the strange obstruction on the -track, when Herbert came into the glare of the headlight and joined -them. Then George came panting up, and the boys tried to explain the -situation. But their explanation only made a case of sheer negligence -out of what at first had seemed a mystery to the trainmen. Both the -engineer and the conductor were anxious and surly. Their train was -already an hour late; there was a through express behind, and the -track must be cleared at once. - -And they fell at once to clearing it--conductor, fireman, brakemen, -and the two boys. Those railroad men had never tried to clear a track -of roosting turkeys before. They cleared it,--a little of it,--but it -would not stay cleared, for the turkeys slipped through their hands, -squeezed between their legs, ducked about their heels, and got back -into place. Finally the conductor, putting two men in line on each -rail, ordered the engineer to follow slowly, close upon their heels, -with the train, as they scattered the birds before them. - -The boys had not once thought of themselves. They had had no time to -think of anything but the danger and the delay that they had caused. -They helped with all their might to get the train through, and as they -worked, silently listened to the repeated threats of the conductor. - -At last, with a muttered something, the conductor kicked one of the -turkeys into a fluttering heap beneath the engine, and, turning, -commanded his crew to stand aside and let the engineer finish the rest -of the flock. - -The men got away from the track. Then, catching Herbert by the arm, -George pointed along the train, and bending, made a tossing motion -toward the top of the cars. - -"Quick!" he whispered. "One on every car!" and stepping calmly back in -front of the engine, he went down the opposite side of the long train. - -As he passed the tender, he seized a big gobbler, and sent him with a -wild throw up to the top of a low coal-car, just as Herbert, on his -side, sent another fluttering up to the same perch. Both birds landed -with a flap and a gobble that were heard by the other turkeys up and -down the length of the train. - -Instantly came a chorus of answering gobbles as every turkey along the -track saw, in the failing light, that real, buildings--farmyard -buildings--were here to roost on! And into the air they went, helped -all along the train by the two boys, who were tossing them into the -cars, or upon the loads of lumber, as fast as they could pass from car -to car. - -Luckily, the rails were sleety, and the mighty driving-wheels, -spinning on the ice with their long load, which seemed to freeze -continually to the track, made headway so slowly that the whole flock -had come to roost upon the cars before the train was fairly moving. - -Conductor and brakeman, hurrying back to board the caboose, were -midway of the train before they noticed what was happening. _How_ it -was happening they did not see at all, so hidden were the movements of -the two boys in the swirl of the blinding snow. - -For just an instant the conductor checked himself. But it was too late -to do anything. The train was moving, and he must keep it moving as -fast as he could to the freight-yards ahead at the junction--the very -yards where, even now, an empty car was waiting for the overdue -turkeys. - -As he ran on down the track and swung aboard the caboose, two other -figures closed in behind the train. One of them, seizing the other by -the arm, landed him safe upon the steps, and then shouted at him -through the storm:-- - -"Certainly you shall! I'm safe enough! I'll drive on to that old -sawmill to-night. Feed 'em in the morning and wait for me! Good-by," -and as the wind carried his voice away, George Totman found himself -staring after a ghost-white car that had vanished in the storm. - -He was alone; but the thought of the great flock speeding on to the -town ahead was company enough. Besides, he had too much to do, and to -do quickly, to think of himself; for the snow was blocking his road, -and the cold was getting at him. But how the wires overhead sang to -him! How the sounding forest sang to him as he went back to give the -horse a snatch of supper! - -He was soon on the road, where the wind at his back and the tall trees -gave him protection. The four-wheeled wagon pulled hard through the -piling snow, but the horse had had an easy day, and George kept him -going until, toward eight o'clock, he drew up behind a lofty pile of -slabs and sawdust at the old mill. - -A wilder storm never filled the resounding forests of the North. The -old mill was far from being proof against the fine, icy snow; but when -George rolled himself in his heavy blanket and lay down beside his -dog, it was to go to sleep to the comfortable munching of the horse, -and with the thought that Herbert and the turkeys were safe. - -And they were safe. It was late in the afternoon the next day when -George, having left the wagon at the mill, came floundering behind the -horse through the unbroken road into the streets of the junction, to -find Herbert anxiously waiting for him, and the turkeys, with full -crops, trying hard to go to roost inside their double-decked car. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -WHITE-FOOT - - -The December rain was falling down, down, down, as if the drops were -lead instead of water. The December sky, if you could call it sky, had -settled down, down, down, as if it too were of lead, and were being -propped up only by the tops of the stiff bare trees. - -A green stick in the fireplace behind me sizzled and sputtered and -blew its small steam whistles to warn me away from the window,--from -the sight of the naked trees, and the cold, thick fog upon the meadow, -and the blur of the pine woods beyond, and the rain falling down, -down, down. - -A dreary world out of doors surely, with not a sign of life! The pine -tree, rising up above the hillside in front of the window, was green, -but only a few lifeless leaves rattled among the middle branches of -the oaks, while up in the stark top of a hickory sapling was wedged a -robin's nest, deserted and wet and going to pieces. - -I shivered, in spite of the hearth-fire behind me, for the face of the -gray gloom pressed close up against the window outside. And the empty -robin's nest, already a ruin! its mud walls broken, its tiny timbers -hanging loose in the rain! - -But what a large nest for a robin, I thought; and how strangely peaked -and pointed it is, like a little haycock! Then all at once, inside of -me, and all over me, I felt a warm, delightful feeling. - -"It isn't possible," said I aloud, but all to myself; "it isn't -possible that little White-Foot has moved into that old robin's nest -and fitted it up with a peaked roof for the winter?" - -And the thought of it started the warm, delightful feeling again -inside of me and all over me; and snatching up the tongs by the -fireplace I ran out into the December rain and tapped a few times on -the slender hickory sapling. - -And what do you think happened? - -It stopped raining? - -No. - -You broke your tongs? - -No. - -The nest fell out and hit you on the head? - -No. - -You ran back into the house again out of the rain? - -Yes, I did, and I went straight to the window and looked out again at -the robin's nest,--my deserted, ruined robin's nest, with its thick -thatch of waterproof cedar bark, with its little round door-hole in -the side, with its soft furry bed, all toasty warm, out of which with -my tapping tongs I had just roused White-Foot and brought him -sleepy-eyed to look down at me from his door. - -The rain continued to fall down; but my spirits went up, and up, at -the thought of that little mouse all safe and warm for the winter in -Robin's deserted nest. - -And so, if "there are no birds in last year's nest," as mourns a -doleful poem, you need not be sad on that account, for if you look -closely, you may find, now and then, a mouse in last year's nest--and -who will say that finding a mouse in a bird's nest is not almost as -interesting as finding a bird there? - -A robin's nest in the winter-time would be the wettest, muddiest, -coldest place in the world for a robin; but a mouse can take that old -robin's nest and turn it into a snuggery (if you know what a -"snuggery" is) so cozy and warm that neither the tip of Mr. Mouse's -sharp nose, nor the tip of his thin ears, nor the tippy-tip of his -long bare tail ever feels one sharp nip of the cold outside. - -So, if there are no birds in last year's nest (as surely there ought -not to be), take your tongs and tap, or, better, climb up, and reach -gently into the nest with your finger, for a mouse may be waiting -inside to bite you,--and that would be interesting. - -For a mouse is interesting--just as interesting in his mousy ways as a -whale in his whalish ways, or a robin in his ways. Can you name -anything that does not grow interesting as soon as you begin to watch -and study it? Large things, small things, Bengal tigers or -earthworms--all things will surprise and interest you if you will -study them for a season. - -I have a friend, for instance, who has shot more tigers, in more -lands, than any other living man; who knows more about tiger habits -and the tempers of the dangerous beasts than any other man; and who, -as I am writing this, is himself writing a book which is to be called -"Tiger Lands." That will be an exciting book, no doubt, for he has had -adventures that made my hair stand up on my head, just to hear about. -Yet I very much doubt if that book, with all its man-eaters, will be -any more interesting or any more valuable to us than Darwin's book on -earthworms. - -So am I going to sigh because there are no birds in last year's nests? -Had the poem said, "there are no _mice_ in last year's nests," that -might have made me sad, perhaps; though I am sure that I could go into -the woods almost any winter day and find plenty of old _stumps_ with -mice in them. And I am equally sure that there will be plenty of birds -in next summer's nests; so, until the robins come back and build new -nests, I am going to look out of the window these dark December days, -and think of White-Foot in Robin's old nest, high up there in the -slender sapling, where no cat can climb to him, and where no crow -will dare come to tear his house to pieces. - -[Illustration: "THERE HE WILL SWING IN THE WINTER GALES"] - -There he will swing in the winter gales with the snow swirling around -and beneath him; there he will dream through the rain and the slanting -sleet when his high sapling stairway is coated with ice and impossible -for him to climb; there he will live, and whenever I thump with the -tongs at his outer gate, up there in the little round doorway will -appear his head--his eyes, I should say, for he looks all eyes up -there, so large, so black, so innocent, so inquiring are they, so near -to rolling off down the tip of his nose with sheer surprise. - -I shall have many a cheering glimpse of White-Foot, many a comforting -thought of him, out there, his thatch snow-covered, his thick-walled -nest in the slender hickory riding the winter seas that sweep the -hilltop, as safe as the ships anchored yonder in the landlocked -harbor; and he will be much more comforting to me out there than here -in the house with me; for, strangely enough, while White-Foot never -seems to join the common mice in the barn, never a winter goes by -without one or more of his kind coming into the house for the cold -weather. - -This would be very pleasant if they could keep out of the pop-corn and -the nuts and the apples and the linen-drawers. But only recently one -got into the linen in the china-closet, and _chewed together_ the -loveliest damask nest that any being ever slept in. - -There was nothing for such conduct, then, of course, except to kill -her. But I did not kill her, though I take no credit to myself, for I -tried to kill her, as any one would have been tempted to do. - -I got her out of that linen-drawer in a hurry and chased her from -cupboard to couch, to radiator and bookcase, and lost her. The next -day I resumed the chase, and upset most of the furniture before she -finally gave me the slip. The next day she appeared, and once more we -turned things upside down, and once more from some safe corner she -watched me put the chairs back on their legs and pick up the pieces of -things. - -But the next morning, as I opened the grate of the kitchen stove to -light the fire, there in the ash-pan huddled that little mouse; and -under her in a bed of ashes, as if to reproach me forever, were five -wee mice, just born, blind and naked in the choking dust, babes that -should have been sleeping covered in a bed of downy damask in the -linen-drawer. - -I said I did not kill her. No, I reached in slowly, lifted her and her -babes out softly in my hand, carried them into a safe, warm place and -left them, devoutly hoping that they might all grow up to help -themselves, if need be, to an ear of pop-corn, or even to a cozy -corner and a sip of honey in the beehives. - -No, I don't believe I hoped all of that, for White-Foot is exceedingly -fond of honey, and no roof in all the out-of-doors is so much to his -liking as a beehive, warm with the heat of the clustered swarm; and -nowhere can he make such a nuisance of himself as inside the hive. - -A robin's nest, a beehive, a linen-drawer, a woodpecker's hole--almost -any place will do for the winter home, so thick and warm can the mice -build their walls, so many bins of acorns and grain do they lay up, -and so bold are they to forage when their winter stores run low. - -I had a curious experience with a white-footed mouse in the cellar one -winter. The small boys had carried into the cellar (to hide them from -me, I imagine) about four quarts of chestnuts which they had gathered. -A little later, when they went to get their nuts, the box was empty. -Not a chestnut left! - -"Have you eaten all our chestnuts, father?" - -"No, I haven't--not a nut," I answered. - -"Well, they are all gone!" was the wail. - -And so they were, but how, and where, we did not know. House mice had -not eaten them, for no shells were left behind; there were no rats or -squirrels in the cellar that fall; and as for one of the small -boys--that was past thought. The fact is, more suspicion was attached -to me in the case than anything in my previous conduct called for; -and, though altogether guiltless, I continued to be uncomfortably -quizzed from time to time about those chestnuts, until I began to -wonder if I _had_ got up in my sleep and devoured the four quarts, -shells and all. - -Then one day, while we were putting things shipshape in the vegetable -cellar, what did we come upon but a nice little pile of chestnuts -hidden away in a dark corner; then we discovered another pile, laid up -carefully, neatly, in a secret spot, where no human eye--except the -human house-cleaning eye, that misses nothing--would ever have seen -them, and where no big human hand would ever have put them. - -I was allowed to go then and there scot-free; and a trap was set for -the wood mouse. It was White-Foot, we knew. But we never caught her. -And I am glad of it, for after we took away what chestnuts we could -find, she evidently felt it necessary to make a new hoard, and began -with a handful of old hickory-nuts, shagbarks, that had been left in -the vegetable cellar beside the box of chestnuts. - -Now, however, she felt the insecurity of the inner cellar, or else she -had found a fine big bin out in the furnace cellar, for out there by -the furnace she took those nuts and tucked them compactly away into -the toe of one of my tall hunting-boots. - -There were double doors and a brick partition wall between the two -cellars. No matter. Here were the nuts she had not yet stored; and out -yonder was the hole, smooth and deep and dark, to store them in. She -found a way past the partition wall. - -Every morning I shook those nuts out of my boot and sent them rattling -over the cellar floor. Every night the mouse gathered them up and put -them snugly back into the toe of the boot. She could not have carried -more than one nut at a time--up the tall boot-leg and down the oily, -slippery inside. - -I should have liked to see her scurrying about the cellar, looking -after her curiously difficult harvest. Apparently, they were new nuts -to her every evening. Once I came down to find them lying untouched. -The mouse, perhaps, was away over night on other business. But the -following morning they were all gathered and nicely packed in the boot -as before. And as before I sent them sixty ways among the barrels and -boxes of the furnace room. - -But I did it once too often, for it dawned upon the mouse one night -that these were the same old nuts that she had gathered now a dozen -times. That night they disappeared. Where? I wondered. - -Weeks passed, and I had entirely forgotten about the nuts, when I came -upon them, the identical nuts of my boot, tiered carefully up in a -corner of the deep, empty water-tank away off in the attic! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS WINTER - - -I - -The first snowstorm! I would not miss seeing the first snowstorm, not -if I had to climb up to my high, tarry, smoky roof in the city and lie -down on my back, as I once did, in order to shut out everything but -the gray wavering flakes that came scattering from the sky. But how -marvelously white and airy they looked, too, coming down over the -blackened city of roofs, transfiguring it with their floating veil of -purity! You must see the first snowfall, and, if you want to, jump and -caper with the flakes, as I always do. - - -II - -The sorrows of winter are its storms. They are its greatest glories -also. One should no more miss the sight of the winter storms than he -should miss the sight of the winter birds and stars, the winter suns -and moons! A storm in summer is only an incident; in winter it is an -event, a part of the main design. Nature gives herself over by the -month to the planning and bringing off of the winter storms--vast -arctic shows, the dreams of her wildest moods, the work of her -mightiest minions. Do not miss the soft feathery fall that plumes the -trees and that roofs the sheds with Carrara marble; the howling -blizzard with its fine cutting blast that whirls into smoking crests; -the ice-storm that comes as slow, soft rain to freeze as it falls, -turning all the world to crystal: these are some of the miracles of -winter that you must not fail to see. - - -III - -You must see how close you had passed to and fro all summer to the -vireo's nest, hanging from the fork on a branch of some low bush or -tree, so near to the path that it almost brushed your hat. Yet you -never saw it! Go on and make a study of the empty nests; see -particularly how many of them were built out along the roads or -paths, as if the builders wished to be near their human neighbors--as, -indeed, I believe they do. Study how the different birds -build--materials, shapes, finish, supports; for winter is the better -season in which to make such study, the summer being so crowded with -interests of its own. - - -IV - -When the snow hardens, especially after a strong wind, go out to see -what you can find in the wind furrows of the snow--in the holes, -hollows, pockets, and in footprints in the snow. Nothing? Look again, -closely--that dust--wind-sweepings--seeds! Yes, seeds. Gather several -small boxes of them and when you return home take a small magnifying -glass and make them out--the sticktights, gray birches, yellow -birches, pines, ragweeds, milfoil--I cannot number them! It is a -lesson in the way the winds and the snows help to plant the earth. -Last winter I followed for some distance the deep frozen tracks of a -fox, picking out the various seeds that had drifted into every -footprint, just so far apart, as if planted in the snow by some modern -planting-machine. It was very interesting. - - -V - -When the snow lies five or six inches deep, walk out along the -fence-rows, roadsides, and old fields to see the juncos, the sparrows, -and goldfinches feeding upon the seeds of the dead weeds standing -stiff and brown above the snow. Does the sight mean anything to you? -What does it mean? - - -VI - -Burns has a fine poem beginning-- - - "When biting Boreas, fell and doure, - Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r," - -in which, he asks,-- - - "Ilk happing bird--wee, helpless thing!-- - - * * * * * - - What comes o' thee? - Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, - An' close thy e'e?" - -Did you ever ask yourself the question? Go forth, then, as the dusk -begins to fall one of these chill winter days and try to see "what -comes o'" the birds, where they sleep these winter nights. You will -find an account of my own watching in a chapter called "Birds' Winter -Beds" in "Wild Life Near Home." - - -VII - -You will come back from your watching in the dusk with the feeling -that a winter night for the birds is unspeakably dreary, perilous, and -chill. You will close the door on the darkness outside with a shiver -as much from dread as from the cold. - - "List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle,"-- - -you will think of the partridge beneath the snow, the crow in his -swaying pine-top, the kinglet in the close-armed cedar, the wild duck -riding out the storm in his freezing water-hole, and you will be glad -for your four thick walls and downy blankets, and you will wonder how -any creature can live through the long, long night of cold and dark -and storm. But there is another view of this same picture; another -picture, rather, of this same stormy, bitter night which you must not -miss seeing. Go out to see how the animals sleep, what beds they have, -what covers to keep off the cold: the mice in the corn-shocks; the -muskrats in their thick mud homes; the red squirrels in their rocking, -wind-swung beds, so soft with cedar bark and so warm that never a -tooth of the cold can bite through! - - "I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer - Shook off the pouthery snaw, - And hail'd the morning with a cheer, - A cottage-rousing craw." - - -VIII - -This winter I have had two letters asking me how best to study the -mosses and lichens, and I answered, "Begin now." Winter, when the -leaves are off, the ground bare, the birds and flowers gone, and all -is reduced to singleness and simplicity--winter is the time to observe -the shapes, colors, varieties, and growth of the lichens. Not that -every lover of nature needs to know the long Latin names (and many of -these lesser plants have no other names), but that every lover of the -out-of-doors should notice them--the part they play in the color of -things, the place they hold in the scheme of things, their exquisite -shapes and strange habits. - - -IX - -You should see the brook, "bordered with sparkling frost-work ... as -gay as with its fringe of summer flowers." You should examine under a -microscope the wonderful crystal form of the snow-flakes--each flake -shaped by an infinitely accurate hand according to a pattern that -seems the perfection, the very poetry, of mechanical drawing. - - -X - -What a world of gray days, waste lands, bare woods, and frozen waters -there is to see! And you should see them--gray and bare and waste and -frozen. But what is a frozen pond for if not to be skated on? and -waste white lands, but to go sleighing over? and cold gray days, but -so many opportunities to stay indoors with your good books? - -See the winter bleak and cheerless as at times you will, and as at -times you ought; still if you will look twice, and think as you look, -you will see the fishermen on the ponds catching pickerel through the -ice--life swimming there under the frozen surface! You will see the -bare empty woodland fresh budded to the tip of each tiny twig--life -all over the trees thrust forward to catch the touch of spring! You -will see the wide flinty fields thick sown with seeds--life, more life -than the sun and the soil can feed, sleeping there under "the tender, -sculpturesque, immaculate, warming, fertilizing snow"! - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS - - "'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house - Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." - - -But on the night before this particular Christmas every creature of -the woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow -was falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean -a hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning. - -Yet, when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the -great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the -giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, -into the deep, spongy bottom of the swamp below. It would be a perfect -Christmas in the woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for -me, and everywhere the telltale snow. - -And everywhere in the woods would be the Christmas spirit, too. As I -paused among the pointed cedars of the pasture, looking down into the -tangle at the head of the swamp, a clear, wild whistle rang in the -thicket, followed by a flash through the alders like a tongue of fire, -as a cardinal grosbeak shot down to the tangle of greenbrier and -magnolia under the slope of the hill. The bird was a fleck of flaming -summer. As warm as summer, too, were the pointed cones of stag-horn -sumac burning on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly -trees--trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with red berries. - -The woods were decorated for the Holy Day. The gentleness of the soft, -new snow touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded -sky and warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the -crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and the alder. The Christmas woods -were glad. The heart of the woods was full of Christmas peace. - -Now I did not imagine all of this as I went along. Perhaps there was -the spirit of Christmas in my heart, and so I found the spirit of -Christmas in the woods; but so it must have been with the household I -had just left, back on the city street. Every one had Christmas in his -heart, and so every one found Christmas in the Christmas-tree blazing -and glittering in its candle-flame blossoms and jeweled fruit. - -So there was real Christmas joy and peace--a real Christmas -spirit--abroad in the woods this snowy Christmas morning. The sky had -it, the trees had it, the soft white slopes had it, the softly flowing -creek had it, flowing softly toward the bay. - -But doubtless my own feelings had something to do with it all. This -was Christmas Day, and these were my home woods, the woods where I -tramped and trapped and "grew up" when a boy; and this was I, after -twenty years of absence, I, the boy again, back in the old familiar -pasture on my way to Lupton's Pond! - -Yes, I must say that I was almost afraid as I followed the old -cow-path across the pasture, now only a slightly sunken line in the -snow; I was afraid that the path might be gone. Twenty years are a -good many years for a cow-path to last. But evidently the cows had -been crossing every year since I had been away; and not a single new -crook had they worn in the old winding trail. Then I was afraid, as I -came to the fence where I could look down upon the pond, lest the pond -might have disappeared. But no, there it lay, sealed over, as if kept -for me by the snow! Then I looked fearfully over the pond, over the -steep ridge on the opposite shore to where there used to stand two -particular persimmon trees. - -My heart beat wildly for a moment. The woods up the ridge had been cut -off! Things had changed! I was confused and looked this way and that, -when, so near to me that I could scarcely believe my eyes, I saw the -twin trees, their hard, angular limbs closely globed with fruit, and -standing softly out against the sky! - -It was enough. Forgetting the twenty years, I hurried down across the -pond and up to the persimmon trees on the other side--up _into_ the -trees indeed, for I never stopped until I had climbed clear up into -the top among the ripe persimmons! - -Do you know what a persimmon, picked from a particular tree along -Cohansey Creek on Christmas Day, tastes like? especially when you have -not had a taste of persimmon for twenty years? No, you do not--because -you are not twenty years old, perhaps, and because you were not a boy -along Cohansey Creek, perhaps, and because, if you were, you did not -know those two particular persimmon trees, maybe. - -Nobody ever seemed to know the perfection of those persimmons, except -myself and the 'possums. Not one of the Luptons, who owned the -pasture, the pond, and the trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I -could remember, and certainly not one of them had ever tasted the -fruit of those two trees. There were other persimmon trees up and down -the township, others here along the pond; but these two were the only -trees to hold their fruit until Christmas, preserved with such -richness of flavor, such a gummy, candied, wild, woodsy quality, that -it could not decay. Those persimmons never decayed. They candied, -evaporated, wrinkled, fell, and vanished away. - -Or else the 'possums ate them--those that I did not eat. A 'possum had -already been here this Christmas morning before me. I had noted his -fresh tracks beneath the tree when I came up; and now, in the tree, I -saw where the snow had been brushed from several of the large limbs as -the 'possum had moved about in the top, eating his Christmas dinner. - -You never ate a Christmas dinner high up in the top of a persimmon -tree? But you will, perhaps, some day, as good a Christmas dinner, I -hope, as ours was. For such persimmons! Bob Cratchit's goose ("There -never was such a goose!") could not have been any better flavored. Nor -could the little Cratchits have been any hungrier for goose than I was -for persimmons. - -Now the 'possum had been having persimmons every night since the -frosts of October; so of course he felt no such hunger for persimmons -as I felt. But ripe persimmons would be a Christmas dinner for a -'possum every day in the year. There is nothing so unspeakably good as -persimmons if you happen to be a 'possum, or if you happen to be a -boy--even after twenty years! - -So the 'possum and I had our Christmas dinner together at Nature's -invitation, in the top of the persimmon tree. The 'possum, to be -sure, had eaten and gone before I came. But that is good form in the -woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, just before dawn, that -neither of us might be embarrassed, leaving his greetings for me in -sign-language in the snow. - -A Christmas dinner all alone would be cold cheer indeed. But I was not -alone. Here was good company and plenty of it. Did not the tracks talk -to me? With abundance of fruit still left in the tree, did I need to -see that 'possum fold up his napkin, pull down his vest, spread his -hands over his expansive person and groan in the fullness of his -feast? No; all of that was printed plainly in the snow. Why, I could -even hear his groans in his tumbled tracks at the foot of the tree, -where the fat old fellow had literally fallen over himself! What an -appetite! What a pudding of persimmons he must be! He can hardly walk -for fat! Look at his trail in the snow leading down toward the pond--a -big wide wallow where he has bounced along! - -So I slide down the tree and take up the 'possum's trail. We have -broken bread together, this 'possum and I, and now we will enter the -woods together in the same good-fellowship for the rest of the day. -Persimmons and good-will are very proper things to be filled with when -you go into the Christmas woods. - -And there is no better fellowship for such a tramp than the trail of -some animal like the possum or the mink or the fox. To go in with one -of these through the woods-door is to find yourself at home. Any one -can manage to get inside the woods, as the grocery boy or the census -man manages to get inside our houses. You can bolt in at any time on -business. But a _trail_, remember, is Nature's invitation. Go softly -in with possum, or rabbit, or coon, and at the threshold of the trees -you will be met by the Spirit of the Woods--you will be made a guest -in this secret, shadowy house of the out-of-doors. - -But do not fail first to break bread with the 'possum. A persimmon, or -a handful of wintergreen berries, or a nip of sassafras root, or a -piece of spruce gum, or a lump of liquid amber--share anything, take -any small part in the life of these who live wild in the woods, and -they will meet you at the threshold and make you more than welcome. - -I went in with the 'possum. He had traveled home leisurely and without -fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of persimmons. A good -happy world this, where such fare could be had for the picking! What -need to hurry home? Unless, indeed, one were in danger of falling -asleep by the way! So I thought, too, as I followed his winding path; -and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for a -moment with the compliments of the season. But when I finally found -him in his hollow gum, he was so sound asleep he barely knew that -some one was poking him gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry -Christmas. - -The 'possum had led me far along the creek to the centre of the empty, -hollow swamp, where the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a -timbered, unshingled roof between me and the wide sky. Far away -through the spaces of the rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards, -and under them, in lesser circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the -feet of the tall, clean trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, -I had something of a measure for the flight of the great birds. And -what power, what majesty and mystery in those distant buoyant wings! - -I have seen the turkey buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest -winter days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, -nothing yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in -the swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their -half-human tracks along the margin of the swamp stream showed that, if -not hungry, they at least feared that they might be. - -For a coon hates snow. He invariably stays in during the first light -snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in -fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, -like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be -that the soft snow makes bad hunting--for him. The truth is, I -believe, that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the -gunner. The new snow tells too clear a story. For the coon's home is -no dark den among the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or -tupelo. Once within, he is safe from the dogs, but his long, fierce -fight for life taught him generations ago that the nest-tree is a -fatal trap when behind the dogs come the axe and the gun. So he has -grown wary and enduring. He waits until the snow grows crusty, when -without sign, and almost without scent, he can slip forth among the -long shadows and prowl to the edge of dawn. - -Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy -a bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an -old nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white -berries, then mistletoe! - -It was not a surprise, however, for I had found it here before--a -long, long time before. It was back in my schoolboy days that I first -stood here under the mistletoe and had my first romance. There was no -chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance--only a boy, the -mistletoe, the giant trees, and the sombre silent swamp. But there was -more than that, there was the thrill of discovery, for until that day -the boy did not know that mistletoe grew outside of England, did not -know that it grew in his own native swamps! Rambling alone through the -swamps along the creek that day, he stopped under a big curious bunch -of green, high up in one of the gums, and--made his first discovery! - -So this Christmas Day the boy climbed up again at the peril of his -precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance. - - * * * * * - -I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and -then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land -of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun -lay warm, and here in the sheltered, briery border I came upon the -Christmas birds. - -There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping -in the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. -Such a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside -a city bird store. How far the different species understood one -another I should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant -sociability to them, as it certainly did to me. Doubtless the first -cause of their flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great -numbers of berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack of abundance or -of variety on this Christmas table. - -In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken, or -frost, grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, -and limbs of the smooth winterberry beaded with their flaming fruit. -There were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and -holly, cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on -the wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing -partridge-berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of -my dinner with the 'possum; now I picked a quantity of these -wintergreen berries, and continued my meal with the birds. And they -too, like the 'possum, had enough, and to spare. - -Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox -sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots -made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing -about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly -by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a -softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock, keel over and begin to -flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather -chilly tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury -indeed; for they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and -zest that they put into their scratching among the leaves. - -A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a -marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, -and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, -and laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the -blue of the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in -the heart of the noon, that the very swamp seemed to feel. - -Two months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the -beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in -February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole -coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I -dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled -into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; -tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped -among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the -slope rang the calls of meadowlarks. - -Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak, where, in the -thin snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The -ground was sprinkled with acorn-shells and trampled over with feet of -several kinds and sizes,--quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, -squirrel, and mouse feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had -gone on. Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the -cup end, where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and -cleaned out by the birds. - -As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail -leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of -cord-wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in -line as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's -trail," I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it -slowly to the pile of wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even -sooner than I saw, a pair of small, sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The -evil pointed head, heavy but alert, and with a suggestion of fierce -strength out of all proportion to the slender body, was watching me -from between the sticks of cord-wood. And just so had it been watching -the mice and the rabbits and the birds feasting under the tree! - -I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees -and hurled it. _Spat!_ it struck the end of a stick within an inch of -the ugly head, nearly filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the -head appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously -beside it. Now it was back where it first appeared, nor did it flinch -for the next ball, or the next. The third went true, striking with a -_chug_ and packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still -watching me a foot lower down. - -It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But happily -the weasels are few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me -than bold and murderous. It was foolish to want to kill--even the -weasel, for one's woods are what one makes them. And so I let the man -with the gun, who just then chanced along, think that I had turned boy -again, and was snowballing the woodpile just for the fun of trying to -hit the end of the biggest stick. - -I was glad he had come. The sight of him took all hatred out of me. As -he strode off with his stained bag I felt kindlier toward the -weasel--there were worse in the woods than he. He must kill to live, -and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? But the -other, the one with the blood-stained game-bag, he killed for the love -of killing. I was glad he had gone. - -The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when -I turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the -creek flats and the ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats -and constant play up in the air told of full crops and no fear for the -night, already softly gray across the silent fields. - -The air was crisper; the snow began to crackle under foot; the twigs -creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a brown beech leaf wavered -down and skated with a thin scratch over the crust; and pure as the -snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the soft gray twilight, came -the call of a quail. - -These were not the voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer. The -very face of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, -simple, single, pure! There was less for the senses, but how much -keener now their joy! The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle -of tiny icicles, and, out of the quiet of the falling twilight, the -voice of the quail! - -There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful -than one like this Christmas Day--warm, and still, and wrapped to the -round red berries of the holly in the magic of the snow. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -CHICKADEE - - -I was crunching along through the January dusk toward home. The cold -was bitter. A half-starved partridge had just risen from the road and -fluttered off among the naked bushes--a bit of life vanishing into the -winter night of the woods. I knew the very hemlock in which he would -roost; but what were the thick, snow-bent boughs of his hemlock, and -what were all his winter feathers in such a night as this?--this night -of cutting winds and frozen snow! - -The road dipped from the woods down into a wide, open meadow, where -the winds were free. The cold was driving, numbing here, with a power -for death that the thermometer could not mark. I backed against the -gale and sidewise hastened forward toward the double line of elms that -arched the road in front of the house. Already I could hear them creak -and rattle like things of glass. It was not the sound of life. Nothing -was alive; for what could live in this long darkness and fearful cold? - -The question was hardly thought, when an answer was whirled past me -into the nearest of the naked elms. A chickadee! He caught for an -instant on a dead stub of a limb that stuck out over the road, -scrambled along to its broken tip, and whisked into a hole that ran -straight down the centre of the old stub, down, for I don't know how -far. - -I stopped. The limb lay out upon the wind, with only an eddy of the -gale sucking at the little round hole in the broken end, while -somewhere far down in its hollow heart, huddling himself into a downy, -dozy ball for the night, had crept the chickadee. I knew by the very -way he struck the limb and by the way he turned in at the hole that he -had been there before. He knew whither, across the sweeping meadows, -he was being blown. He had even helped the winds as they whirled him, -for, having tarried along the roads until late, he was in a great -hurry to get home. But he was safe for the night now, in the very bed, -it may be, where he was hatched last summer, and where at this moment, -who knows, were crowded half a dozen other chickadees, the rest of -that last summer's brood, unharmed still, and still sharing the old -home hollow, where they were as snug and warm this fierce, wild night -as ever they were in the soft May days when they nestled here -together. - -The cold drove me on; but the sight of the chickadee had warmed me, -and all my shivering world of night and death. And so he ever does. -For the winter has yet to be that drives him seeking shelter to the -sunny south. I never knew it colder than in January and February of -1904. During both of those months I drove morning and evening through -a long mile of empty, snow-buried woods. For days at a time I would -not see even a crow, but morning and evening at a certain dip in the -road two chickadees would fly from bush to bush across the hollow and -cheer me on my way. - -They came out to the road, really to pick up whatever scanty crumbs of -food were to be found in my wake. They came also to hear me, and to -see me go past--to escape for a moment, I think, from the silence, the -desertion, and the death of the woods. They helped me to escape, too. - -Four other chickadees, all winter long, ate with us at the house, -sharing, so far as the double windows would allow, the cheer of our -dining-room. We served them their meals on the lilac bush outside the -window, tying their suet on so that they could see us and we could see -them during meal-time. Perhaps it was mere suet, and nothing else at -all, that they got; but constantly, when our "pie was opened, the -birds began to sing"--a dainty dish indeed, a dish of live, happy -chickadees that fed our souls. - -There are states in the far Northwest where the porcupine is protected -by law, as a last food resource for men who are lost and starving in -the forests. Porcupine is so slow that a dying man can catch him and -make a meal on him. Perhaps the porcupine was not designed by nature -for any such purpose, and would not approve of it at all. Perhaps -Chickadee was not left behind by Summer to feed my lost and starving -hope through the cheerless months of winter. But that is the use I -make of him. He is Summer's pledge to me. He tells me that this winter -world is a living world and not a dreary world of death. The woods are -hollow, the winds are chill, the earth is cold and stiff, but there -flits Chickadee, and--I cannot lose faith, nor feel that this -procession of bleak white days is all a funeral! If Chickadee can -live, then so can I. - -He is the only bird in my out-of-doors that I can find without fail -three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. From December to the -end of March he comes daily to my lilac bush for suet; from April to -early July he is busy with domestic cares in the gray birches down the -hillside; from August to December he and his family come hunting -quietly and sociably as a little flock among the trees and bushes of -the farm; and from then on he is back again for his winter meals at -"The Lilac." - -Is it any wonder that he was the first bird I ever felt personally -acquainted with? That early acquaintance, however, was not brought -about by his great abundance, nor by his very bad, bold manners, as -might be with the English sparrow. I got acquainted with him first, -because he wanted to get acquainted with me, he is such a cheerful, -confiding, sociable little bird! He drops down and peeps under your -hat-brim to see what manner of boy you are, and if you are really fit -to be abroad in this beautiful world, so altogether good both summer -and winter--for chickadees. - -He is not quite so sociable in summer as in winter, but if you were no -bigger than a chickadee (two and one half inches without your tail!) -and had eight babies nearly as big as yourself to hunt grubs for, -besides a wife to pet and feed, do you think you could be very -sociable? In the winter, however, he is always at liberty to stop and -talk to you, a sweet little way he has that makes him the easiest bird -in the world to get acquainted with. - -Last winter while I was tying up a piece of suet that had fallen into -the snow, a hungry and impatient chickadee lighted on the brim of my -felt hat. The brim bent under him, and he came fluttering down against -my nose, which I thought for an instant he was going to take for suet! -He didn't snip it off, however, as a certain blackbird did a certain -maiden's nose, but lighted instead on my shoulder. Then, seeing the -lump of suet in my hand, he flew up and perched upon my fingers and -held on, picking at the suet all the time I was tying it fast in the -bush. - -He is a friendly little soul, who loves your neighborhood, as, indeed, -most birds do; who has no fear of you, because he cannot think that -you could fear him and so would want to hurt him. - -Nature made him an insect-eater; but he has a mission to perform -besides eating pestiferous insects, and their eggs and grubs. This -destruction of insects he does that the balance of things may be -maintained out of doors, lest the insects destroy us. He has quite -another work to do, which is not a matter of grubs, and which in no -wise is a matter of fine feathers or sweet voice, but simply a matter -of sweet nature, vigor, and concentrated cheerfulness. - -Chickadee is a sermon. I hear him on a joyous May morning calling -_Chick-a-dee! dee! Chick-a-dee! dee!_--brisk, bright, and cheery; or, -soft and gentle as a caress, he whistles, _Phoe-ee-bee! -Phoe-ee-bee!_ I meet him again on the edge of a bleak winter night. -He is hungry and cold, and he calls, as I hasten along, _Chick-a-dee! -dee! Chick-a-dee! dee!_ brisk, bright, and cheery; or, following after -me, he talks to me with words as soft and gentle as a caress. - -Will you lend me your wings, Chickadee, your invisible wings on which -you ride the winds of life so evenly? - -The abundant summer, the lean and wolfish winter, find Chickadee -cheerful and gentle. He is busier at some seasons than at others, with -fewer chances for friendship. He almost disappears in the early -summer. But this is because of family cares; and because the bigger, -louder birds have come back, and the big leaves have come out and -hidden him. A little searching, and you will discover him, in one of -your old decayed fence-posts, maybe, or else deep in the swamp, -foraging for a family of from six to eight, that fairly bulge and boil -over from the door of their home. - -Here about Mullein Hill, this is sure to be a gray-birch home. Other -trees will do--on a pinch. I have found Chickadee nesting in live -white oaks, maples, upturned roots, and tumbling fence-posts. These -were shifts, only, mere houses, not real homes. The only good homelike -trees are old gray birches, dead these many years and gone to -punk--mere shells of tough circular bark walls. Halfway down the hill -is a small grove of these birches that we call the Seminary (because, -as a poet friend says, "they look like seminary girls in white -frocks"). Here the chickadees love to build. - -Why has Chickadee this very decided preference? Is it a case of -protective coloration--the little gray and black bird choosing to nest -in this little gray and black tree because bird and tree so exactly -match one another in size and color? Or is there a strain of poetry -in Chickadee's soul, something fine, that leads him into this -exquisite harmony--into this little gray house for his little gray -self? - -Explain it as you may, it is a fact that the little bird shows this -marked preference, makes this deliberate choice; and in the choice is -protection and poetry, too. Doubtless he follows the guidance of a -sure and watchful instinct. But who shall deny to him a share of the -higher, finer things of the imagination? - -His life is like his home--gentle and sweet and idyllic. There is no -happier spot in the summer woods than that about the birch of the -chickadees; and none whose happiness you will be so little liable to -disturb. - -Before the woods were in leaf last spring I found a pair of chickadees -building in a birch along the edge of the swamp. They had just begun, -having dug out only an inch of the cavity. It was very interesting to -discover them doing the excavating themselves, for usually they refit -some abandoned chamber or adapt to their needs some ready-made hole. - -The birch was a long, limbless cylinder of bark, broken off about -fourteen feet up, and utterly rotten, the mere skin of a tree stuffed -with dust. I could push my finger into it at any point. It was so weak -that every time the birds lighted upon the top the whole stub wobbled -and reeled. Surely they were building their house upon the sand! Any -creature without wings would have known that. The birds, however, -because they have wings, seem to have lost the sense of such -insecurity, often placing their nests as if they expected the nests -themselves to take wings and fly to safety when the rains descend and -the winds come. - -This shaking stub of the chickadees was standing directly beneath a -great overshadowing pine, where, if no partridge bumped into it, if -two squirrels did not scamper up it together, if the crows nesting -overhead in the pine did not discover it, if no strong wind bore down -upon it from the meadow side, it might totter out the nesting-season. -But it didn't. The birds were leaving too much to luck. I knew it, and -perhaps I should have pushed their card house down, then and there, -and saved the greater ruin later. Perhaps so, but who was I to -interfere in their labor? - -Both birds were at the work when I discovered them, and so busily at -it that my coming up did not delay them for a single billful. It was -not hard digging, but it was very slow, for Chickadee is neither -carpenter nor mason. He has difficulty killing a hard-backed beetle. -So, whenever you find him occupying a clean-walled cavity, with a -neat, freshly chipped doorway, you may be sure that some woodpecker -built the house, and not this short-billed, soft-tailed little tit. -Chickadee lacks both the bill chisel and the tail brace. Perhaps the -explanation of his fondness for birch trees lies here--because the -birch trees die young and soon decay! - -The birds were going down through the broken-off top, and not by a -hole through the leathery rind of the sides, for the bark was too -tough for their beaks. They would drop into the top of the stub, pick -up a wad of decayed wood and fly off to a dead limb of the pine. Here, -with a jerk and a snap of their bills, they would scatter the punk in -a shower so thin and far that I could neither hear it fall nor find a -trace of it upon the dead leaves of the ground. This nest would never -be betrayed by the workmen's chips, as are the woodpeckers' -nest-holes. - -Between the pair there averaged three beakfuls of excavating every two -minutes, one of the birds regularly shoveling twice to the other's -once. They looked so exactly alike that I could not tell which bird -was pushing the enterprise; but I had my suspicions. It was Mrs. -Chickadee! - -Mr. Chickadee was doing only part of his duty, and only -half-heartedly at that! Hers was the real interest, the real anxiety. -To be a Mr. Chickadee and show off! That's the thing! - -I sat a long time watching the work. It went on in perfect silence, -not a chirp, not the sound of a fluttering wing. The swamp along whose -margin the birds were building had not a joyous atmosphere. Damp, -dim-shadowed, and secret, it seemed to have laid its spell upon the -birds. Their very color of gray and black was as if mixed out of the -dusky colors of the swamp; their noiseless coming and going was like -the slipping to and fro of small shadows. They were a part of the -swamp--of its life, of its color, of its silence. They were children -of the swamp, sharing its very spirit, and that sharing was their -defense, the best protection that they could have had. - -It didn't save their nest, however. They felt and obeyed the spirit of -the Swamp in their own conduct, but the Swamp did not tell them where -to build. Birds and animals have wonderful instinct, or family wisdom, -but not much personal, individual wisdom. - -It was about three weeks later when I stopped again under the pine and -found the birch stub in pieces upon the ground. Some strong wind had -come, or some robber had been after the eggs, and had brought the -whole house tumbling down. - -But this is not the fate of all such birch-bark houses. Now and again -they escape; yet when they do it is always a matter for wonder. - -I was following an old disused wood-road once when I frightened a -robin from her nest. Her mate joined her, and together they raised a -great hubbub. Immediately a chewink, a pair of vireos, and two black -and white warblers joined the robins in their din. Then a chickadee -appeared. He had a worm in his beak. His anxiety seemed so real that I -began to watch him, when, looking down among the stones for a place to -step, what should I see but his mate emerging from the end of a tiny -birch stump at my very feet! She had heard the racket and had come out -to see what it was all about. At sight of her, Mr. Chickadee hastened -with his worm, brushing my face, almost, as he darted to her side. She -took the worm sweetly, for she knew he had intended it for her. But -how do I know it was intended for her, and not for the young? There -were no young in the nest; only eggs. Even after the young came (there -were eight of them!), when life, from daylight to dark, was one -ceaseless, hurried hunt for worms, I saw him over and over again fly -to Mrs. Chickadee's side caressingly and tempt her to eat. - -The house of this pair did not fall. How could it when it stood -precisely two and a half feet from the ground? But that it wasn't -looted is due to the amazing boldness of its situation. It stood -alone, close to the road, so close that the hub of a low wheel in -passing might have knocked it down. Perhaps a hundred persons had -brushed it in going by. How many dogs and cats had overlooked it no -one can say; nor how many skunks and snakes and squirrels. The -accident that discovered it to me had happened apparently to no one -else, so here it stood still safe, but only by the grace of Luck! - -Cutting a tiny window in the bark just above the eggs, I looked in -upon the little children every day. I watched them hatch, grow, and -fill the cavity and hang over at the top. I was there the day they -forced my window open; I was there the day when there was no more room -at the top, and when, at the call of their parents, one child after -another of this large, sweet bird family found his wings and flew away -through the friendly woods. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS WINTER - - -I - -You should go skating--crawling, I ought to say--over a pond of glare -ice this winter. Take the pond you are most familiar with. Go early on -a bright day, before any skater arrives, and lying flat upon the -clear, "black" ice, study the bottom of the pond and the fish that -swim below you. They have boats with glass bottoms along the -California coast, through which to watch the marvelous bottoms off -shore. But an Eastern pond covered with glare ice is as good, for such -ice is a plate-glass window into a wonder world. - - -II - -Fight your way one of these winter days to the crest of some high hill -and stand up against a northwest gale. Feel the sweep of the winds -from across the plain beneath you; hear them speaking close in your -ear, as they fly past; catch them and breathe them, until they run red -in your leaping veins. Master them, and make them, mighty as they are, -your own. And something large and free, strong and sound will pass -into you; and you will love the great world more, and you will feel -how fit a place, for the strong of heart, is this earth to live on. - - -III - -Keep a careful list of the winter birds you see; and visit every -variety of wood, meadow, and upland in your neighborhood--not -neglecting the parks and city trees--for a sight of the rarer winter -visitors, such as the snowy owl, the snow buntings, and the -crossbills. - - -IV - -If you know little about the birds, then this is the time to begin -your study. When they are so few and scarce? Yes, just because they -are few and scarce. On a June morning (unless you are at home in the -woods) you will be confused by the medley of songs you hear, and the -shapes flitting everywhere about you; and you may be tempted to give -up your study for the very multitude. Get a pair of good field or -opera glasses and a good bird book, such as Hoffmann's, "Guide to the -Birds," and go into the fields and woods--leaving the book at home. -The first bird you see follow up until you can remember (1) his size, -color--whether he has a white bar on wings, or small spots or large -clear spots on breast; (2) his chirp, or call; (3) something peculiar -about his flight--a flirt of the tail, a habit of flying down to the -ground in getting away. Then come back to your book and identify him -_from memory_. If you cannot, then go out again and again; and it will -not be long before either this first one, or others, will be -accurately made out--the beginning of an acquaintance that you can -extend in the summer, but which will be plenty large enough for your -"coming-out" winter into bird society. For here is a list of the birds -you may be able to find during the winter:-- - -Screech owl, crow, robin, flicker, jay, goldfinch, tree sparrow, -English sparrow, song sparrow, junco, golden-crowned kinglet, -nuthatch, brown creeper, downy woodpecker, quail, partridge. - - -V - -See to it that no bird in your neighborhood starves for lack of food -that you can supply. Tie a piece of suet to a tree or bush near the -house (by the window if you can) for the chickadees and blue jays; -keep a place on the lawn cleared of snow and well supplied with crumbs -and small seeds for the juncos and the sparrows; hang a netted bag of -cracked nuts out somewhere for the nuthatches; and provide corn and -nuts for the squirrels. - - -VI - -Go out on a cold December day, or a January day, and see how many -"signs" of spring--"Minor Prophets," as Mr. Torrey calls them--you can -bring home. They will be mostly buds of various sorts. Then, on a -warm, soft day, go again to see what you can bring home--flitting, -creeping, crawling things that the warm sun has brought from their -winter hiding. - - -VII - -Make a map of your sky, showing the positions of the planets, the -constellations, and the most brilliant stars, the points in the -horizon for the rising and setting of the sun, say, in January, noting -the changes in places of things since your last map drawn in October. -Any school child can do it, and, in doing it, learn the few large -facts about the sky that most people are pitifully ignorant of. - - -VIII - -Go out after a fresh light snow and take up the trail of a fox or a -rabbit or a partridge, as you might take up a problem in arithmetic, -or as a detective might take up a clew, and "solve" it--where the -creature came from, where going, what for, in a hurry or not, pursued -or pursuing, etc. It will give you one of the best of lessons in -observation, in following a clew, and in learning to take a hint. - - -IX - -Go out to study the face of the ground--the ridges, hollows, level -places, the ledges, meadows, sandbanks, the course of the streams, the -location of the springs--the general shape and contour, the pitch and -slant and make-up of the region over which you tramp in the summer. -Now, when the leaves are off and things swept bare, you can get a -general idea of the lay of the land that will greatly aid you in your -more detailed study of plants and birds, of individual things, in the -summer. It is like an outline map in your geography. - - -X - -Winter is the time to do much good reading. A tramp over real fields -is to be preferred to a tramp in a book. But a good book is pretty -nearly as good as anything under the stars. You need both fields and -books. And during these cold days--impossible days, some of them, for -work afield--you will read, read. Oh, the good things to read that -have been written about the out-of-doors! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE MISSING TOOTH - - -The snow had melted from the river meadows, leaving them flattened, -faded, and stained with mud--a dull, dreary waste in the gray -February. I had stopped beside a tiny bundle of bones that lay in the -matted grass a dozen feet from a ditch. Here, still showing, was the -narrow path along which the bones had dragged themselves; there the -hole by which they had left the burrow in the bank of the ditch. They -had crawled out in this old runway, then turned off a little into the -heavy autumn grass and laid them down. The rains had come and the -winter snows. The spring was breaking now and the small bundle, gently -loosened and uncovered, was whitening on the wide, bare meadow. - -Shall I stop beside this small bundle of whitening bones or shall I -turn my head away and pass on? Shall I allow you to stop with me in -our winter ramble and let you see the tragedy here in the flattened -meadow grass, or shall I hide from your eyes the dark, the bitter, the -tragic in the lives of the wild things out of doors? - -I think it is best to hide nothing from you. Real love for nature is -largely sympathy with nature; and there can be no sympathy without -intimate and full understanding of the struggle and suffering in the -lives out of doors. There is a dark story in this little bundle of -bones. Do you wish to hear it? There is a fierce, cruel threat in the -growl of the winter wind. Do you wish to hear that? There is menace -and death in the shrill scream of the hawk. Do you wish to hear that? -Or do you wish to hear only the song of the robin? only the whisper of -the summer breeze? only the story of the life and love and joy of -things? - -No, there are two sides to life--two sides to your life, the bright -and dark sides; two sides to the lives of all men, and to the lives of -all things. Summer is the bright side of Nature's life; winter is the -dark side. Summer and winter are both needed to round out the life of -the year; so tears and laughter seem to be needed in our lives; joy -and sorrow, peace and suffering, rest and hardship--these, or -something like them, seem to be needed in the lesser lives of birds -and beasts to round out their experience and make them keen and -strong. - -Happily, the pain and suffering in nature are largely hidden from us. -Wild things when stricken "turn their faces to the wall," retreat, -slink silently away out of sight to be alone. They do not wish us to -know. But we do know, and we need to know, if we would enter into -their lives as a sharer in them; and if we would enter into and -understand the larger, wider, deeper life of which they, and we, and -all things, are a part. - -You must pause with me above this little bundle of bones until I tell -you their story. - - * * * * * - -I had recognized the bones at once as the skeleton of a muskrat. But -it was something peculiar in the way they lay that had caused me to -pause. They seemed outstretched, as if composed by gentle hands, the -hands of sleep. They had not been flung down. The delicate ribs had -fallen in, but not a bone was broken nor displaced, not one showed the -splinter of shot, or the crack that might have been made by a steel -trap. No violence had been done them. They had been touched by nothing -rougher than the snow. Out into the hidden runway they had crept. -Death had passed by them here; but no one else in all the winter -months. - -The creature had died--a "natural" death. It had starved, while a -hundred acres of plenty lay round about. Picking up the skull, I -found the jaws locked together as if they were a single solid bone. -One of the two incisor teeth of the upper jaw was missing, and -apparently had never developed. The opposite tooth on the lower jaw, -thus unopposed and so unworn, had grown beyond its normal height up -into the empty socket above, then on, turning outward and piercing the -cheek-bone in front of the eye, whence, curving like a boar's tusk, it -had slowly closed the jaws and locked them, rigid, set, as fixed as -jaws of stone. - -At first the animal had been able to gnaw; but as the tooth curved -through the bones of the face and gradually tightened the jaws, the -creature got less and less to eat, until, one day, creeping out of the -burrow for food, the poor thing was unable to get back. - -We seldom come upon the like of this. It is commoner than we think; -but, as I have said, it is usually hidden away and quickly over. How -often do we see a wild thing sick--a bird or animal suffering from an -accident, or dying, like this muskrat, because of some physical -defect? The struggle between animals--the falling of the weak as prey -to the strong--is ever before us; but this single-handed fight between -the creature and Nature is a far rarer, silenter tragedy. Nature is -too swift to allow us time for sympathy. - -At best there is only a fighting chance in the meadow. Only strength -and craft may win; only those who have all of their teeth. The muskrat -with a single missing tooth never enters the real race of life at all. -He slinks from some abandoned burrow, and, if the owl and mink are not -watching, he dies alone in the grass, and we rarely know. - -I shall never forget the impression made upon me by those quiet bones. -It was like that made by my first visit to a great city hospital--out -of the busy, cheerful street into a surgical ward, where the sick and -injured lay in long white lines. We tramp the woods and meadows and -never step from the sweet air and the pure sunlight of health into a -hospital. But that is not because no sick, ill-formed, or injured are -there. The proportion is smaller than among us humans, and for very -good reasons, yet there is much real suffering, and to come upon it, -as we will, now and then, must certainly quicken our understanding and -deepen our sympathy with the life out of doors. - -No sensible person could for a moment believe the animals capable of -suffering as a human being can suffer; nor that there is any such call -for our sympathy from them as from our human neighbors. But an -unselfish sharing of the life of the fields demands that we take part -in all of it. - -Nature wears a brave face. Her smile is ever in the open, her laughter -quick and contagious. This brave front is no mask. It is real. -Sunlight, song, color, form, and fragrance are real. And so is our -love and joy in Nature real. Real, also, should be our sympathy and -sorrow with Nature. - -Here, for instance, are my crows: do I share fully in the life of -Nature so long as I think of the crow only with admiration for his -cunning or with wrath at his destruction of my melons and corn? - -A crow has his solemn moments. He knows fear, pain, hunger, accident, -and disease; he knows something very like affection and love. For all -that, he is a mere crow. But a mere crow is no mean thing. He is my -brother, and a real love will give me part in all his existence. I -will forage and fight with him; I will parley and play; and when the -keen north winds find him in the frozen pines, I will suffer with him, -too. - -Here again are my meadow voles. I know that my hay crop is shorter -every year for them,--a very little shorter. And I can look with -satisfaction at a cat carrying a big bob-tailed vole out of my -"mowing," for the voles, along with other mice, are injurious to man. - -But one day I came upon two of my voles struggling for life in the -water, exhausted and well-nigh dead. I helped them out, as I should -have helped out any other creature, and having saved them, why, what -could I do but let them go--even into my own meadow? This has happened -several times. - -When the drought dries the meadow, the voles come to the deep, -plank-walled spring at the upper end, to drink. The water usually -trickles over the curb, but in a long dry spell it shrinks to a foot -or more below the edge, and the voles, once within for their drink, -cannot get out. Time and again I had fished them up, until I thought -to leave a board slanting down to the water, so that they could climb -back to the top. - -It is wholesome to be the good Samaritan to a meadow mouse, to pour -out, even waste, a little of the oil and wine of sympathy on the -humblest of our needy neighbors. - -Here are the chimney swallows, too. One can look with complacency, -with gratitude, indeed, upon the swallows of other chimneys, as they -hawk in the sky; yet, when the little creatures, so useful, but so -uncombed and unfumigated, set up their establishments in _your_ -chimney, to the jeopardy of the whole house, then you need an -experience like mine. - -I had had a like experience years before, when the house did not -belong to me. This time, however, the house was mine, and if it became -infested with vermin because of the swallows, I could not move away; -so I felt like burning them in the chimney, bag and baggage. There -were four nests, as nearly as I could make out, and, from the -frequent squeakings, I knew they were all filled with young. Then one -day, when the young were nearly ready to fly, there came a rain that -ran wet far down the sooty chimney, loosened the mortar of the nests, -and sent them crashing into the fireplace. - -Some of the young birds were killed outright; the others were at my -mercy, flung upon me,--helpless, wailing infants! Of course I made it -comfortable for them on the back-log, and let their mothers flutter -down unhindered to feed them. Had I understood the trick, I would have -hawked for them and helped feed them myself! - -They made a great thunder in the chimney; they rattled down into the -living-room a little soot; but nothing further came of it. We were not -quarantined. On the contrary, we had our reward, according to promise; -for it was an extremely interesting event to us all. It dispelled some -silly qualms, it gave us intimate part in a strange small life, so -foreign, yet so closely linked to our own; and it made us pause with -wonder that even our empty, sooty chimney could be made use of by -Nature to our great benefit. - -I wonder if the nests of the chimney swallows came tumbling down when -the birds used to build in caves and hollow trees? It is a most -extraordinary change, this change from the trees to the chimneys, and -it does not seem to have been accompanied by an increase of -architectural wisdom necessary to meet all the conditions of the new -hollow. The mortar or glue, which, I imagine, held firmly in the empty -trees, will not mix with the chimney soot, so that the nest, -especially when crowded with young, is easily loosened by the rain, -and sometimes even broken away by the slight wing stroke of a -descending swallow, or by the added weight of a parent bird as it -settles with food. - -We little realize how frequent fear is among the birds and animals, -and how often it proves fatal. A situation that would have caused no -trouble ordinarily, becomes through sudden fright a tangle or a trap. -I have known many a quail to bolt into a fast express train and fall -dead. Last winter I left the large door of the barn open, so that my -flock of juncos could feed inside upon the floor. They found their way -into the hayloft and went up and down freely. On two or three -occasions I happened in so suddenly that they were thoroughly -frightened and flew madly into the cupola to escape through the -windows. They beat against the glass until utterly dazed, and would -have perished there, had I not climbed up later and brought them down. -So thousands of the migrating birds perish yearly by flying wildly -against the dazzling lanterns of the lighthouses, and thousands more -either lose their course in the thick darkness of the stormy nights, -or else are blown out of it, and drift far away to sea. - -Hasty, careless, miscalculated movements are not as frequent among the -careful wild folk as among us, perhaps; but there is abundant evidence -of their occasional occurrence and of their sometimes fatal results. - -Several instances are recorded of birds that have been tangled in the -threads of their nests; and one instance of a bluebird that was caught -in the flying meshes of an oriole's nest into which it had been -spying. - -I once found the mummied body of a chippy twisting and swinging in the -leafless branches of a peach tree. The little creature was suspended -in a web of horsehair about two inches below a nest. It looked as if -she had brought a snarled bunch of the hair and left it loose in the -twigs. Later on, a careless step and her foot was fast, when every -frantic effort for freedom only tangled her the worse. In the nest -above were four other tiny mummies--a double tragedy that might with -care have been averted. - -A similar fate befell a song sparrow that I discovered hanging dead -upon a barbed-wire fence. By some chance it had slipped a foot through -an open place between the two twisted strands, and then, fluttering -along, had wedged the leg and broken it in the struggle to escape. - -We have all held our breath at the hazardous traveling of the -squirrels in the treetops. What other animals take such -risks?--leaping at dizzy heights from bending limbs to catch the tips -of limbs still smaller, saving themselves again and again by the -merest chance. - -But luck sometimes fails. My brother, a careful watcher in the woods, -on one occasion when he was hunting, saw a gray squirrel miss its -footing in a tree and fall, breaking its neck upon a log beneath. - -I have frequently known squirrels to fall short distances, and once I -saw a red squirrel come to grief like this gray squirrel. He was -scurrying through the tops of some lofty pitch pines, a little hurried -and flustered at sight of me, and, nearing the end of a high branch, -was in the act of springing, when the dead tip cracked under him and -he came tumbling headlong. The height must have been forty feet, so -that before he reached the ground he had righted himself,--his tail -out and legs spread,--but the fall was too great. He hit the earth -heavily, and before I could reach him he lay dead upon the needles, -with blood oozing from his eyes and nostrils. - -Unhoused and often unsheltered, the wild things suffer as we hardly -yet understand. No one can estimate how many of our wild creatures die -in a year from severe cold, heavy storms, high winds and tides. I -have known the nests of a whole colony of gulls and terns to be swept -away in a great storm; while the tides, over and over, have flooded -the inlet marshes and drowned out the nests in the grass--those of the -clapper rails by thousands. - -I remember a late spring storm that came with the returning redstarts -and, in my neighborhood, killed many of them. Toward evening of that -day one of the little black-and-orange voyageurs fluttered against the -window and we let him in, wet, chilled, and so exhausted that for a -moment he lay on his back in my open palm. Soon after there was -another soft tapping at the window,--and _two_ little redstarts were -sharing our cheer and drying their butterfly wings in our warmth. Both -of these birds would have perished had we not harbored them for the -night. - -The birds and animals are not as weather-wise as we; they cannot -foretell as far ahead nor provide as certainly against need, despite -the popular notion to the contrary. - -We point to the migrating birds, to the muskrat houses, to the hoards -of the squirrels, and say, "How wise and far-sighted these -Nature-taught children are!" True, they are, but only for conditions -that are normal. Their wisdom does not cover the unusual. The gray -squirrels did not provide for the unusually hard weather of last -winter. Three of them from the woodlot came begging of me, and lived -on my wisdom, not their own. - -Consider the ravens, that neither sow nor reap, that have neither -storehouse nor barn, yet they are fed--but not always. Indeed, there -are few of our winter birds that go hungry so often as do the cousins -of the ravens, the crows, and that die in so great numbers for lack of -food and shelter. - -After severe and protracted cold, with a snow-covered ground, a -crow-roost looks like a battlefield, so thick lie the dead and -wounded. Morning after morning the flock goes over to forage in the -frozen fields, and night after night returns hungrier, weaker, and -less able to resist the cold. Now, as the darkness falls, a bitter -wind breaks loose and sweeps down upon the pines. - - "List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle, - I thought me on the ourie cattle,"-- - -and how often I have thought me of the crows biding the night yonder -in the moaning pines! So often, as a boy, and with so real an awe, -have I watched them returning at night, that the crows will never -cease flying through my wintry sky,--an endless line of wavering black -figures, weary, retreating figures, beating over in the early dusk. - -And to-night another wild storm sweeps across the winter fields. All -the afternoon the crows have been going over, and are still passing as -the darkness settles at five o'clock. Now it is nearly eight, and the -long night is but just begun. The storm is increasing. The wind -shrieks about the house, whirling the fine snow in hissing eddies past -the corners and driving it on into long, curling crests across the -fields. I can hear the roar as the wind strikes the shoal of pines -where the fields roll into the woods--a vast surf sound, but softer -and higher, with a wail like the wail of some vast heart in pain. - -I can see the tall trees rock and sway with their burden of dark -forms. As close together as they can crowd on the bending limbs cling -the crows, their breasts turned all to the storm. With crops empty and -bodies weak, they rise and fall in the cutting, ice-filled wind for -thirteen hours of night. - -Is it a wonder that the life fires burn low? that sometimes the small -flames flicker and go out? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE PECULIAR 'POSSUM - - -If you are a New Englander, or a Northwesterner, then, probably, you -have never pulled a 'possum out of his hollow stump or from under some -old rail-pile, as I have done, many a time, down in southern New -Jersey. And so, probably, you have never made the acquaintance of the -most peculiar creature in our American woods. - -Even roast 'possum is peculiar. Up to the time you taste roast 'possum -you quite agree with Charles Lamb that roast pig is peculiarly the -most delicious delicacy "in the whole _modus edibilis_," in other -words, bill of fare. But once you eat roast 'possum, you will go all -over Lamb's tasty "Dissertation upon Roast Pig," marking out "pig" -with your pencil and writing in "'possum," making the essay read -thus:-- - -"There is no flavor comparable, I will contend, to that of the crisp, -tawny, well-watched, not over-roasted, _'possum_, as it is -called,--the very teeth are invited to their share of the pleasure at -this banquet in overcoming the coy, brittle resistance,--with the -adhesive oleaginous--O call it not fat! but an indefinable sweetness -growing up to it--the tender blossoming of fat--fat cropped in the -bud--taken in the shoot--in the first innocence--" For no matter how -old your roast 'possum, he is as tender as the tenderest roast pig. -And that, of course, is peculiar. - -But live 'possum is more peculiar than roast 'possum. It is peculiar, -for instance, that almost all of the 'possum's relations, except his -immediate family, dwell apart in Australia,--in Australasia, for -marsupials are found also in Tasmania, New Guinea, and the -Moluccas--which islands the marsupials seem to have had given them for -their own when the world was made. There, at least, most of them live -and have lived for ages, except the 'possums. These latter, strangely -enough, live in South and North America, and nowhere else. The -peculiar, puzzling thing about them is: how they, and they only of the -marsupials, got away from Australia across the sea to America. Did a -family of them get set adrift on a log and float across? Or was there -once, as geologists tell us, a long string of islands close together, -stretching from the tip of South America, from the "Horn," off across -the sea to Australia, over which the 'possums might once have made -their way? But if they came by such a route, why did not the kangaroos -come too? Ah, the kangaroo is not a 'possum. There is no other -creature in the woods that would dare play "Follow the leader" with -the 'possum. No, I am half inclined to think the scientists right who -say that the 'possum is the great-great-grandfather of all the -marsupials, and that the migration might have been the other way -about--from America, across the sea. - -But what is the use of speculating? Here is the 'possum in our woods; -that we know; and yonder in Australasia are his thirteen sets of -cousins, and there they seem always to have been, for of these -thirteen sets of cousins, four sets have so long since ceased to live -that they are now among the fossils, slowly turning, every one of -them, to stone! - -A queer history he has, surely! But queerer than his history, is his -body, and the way he grows from babyhood to twenty-pound 'possumhood. - -For besides having a tail that can be used for a hand, and a paw with -a thumb like the human thumb, the female 'possum has a pocket or pouch -on her abdomen, just as the kangaroo has, in which she carries her -young. - -Now that is peculiar, so very peculiar when you study deeply into it, -that the 'possum becomes to the scientist quite the most interesting -mammal in North America. - -Returning from a Christmas vacation one year, while a student in -college, I brought back with me twenty-six live 'possums so that the -professor of zoölogy could study the peculiar anatomy of the 'possum -for several of its many meanings. - -This pouch, for instance, and the peculiar bones of the 'possum, show -that it is a very primitive mammal, one of the very oldest mammals, so -close to the beginning of the mammalian line that there are only two -other living "animals" (we can hardly call them mammals) older and -more primitive--the porcupine ant-eater, and, oldest of all, the -duck-bill, not "older" at all perhaps, but only more primitive. - -For the duck-bill, though classed as a mammal, not only has the bill -of the duck, but also lays eggs like the birds. The porcupine -ant-eater likewise lays eggs, and so seems almost as much bird or -reptile as mammal. And as the birds and reptiles lived upon the earth -before the age of mammals, and are a lower and more primitive order of -creatures, so the duck-bill, the porcupine ant-eater, and the 'possum, -because in their anatomy they are like the birds and the reptiles in -some respects, are perhaps the lowest and the oldest of all the -mammals. - -The 'possum, therefore, is one of the most primitive of mammals, and -dates as far back as the reptilian age, when only traces of mammalian -life are to be found, the 'possum's fossil ancestors being among the -notable of these early remains. - -The mammals at that time, as I have just said, were only partly -mammal, for they were partly bird or reptile, as the duck-bill and -ant-eater still are. Now the 'possum does not lay eggs as these other -two do, for its young are born, not hatched; yet so tiny and -undeveloped are they when born, that they must be put into their -mother's pouch and nursed, as eggs are put into a nest and brooded -until they are hatched--really born a second time. - -For here in their mother's pouch they are like chicks in the shell, -and quite as helpless. It is five weeks before they can stick their -heads out and take a look at the world. - -No other mammalian baby is so much of a baby and yet comes so near to -being no baby at all. It is less than an inch long when put into the -pouch, and it weighs only four grains! Four grains? Think how small -that is. For there are 7000 grains to a pound, which means that it -would take 1750 baby 'possums to weigh as much as two cups of sugar! - -"I should say he was peculiar!" I hear you exclaim; and you will agree -with an ancient History of Carolina which I have, when it declares: -"The Opoffom is the wonder of all the land animals." - -I wish you had been with me one spring day as I was stretching a -"lay-out" line across Cubby Hollow. (A lay-out line is a long -fish-line, strung with baited hooks, and reaching across the pond from -shore to shore.) I was out in the middle of the pond, lying flat on a -raft made of three cedar rails, when my dog began to bark at something -in a brier-patch on shore. - -Paddling in as fast as I could, I found the dog standing before a -large 'possum, which was backed up against a tree. I finally got Mrs. -'Possum by the tail and dropped her unhurt into my eel-pot--a -fish-trap made out of an empty nail-keg--which I had left since fall -among the bushes of the hillside. Then paddling again to the middle of -the pond, I untangled and set my hooks on the lay-out line, and came -back to shore for my 'possum. - -I didn't quite fancy pushing my hand down through the burlap cover -over the end of the keg; so I turned it upside down to spill the -'possum out,--and out she spilled and nine little 'possums with her! - -I had put in one and spilled out--ten! And this proves again that the -'possum is peculiar. Nine of these were babies that had been hidden -from me and the dog in their mother's pouch. - -Peculiar, too, was the history of one of these nine young 'possums -(the one we named "Pinky"). For after Pinky's mother choked to death -on a fish-bone, I gave all his brothers and sisters away, and devoted -myself to training Pinky up in the way he should go. And strangely -enough, when he was grown, unlike any other wild animal I had ever -tamed, he would not depart from these domesticated ways, but insisted -upon coming back home every time I took him away to the woods. Of -course he was only a few months old when I tried to turn him loose in -the woods, and that may account for his returning and squeezing -through the opening of the pump-box trough into the kitchen and going -fast asleep on the cushion of the settee; as it may also account for -his getting into a neighbor's yard by mistake on his way back one -night and drowning in the well. - -You have read of 'possum hunts;--and they are peculiar, too, as -naturally they must needs be. For you hunt 'possums with rabbit -hounds, and shoot them with a meal-sack--shoot them _into_ a meal-sack -would be more exact. And you hunt by moonlight if you really love -'possum. - -We used to start out just as the moon, climbing over the woods, fell -soft across the bare fields. The old dog would be some distance ahead, -her nose to the ground, sometimes picking up a trail in the first -cornfield, or again not until we reached the woods, or again leading -us for miles along the creek meadows among the scattered persimmon -trees, before striking a fresh scent. - -Wherever the trail started it usually led away for the woods, for some -hollow stump or tree, where the 'possum made his nest. Once in a while -I have overtaken the fat fellow in an open field or atop a fence, or -have even caught him in a hencoop; but usually, if hunting at night, -it has been a long, and not always an easy, chase, for a 'possum, in -spite of his fat and his fossil ancestors, is not stupid. Or else he -is so slow-witted that there is no telling, by man or dog, which way -he will go, or what he may do next. - -A rabbit, or a deer, or a coon, when you are on their trail, will do -certain things. You can count upon them with great certainty. But a -'possum never seems to do anything twice alike; he has no traveled -paths, no regular tricks, no set habits. He knows the road home, -but it is always a different road--a meandering, roundabout, -zigzag, criss-cross, up-and-down (up-the-trees-and-down) road, -we-won't-get-home-till-morning road, that takes in all the way -stations, from the tops of tall persimmon trees to the bottoms of all -the deep, dark holes that need looking into, along the route. - -Peculiar!--So, at least, a dog with an orderly mind and well-regulated -habits thinks, anyhow. For a 'possum trail will give a good rabbit dog -the blues; he hasn't the patience for it. Only a slow rheumatic old -hound will stick to a 'possum trail with the endurance necessary to -carry it to its end--in a hollow log, or a hollow stump, or under a -shock of corn or a rail-pile. Once the trail actually led me, after -much trouble, into a hen-house and into a stove in the hen-house, -where, upon the grate, I found three 'possums in their nest! - -It is a peculiar sport, this 'possum-hunting; yet it is mildly -exciting; and when you get your 'possum by the tail, he smiles at -you--grins, I ought to say--and has a fit. To go hunting for a -creature that smiles at you in a dreadful manner when you capture him, -that flops down in a dead faint or has a fit when you take him up by -the tail, that shows the spunk and fight of a boiled cabbage--to go -hunting for such a beast must be exciting, as exciting as going to the -store for a quart of beans. - -But here are the winter woods at night, and the wide, moonlit fields, -covered, it may be, with the glistening snow. The full, round moon -rides high overhead, the pointed corn-shocks stand silent over the -fields, the woods rise dark and shadowy beyond. Only the slow, musical -cry of the hound echoes through the stirless air, which seems to -sparkle like the snow, as if filled with gleaming frost-dust that only -the moonlight can catch and set to glancing silvery-bright. - -You don't care whether you catch a 'possum or not; you are abroad in a -world so large and silent, so crystal-clear and shining, so crisp, so -open, so acreep with shadows, so deep and mysterious in its distances, -so pure and beautiful and unblemished, that just to be abroad is -wonder enough, and you are not sorry to come back under the brilliant -midnight sky with the old dog at your heels and over your shoulder an -empty bag. - -But if your bag is heavy with fat 'possum then that, too, is good. You -have peered into his black hole; you have reached in and pulled him -out--nothing more. No roar of a gun has shattered your world of -crystal; you have killed nothing, wounded nothing--no, not even the -silence and the serenity of your soul. You and the clear, calm night -are still one. - -You have dropped a smiling 'possum into an easy, roomy bag. He feels -warm against your back. The old dog follows proud and content at your -heels. And you feel--as the wide, softly shining sky seems to feel. - -And that, too, is peculiar. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A FEBRUARY FRESHET - - -One of the very interesting events in my out-of-door year is the -February freshet. Perhaps you call it the February _thaw_. That is all -it could be called this year; and, in fact, a _thaw_ is all that it -ever is for me, nowadays, living, as I do, high and dry here, on -Mullein Hill, above a sputtering little trout brook that could not -have a freshet if it tried. - -But Maurice River could have a freshet without trying. Let the high -south winds, the high tides, and the warm spring rains come on -together, let them drive in hard for a day and a night, as I have -known them to do, and the deep, dark river goes mad! The tossing tide -sweeps over the wharves, swirls about the piles of the great bridge, -leaps foaming into the air, and up and down its long high banks beats -with all its wild might to break through into the fertile meadows -below. - -There are wider rivers, and other, more exciting things, than spring -freshets; but there were not when I was a boy. Why, Maurice River was -so wide that there was but a single boy in the town, as I remember, -who could stand at one end of the drawbridge and skim an oyster-shell -over to the opposite end! The best that I could do was to throw my -voice across and hear it echo from the long, hollow barn on the other -bank. It would seem to me to strike the barn in the middle, leap from -end to end like a creature caged, and then bound back to me faint and -frightened from across the dark tide. - -I feared the river. Oh, but I loved it, too. Its tides were always -rising or falling--going down to the Delaware Bay and on to the sea. -And in from the bay, or out to the bay, with white sails set, the big -boats were always moving. And when they had gone, out over the wide -water the gulls or the fish hawks would sail, or a great blue heron, -with wings like the fans of an old Dutch mill, would beat ponderously -across. - -I loved the river. I loved the sound of the calking-maul and the adze -in the shipyard, and the smell of the chips and tarred oakum; the -chatter of the wrens among the reeds and calamus; the pink of the -mallow and wild roses along the high mud banks; the fishy ditches with -their deep sluiceways through the bank into the river; and the vast, -vast tide-marshes that, to this day, seem to me to stretch away to the -very edge of the world. - -What a world for a boy to drive cows into every morning, and drive -them home from every night, as I used to help do! or to trap muskrats -in during the winter; to go fishing in during the summer; to go -splashing up and down in when the great February freshet came on! - -For of all the events of the year, none had such fascination for me as -the high winds and warm downpour that flooded the wharves, that drove -the men of the village out to guard the river-banks, and that drowned -out of their burrows and winter hiding-places all the wild things that -lived within reach of the spreading tide. - -The water would pour over the meadows and run far back into the swamps -and farm lands, setting everything afloat that could float--rails, -logs, branches; upon which, as chance offered, some struggling -creature would crawl, and drift away to safety. - -But not always to safety; for over the meadows the crows and fish -hawks, gulls, herons, bitterns, and at night the owls, were constantly -beating to pounce upon the helpless voyagers, even taking the -muskrats an easy prey, through their weakness from exposure and long -swimming in the water. - -There would be only two shores to this wild meadow-sea--the -river-bank, a mere line of earth drawn through the water, and the -distant shore of the upland. If the wind blew from the upland toward -the bank, then the drift would all set that way, and before long a -multitude of shipwrecked creatures would be tossed upon this narrow -breakwater, that stood, a bare three feet of clay, against the wilder -river-sea beyond. - -To walk up and down the bank then was like entering a natural history -museum where all the specimens were alive; or like going to a small -menagerie. Sparrows, finches, robins, mice, moles, voles, shrews, -snakes, turtles, squirrels, muskrats, with even a mink and an opossum -now and then, would scurry from beneath your feet or dive back into -the water as you passed along. - -And by what strange craft they sometimes came! I once saw two muskrats -and a gray squirrel floating along on the top of one of the muskrats' -houses. And again a little bob-tailed meadow mouse came rocking along -in a drifting catbird's nest which the waves had washed from its -anchorage in the rosebushes. And out on the top of some tall stake, or -up among the limbs of a tree you would see little huddled bunches of -fur, a muskrat perhaps that had never climbed before in his life, -waiting, like a sailor lashed to the rigging, to be taken off. - -But it was not the multitude of wild things--birds, beasts, -insects--that fascinated me most, that led me out along the slippery, -dangerous bank through the swirling storm; it was rather the fear and -confusion of the animals, the wild giant-spirit raging over the face -of the earth and sky, daunting and terrifying them, that drew me. - -Many of the small creatures had been wakened by the flood out of their -deep winter sleep, and, dazed and numbed and frightened, they seemed -to know nothing, to care for nothing but the touch of the solid earth -to their feet. - -All of their natural desires and instincts, their hatreds, hungers, -terrors, were sunk beneath the waters. They had lost their wits, like -human creatures in a panic, and, struggling, fighting for a foothold, -they did not notice me unless I made at them, and then only took to -the water a moment to escape the instant peril. - -The sight was strange, as if this were another planet and not our -orderly, peaceful world at all. Nor, indeed, was it; for fear cowered -everywhere, in all the things that were of the earth, as over the -earth and everything upon it raged the fury of river and sky. - -The frail mud bank trembled under the beating of the waves; the sunken -sluices strangled and shook deep down through the whirlpools sucking -at their mouths; the flocks of scattered sea-birds--ducks and -brant--veered into sight, dashed down toward the white waters or drove -over with mad speed, while the winds screamed and the sky hung black -like a torn and flapping sail. - -And I, too, would have to drop upon all fours, with the mice and -muskrats, and cling to the bank for my life, as the snarling river, -leaping at me, would plunge clear over into the meadow below. - -A winter blizzard is more deadly, but not more fearful, nor so wild -and tumultuous. For in such a storm as this the foundations of the -deep seem to be broken up, the frame of the world shaken, and you, and -the mice, and the muskrats, share alike the wild, fierce spirit and -the fear. - -To be out in such a storm, out where you can feel its full fury, as -upon a strip of bank in the midst of the churning waters, is good for -one. To experience a common peril with your fellow mortals, though -they be only mice and muskrats, is good for one; for it is to share -by so much in their humble lives, and by so much to live outside of -one's own little self. - -And then again, we are so accustomed to the order and fair weather of -our part of the globe, that we get to feel as if the universe were -being particularly managed for us; nay, that we, personally, are -managing the universe. To flatten out on a quaking ridge of earth or -be blown into the river; to hear no voice but the roar of the storm, -and to have no part or power in the mighty tumult of such a storm, -makes one feel about the size of a mouse, makes one feel how vast is -the universe, and how fearful the vortex of its warring forces! - -The shriek of those winds is still in my ears, the sting of the -driving rains still on my face, the motion of that frail mud bank, -swimming like a long sea-serpent in the swirling waters, I can still -feel to my finger-tips. And the growl of the river, the streaming -shreds of the sky, the confusion beneath and about me, the mice and -muskrats clinging with me for a foothold--I live it all again at the -first spatter of a February rain upon my face. - -To be out in a February freshet, out in a big spring break-up, is to -get a breaking up one's self, a preparation, like Nature's, for a new -lease of life--for spring. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A BREACH IN THE BANK - - -The February freshet had come. We had been expecting it, but no one -along Maurice River had ever seen so wild and warm and ominous a -spring storm as this. So sudden and complete a break-up of winter no -one could remember; nor so high a tide, so rain-thick and driving a -south wind. It had begun the night before, and now, along near noon, -the river and meadows were a tumult of white waters, with the gale so -strong that one could hardly hold his own on the drawbridge that -groaned from pier to pier in the grip of the maddened storm. - -It was into the teeth of this gale that a small boy dressed in large -yellow "oil-skins" made his slow way out along the narrow bank of the -river toward the sluices that controlled the tides of the great -meadows. - -The boy was _in_ the large yellow oil-skins; not dressed, no, for he -was simply inside of them, his feet and hands and the top of his head -having managed to work their way out. It seems, at least, that his -head was partly out, for on the top of the oil-skins sat a large black -sou'wester. And in the arms of the oil-skins lay an old army musket, -so big and long that it seemed to be walking away with the oil-skins, -as the oil-skins seemed to be walking away with the boy. - -I can feel the kick of that old musket yet, and the prick of the dried -sand-burs among which she knocked me. I can hear the rough rasping of -the chafing legs of those oil-skins too, though I was not the boy this -time inside of them. But I knew the boy who was, a real boy; and I -know that he made his careful way along the trembling river-bank out -into the sunken meadows, meadows that later on I saw the river burst -into and claim--and it still claims them, as I saw only last summer, -when after thirty years of absence I once more stood at the end of -that bank looking over a watery waste which was once the richest of -farm lands. - -Never, it seemed, had the village known such wind and rain and such a -tide. It was a strange, wild scene from the drawbridge--wharves -obliterated, river white with flying spume and tossing ice-cakes, the -great bridge swaying and shrieking in the wind, and over everything -the blur of the swirling rain. - -The little figure in yellow oil-skins was not the only one that had -gone along the bank since morning, for a party of men had carefully -inspected every foot of the bank to the last sluice, for fear that -there might be a weak spot somewhere. Let a breach occur with such a -tide as this and it could never be stopped. - -And now, somewhat past noon, the men were again upon the bank. As they -neared Five-Forks sluice, the central and largest of the water-gates, -they heard a smothered _boom_ above the scream of the wind in their -ears. They were startled; but it was only the sound of a gun somewhere -off in the meadow. It was the gun of the boy in the oil-skins. - -Late that afternoon Doctor "Sam," driving home along the flooded road -of the low back swamp, caught sight, as he came out in view of the -river, of a little figure in yellow oil-skins away out on the meadow. - -The doctor stopped his horse and hallooed. But the boy did not hear. -The rain on his coat, the wind and the river in his ears drowned every -other sound. - -The dusk was falling, and as the doctor looked out over the wild -scene, he put his hands to his mouth and called again. The yellow -figure had been blotted out by the rain. There was no response, and -the doctor drove on. - -Meanwhile the boy in the yellow oil-skins was splashing slowly back -along the narrow, slippery clay bank. He was wet, but he was warm, and -he loved the roar of the wind and the beat of the driving rain. - -As the mist and rain were fast mixing with the dusk of the twilight, -he quickened his steps. His path in places was hardly a foot wide, -covered with rose and elder bushes mostly, but bare in spots where -holes and low worn stretches had been recently built up with cubes of -the tough blue mud of the flats. - -The tide was already even with the top of the bank and was still -rising. It leaped and hit at his feet as he picked his way along. The -cakes of white ice crunched and heeled up against the bank with here -and there one flung fairly across his path. The tossing water -frequently splashed across. Twice he jumped places where the tide was -running over down into the meadows below. - -How quickly the night had come! It was dark when he reached -Five-Forks sluice--the middle point in the long, high bank. While -still some distance off he heard the sullen roar of the big sluice, -through which the swollen river was trying to force its way. - -He paused to listen a moment. He knew the peculiar voice of every one -of these gateways, as he knew every foot of the river-bank. - -There was nothing wrong with the sullen roar. But how deep and -threatening! He could _feel_ the sound even better than he could hear -it, far down below him. He started forward, to pass on, when he half -felt, through the long, regular throbbing of the sluice, a shorter, -faster, closer quiver, as of a small running stream in the bank very -near his feet. - -Dropping quickly to his knees, he laid his ear to the wet earth. A -cold, black hand seemed to seize upon him. He heard the purr of -running water! - -It must be down about three feet. He could distinctly feel it tearing -through. - -Without rising he scrambled down the meadow side of the bank to see -the size of the breach. He could hear nothing of it for the boiling at -the gates of the sluice. It was so dark he could scarcely see. But -near the bottom the mud suddenly caved beneath his feet, and a rush of -cold water caught at his knees. - -The hole was greater than he feared. - -Crawling back to the top of the bank, he leaned out over the river -side. A large cake of ice hung in water in front of him. He pushed it -aside and, bending until his face barely cleared the surface of the -river, he discovered a small sucking eddy, whose swirling hole he knew -ran into the breach. - -He edged farther out and reached down under the water and touched the -upper rim of the hole. How large might it be? Swinging round, he dug -his fingers into the bank and lowered himself feet first until he -stood in the hole. It was the size of a small bucket, but he could -almost feel it going beneath his feet, and a sudden terror took hold -upon him. - -He was only a boy, and the dark night, the wild river, the vast, -sweeping storm, the roar and tremor and tumult flattened him for a -moment to the ridge of the bank in a panic of fear! - -But he heard the water running, he felt the bank going directly -beneath where he lay, and getting to his feet he started for the -village. A single hasty step and, but for the piles of the sluice, he -would have plunged into the river. - -He must feel his way; but he never could do it in time to save the -bank. The breach must be stopped at once. He must stop it and keep it -stopped until the next patrol brought help. - -Feeling his way back, he dropped again upon his hands and knees above -the breach to think for a moment. The cake of ice hung as before in -the eddy. Catching it, he tipped it and thrust it down across the -mouth of the hole, but it slipped from his cold fingers and dived -away. He pushed down the butt of his musket, turned it flat, but it -was not broad enough to cover the opening. Then he lowered himself -again, and stood in it, wedging the musket in between his boots; but -he could feel the water still tearing through at the sides, and eating -all the faster. - -He clambered back to the top of the bank, put his hand to his mouth -and shouted. The only answer was the scream of the wind and the cry of -a brant passing overhead. - -Then the boy laughed. "Easy enough," he muttered, and, picking up the -musket, he leaned once more out over the river and thrust the steel -barrel of the gun hard into the mud just below the hole. Then, -stepping easily down, he sat squarely into the breach, the gun like a -stake in front of him sticking up between his knees. - -Then he laughed again, as he caught his breath, for he had squeezed -into the hole like a stopper into a bottle, his big oil-skins filling -the breach completely. - -The water stood above the middle of his breast, and the tide was still -rising. Darkness had now settled, but the ghostly ice-cakes, tipping, -slipping toward him, were spectral white. He had to shove them back as -now and then one rose before his face. The sky was black, and the deep -water below him was blacker. And how cold it was! - -Doctor Sam had been stopped by the flooded roads on his way home, and -lights shone in the windows as he entered the village. He turned a -little out of his way and halted in front of a small cottage near the -bridge. - -"Is Joe here?" he asked. - -"No," answered the mother; "he went down the meadow for muskrats and -has not returned yet. He's probably over with the men at the store." - -Doctor Sam drove on to the store. - -There was no boy in yellow oil-skins in the store. - -Doctor Sam picked up a lighted lantern. - -"Come on," he said; "I'm wet, but I want a look at those sluices," and -started for the river, followed immediately by the men, whom he led in -single file out along the bank. - -Swinging his lantern low, he pushed into the teeth of the gale at a -pace that left the line of lights straggling far behind. - -"What a night!" he growled. "If I had a boy of my own--" and he threw -the light as far as he could over the seething river and then down -over the flooded meadow. - -Ahead he heard the roar of Five-Forks sluice, and swung his lantern -high, as if to signal it, so like the rush of a coming train was the -sound of the waters. - -But the little engineer in yellow oil-skins could not see the signal. -He had almost ceased to watch. With his arm cramped about his gun, he -was still at his post; but the ice-cakes floated in and touched him; -the water no longer felt cold. - -On this side, then on that, out over the swollen river, down into the -tossing meadow flared the lantern as the doctor worked his way along. - -Above the great sluice he paused a moment, then bent his head to the -wind and started on, when his foot touched something soft that yielded -strangely, sending a shiver over him, and his light fell upon a bunch -of four dead muskrats lying in the path. - -Along the meadow side flashed the lantern, up and over the riverside, -and Doctor Sam, reaching quickly down, drew a limp little form in -yellow oil-skins out of the water, as the men behind him came up. - -A gurgle, a hiss, a small whirlpool sucking at the surface,--and the -tide was again tearing through the breach that the boy had filled. - -The men sprang quickly to their task, and did it well, while Doctor -Sam, shielding the limp little form from the wind, forced a vial of -something between the white lips, saying over to himself as he watched -the closed eyes open, "If I had a boy of my own--If I had a boy--" - - * * * * * - -No, Doctor Sam never had a boy of his own; but he always felt, I -think, that the boy of those yellow oil-skins was somehow pretty -nearly his. - - * * * * * - -After a long, cold winter how I love the spatter on my face of the -first February rain! The little trout brook below me foams and -sometimes overruns the road, and as its small noise ascends the hill, -I can hear--the wind on a great river, the wash of waves against a -narrow bank, and the muffled roar of quaking sluices as when a -February freshet is on. - -[Illustration: "DREW A LIMP LITTLE FORM OUT OF THE WATER"] - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS WINTER - - -I - -You should hear the three great silences of winter: the wide, sudden -silence that falls at twilight on the coming of the first winter -frost; the smothered hush that waits the breaking of a winter storm; -the crystal stillness, the speech of the stars, that pervades earth -and sky on a brilliant, stirless winter night. You should hear--or is -it _feel_?--them all. - - -II - -So should you hear the great voices of the winter: the voice of the -north wind; the voice of a pine forest; the voice of the surf on a -stormy shore. There is no music that I know like the wild mighty music -of the winter winds in the winter woods. It will often happen that you -can pass through a bare stretch of naked hardwoods immediately into a -grove of thick-limbed spruces or pines. Never miss such an -opportunity. Do not let the high winds of this winter blow on and away -without your hearing them--at least once--as they sweep through the -hardwoods on into the deep resounding pines. - - -III - -Did you ever hear the running, rumbling, reverberating sound of the -shore-to-shore split of a wide sheet of new ice? You will hear it as -the sun rises over the pond, as the tide turns in the ice-bound river, -and when the ice contracts with falling temperature,--a startling bolt -of sound, a quake, that cleaves the ice across and splits its way into -the heart of the frozen hills. - - -IV - -One of the most unnatural of all the sounds out-of-doors is the -clashing, glassy rattle of trees ice-coated and shaken by the wind. It -is as if you were in some weird china shop, where the curtains, the -very clothes of the customers, were all of broken glass. It is the -rattle of death, not of life; no, rather it is the rustle of the -ermine robe of Winter, as he passes crystal-booted down his crystal -halls. - - -V - -If winter is the season of large sounds, it is also the season of -small sounds, for it is the season of wide silence when the slightest -of stirrings can be heard. Three of these small sounds you must listen -for this winter: the smothered _tinkle-tunkle_ of water running under -thin ice, as where the brook passes a pebbly shallow; then the -_tick-tick-tick_ of the first snowflakes hitting the brown leaves on -a forest floor; then the fine sharp scratch of a curled and toothed -beech leaf skating before a noiseless breath of wind over the crusty -snow. Only he that hath ears will hear these sounds, speaking, as they -do, for the vast voiceless moments of the winter world. - - -VI - -I have not heard the "covey call" of the quail this winter. But there -is not a quail left alive in all the fields and sprout-lands within -sound of me. I used to hear them here on Mullein Hill; a covey used to -roost down the wooded hillside in front of the house; but even they -are gone--hunted out of life; shot and eaten off of my small world. -What a horribly hungry animal man is! - -But you may have the quail still in your fields. If so, then go out -toward dusk on a quiet, snowy day, especially if you have heard -shooting in the fields that day, and try to hear some one of the covey -calling the flock together: _Whir-r-rl-ee! Whir-r-rl-ee! -Whirl-ee-gee!_--the sweetest, softest, tenderest call you will ever -hear! - - -VII - -And you certainly do have chickadees in your woods. If so, then go out -any time of day, but go on a cold, bleak, blustery day, when -everything is a-shiver, and, as Uncle Remus would say, "meet up" with -a chickadee. It is worth having a winter, just to meet a chickadee in -the empty woods and hear him call--a little pin-point of live sound, -an undaunted, unnumbed voice interrupting the thick jargon of the -winter to tell you that all this bluster and blow and biting cold -can't get at the heart of a bird that must weigh, all told, with all -his winter feathers on, fully--an ounce or two! - - -VIII - -And then the partridge--you must hear him, bursting like a bottled -hurricane from the brown leaves at your feet! - - -IX - -Among the sweet winter sounds, that are as good to listen to as the -songs of the summer birds, you should hear: the loud joyous cackling -of the hens on a sunny January day; the munching of horses at night -when the wild winds are whistling about the barn; the quiet hum about -the hives,-- - - "When come the calm mild days, as still such days will come, - To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home." - -And then, the sound of the first rain on the shingles--the first -February rain after a long frozen period! How it spatters the shingles -with _spring--spring--spring!_ - -[Illustration: "ONE OF THE COVEY CALLING THE FLOCK TOGETHER"] - - -X - -It was in the latter end of December, upon a gloomy day that was heavy -with the oppression of a coming storm. In the heart of the maple swamp -all was still and cold and dead. Suddenly, as out of a tomb, I heard -the small, thin cry of a tiny tree-frog. And how small and thin it -sounded in the vast silences of that winter swamp! And yet how clear -and ringing! A thrill of life tingling out through the numb, nerveless -body of the woods that has ever since made a dead day for me -impossible. - -Have you heard him yet? - - -XI - -"After all," says some one of our writers, "it is only a matter of -which side of the tree you stand on, whether it is summer or winter." -Just so. But, after all, is it not a good thing to stand on the winter -side during the winter? to have a winter while we have it, and then -have spring? No shivering around on the spring side of the tree for -me. I will button up my coat, brace my back against the winter side -and shout to the hoary old monarch-- - - "And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, - And gie's a hand o' thine;" - -and what a grip he has! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE LAST DAY OF WINTER - - -According to the almanac March 21st is the last day of winter. The -almanac is not always to be trusted--not for hay weather, or picnic -weather, or sailing weather; but you can always trust it for March -21st weather. Whatever the weather man at Washington predicts about -it, whatever comes,--snow, sleet, slush, rain, wind, or frogs and -sunshine,--March 21st _is_ the last day of winter. - -The sun "crosses the line" that day; spring crosses with him; and I -cross over with the spring. - -Let it snow! I have had winter enough. Let the wind rage! It cannot -turn back the sun; it cannot blow away the "equinoctial line"; it -cannot snow under my determination to have done, here and now, with -winter! - -The sun crosses to my side of the Equator on the 21st of March; there -is nothing in the universe that can stop him. I cross over the line -with him; and there is nothing under the sun that can stop me. When -you want it to be spring, if you have the sun on your side of the line -you can have spring. Hitching your wagon to a star is a very great -help in getting along; but having the big sun behind you-- - - "When descends on the Atlantic - The gigantic - Storm-wind of the equinox" - -is a tremendous help in ridding you of a slow and, by this time, -wearisome winter, storm-wind and all. - -Almanacs are not much to trust in; but if ever you prize one, it is on -the 21st of March,--that is, if you chance to live in New England. Yet -you can get along without the almanac--even in New England. Hang it up -under the corner of the kitchen mantelpiece and come out with me into -the March mud. We are going to find the signs of spring, the proofs -that this is the last day of winter, that the sun is somewhere in the -heavens and on _this_ side of the equatorial line. - -Almanac or no, and with all other signs snowed under, there are still -our bones! Spring is in our bones. I cannot tell you how it gets into -them, nor describe precisely how it feels. But, then, I do not need -to. For you feel it in _your_ bones too--a light, hollow feeling, as -if your bones were birds' bones, and as if you could flap your arms -and fly! - -Only that you feel it more in your feet; and you will start and run, -like the Jungle-folk, like Mowgli--run, run, run! Oh, it is good to -have bones in your body, young bones with the "spring-running," in -their joints, instead of the grit of rheumatism to stiffen and cripple -you! - -The roads are barely thawed. The raw wind is penetrating, and we need -our greatcoats to keep out the cold. But look! A flock of -robins--twenty of them, dashing into the cedars, their brown breasts -glowing warm and red against the dull sky and the dark green of the -trees! And wait--before we go down the hill--here behind the barn--no, -there he dives from the telephone wire--Phoebe! He has just gotten -back, and is simply killing time now (and insects too), waiting for -Mrs. Phoebe to arrive, and housekeeping to begin. - -Don't move! There in the gray clouds--two soaring, circling hen-hawks! -_Kee-ee-you!_ _Kee-ee-you!_ Round and round they go, their shrill, -wild whistle piercing the four quarters of the sky and tingling down -the cold spine of every forest tree and sapling, stirring their life -blood until it seems to run red into their tops. - -For see the maple swamp off yonder--the ashy gray of the boles, a -cold steel-color two thirds of the way toward the top, but there -changing into a faint garnet, a flush of warmth and life that seems -almost to have come since morning! - -Let us go on now, for I want to get some watercress from the -brook--the first green growing thing for the table thus far!--and some -pussy-willows for the same table, only not to eat. (There are many -good things in this world that are not good to eat.) If the sun were -shining I should take you by way of the beehives to show you, dropping -down before their open doors, a few eager bees bringing home baskets -of pollen from the catkins of the hazelnut bushes. The hazelnut bushes -are in bloom! Yes, in bloom! No, the skunk-cabbages are not out yet, -nor the hepaticas, nor the arbutus; but the hazelnut bushes are in -bloom, and--see here, under the rye straw that covers the -strawberry-bed--a small spreading weed, green, and cheerily starred -with tiny white flowers! - -It is the 21st of March; the sun has crossed the line; the phoebes -have returned; and here under the straw in the garden the -chickweed,--_starwort_,--first of the flowers, is in blossom! - -But come on; I am not going back yet. This is the last day of winter. -Cold? Yes, it is cold, raw, wretched, gloomy, with snow still in the -woods, with frost still in the ground, and with not a frog or hyla -anywhere to be heard. But come along. This is the last day of -winter--of winter? No, no, it is the first day of spring. Robins back, -phoebes back, watercress for the table, chickweed in blossom, and a -bird's nest with eggs in it! Winter? Spring? Birds' eggs, did I say? - -The almanac is mixed again. It always is. Who's Who in the Seasons -when all of this is happening on the 21st of March? For here is the -bird's nest with eggs in it, just as I said. - -Watch the hole up under that stub of a limb while I tap on the trunk. -How sound asleep! But I will wake them. _Rap-rap-rap!_ There he -comes--the big barred owl! - -Climb up and take a peek at the eggs, but don't you dare to touch -them! Of course you will not. I need not have been so quick and severe -in my command; for, if we of this generation do not know as much about -some things as our fathers knew, we do at least know better than they -that the owls are among our best friends and are to be most jealously -protected. - -Climb up, I say, and take a peek at those round white eggs, and -tell me, Is it spring or winter? Is it the last day, or the first -day, or the first and last in one? What a high mix-up is the -weather--especially this New England sort! - -But look at that! A snowflake! Yes, it is beginning to snow--with the -sun crossing the line! It is beginning to snow, and down with the -first flakes, like a bit of summer sky drops a bluebird, calling -softly, sweetly, with notes that melt warm as sunshine into our -hearts. - -"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone." But see how -it snows! Yes, but see-- - - The willows gleam with silver light; - The maples crimson glow-- - The first faint streaks on winter's east, - Far-off and low. - - The northward geese, with winged wedge, - Have split the frozen skies, - And called the way for weaker wings, - Where midnight lies. - - To-day a warm wind wakes the marsh; - I hear the hylas peep - And o'er the pebbly ford, unbound, - The waters leap. - - The lambs bleat from the sheltered folds; - Low whispers spread the hills: - The rustle of the spring's soft robes - The forest fills. - - The night, ah me! fierce flies the storm - Across the dark dead wold; - The swift snow swirls; and silence falls - On stream and fold. - - All white and still lie stream and hill-- - The winter dread and drear! - Then from the skies a bluebird flies - And--spring is here! - - - - -NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS - - -CHAPTER I - -TO THE TEACHER - - "It must be a lovely place _in the summer_!" the dull and - irritating often say to me, referring to my home in the country. - What they mean is, of course, "How wretched a place the country - is in winter!" But that attitude toward winter grows less and - less common. We are learning how to enjoy the winter; and it is - my hope that this volume may distinctly contribute to the - knowledge that makes for that joy. Behind such joy is love, and - behind the love is understanding, and behind the understanding - is knowledge. - - The trouble with those who say they hate winter is a lack of - knowledge. They do not know the winter; they never tramp the - woods and fields in winter; they have no calendar of the rare, - the high-festival days of winter. - - Such a day is the one of this opening chapter--"Hunting the - Snow." And the winter is full of them; as full as the summer, I - had almost said! The possibilities of winter for nature-study, - for tramps afield, for outdoor sport--for joy and health and - knowledge and poetry are quite as good as those of summer. Try - it this winter. Indeed, let the coldest, dullest, deadest day - this winter challenge you to discover to yourself and to your - pupils some sight, some sound, some happening, or some thought - of the world outside that shall add to their small - understanding, or touch their ready imaginations, or awaken - their eager love for Nature. - - And do not let the rarer winter days pass (such as the day that - follows the first snow-fall) without your taking them or sending - them a-hunting the snow, else you will fail in duty as - grievously as you would if you allowed a child to finish his - public-school education without hearing of Bunker Hill. - - In reading this first chapter lay emphasis upon: (1) the real - excitement possible without a gun in such a hunt; (2) the - keener, higher kind of joy in watching a live animal than in - killing it; (3) the unfairness of hunting to kill; (4) the rapid - extinction of our wild animals, largely caused by guns; (5) the - necessity now for protection--for every pupil's doing all he can - to protect wild life everywhere. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Study the drawings of the tracks in this chapter, then go into - the woods and try to identify the tracks you find in the snow. - Every track you discover and identify will be quarry in your - bag--just as truly as though you had killed a deer or a moose or - a bear. You can all turn snow-hunters without leaving blood and - pain and death and emptiness and silence behind you. And it is - just as good and exciting sport. - -PAGE 4 - - _cushion-marked holes:_ Examine a cat's feet. Make a study of - cat tracks: how they are placed; how wide apart; how they look - when she walks, when she runs, when she jumps, when she gathers - herself together for a spring. You can learn the art of - snow-hunting by studying the tracks of the cat in your own - dooryards. - - _wood pussy_: a polite name in New England for the skunk. - -PAGE 5 - - _the great northern hare:_ The northern hare is not often seen - here, and I am not sure but that this may be the common brown - rabbit. - -PAGE 8 - - _slashings:_ The name for the waste limbs and tops left after - cutting forest trees. Tree wardens should compel the - woodchoppers to pile this brush up as they cut and burn it while - the snow is on the ground to prevent forest fires in summer. - - _hazelnuts_: small brown nuts like the filberts of the stores. - They grow on a bush two to six feet high. There are two - kinds,--common hazelnut and beaked hazelnut. The green husk - looks like a cap, hence its Saxon name _haesle_, a cap, and the - scientific name _Corylus_ from the Greek _corys_, a helmet. - -PAGE 9 - - _Burns:_ Robert Burns, the Scotch poet. - -PAGE 10 - - _root and all, and all in all_: from a poem by Lord Tennyson - called "Flower in the Crannied Wall." - -PAGE 11 - - _Atalanta's race:_ Look up the story of the beautiful girl - runner who lost her race with her lover because of her desire to - pick up a golden apple. - -PAGE 14 - - _Two mighty wings_: an owl's wing marks, perhaps the barred owl - or the great horned owl, or the snowy owl, which sometimes comes - down from the north in the winter. - - -CHAPTER II - -TO THE TEACHER - - This herding and driving of turkeys to market is common in other - sections of the country, particularly in Kentucky. I have told - the story (as told to me by one who saw the flock) in order to - bring out the force of instinct and habit, and the unreasoning - nature of the animal mind as compared with man's. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 15 - - _Shepherd-dog:_ Only a well-trained dog would do, for turkeys - are very timid and greatly afraid of a strange dog. - -PAGE 18 - - _Black Creek_: a local name; not in the Geography. - -PAGE 26 - - _a chorus of answering gobbles:_ Turkeys will follow their - leader. It was this habit or trait that the boys now made use - of. - - -CHAPTER III - -TO THE TEACHER - - There is a three-pronged point to this chapter: (1) the empty - birds' nests are not things to mourn over. The birds are safe - and warm down south; and they will build fresh, clean nests when - they get back. Teach your children to see things as they - are--the wholesomeness, naturalness, wisdom, and poetry of - Nature's arrangement. The poets are often sentimental; and most - sentimentality is entirely misplaced. (2) The nest abandoned by - the bird may be taken up by the mouse. The deadest, commonest of - things may prove full of life and interest upon close - observation. Summer may go; but winter comes and brings its own - interests and rewards. So does youth go and old age come. There - is nothing really abandoned in nature--nothing utterly lacking - interest. (3) A mouse is not a Bengal tiger; but he is a whole - mouse and in the _completeness_ of his life just as large and - interesting as the tiger. If the small, the common, the things - right at hand, are not interesting, it is not their fault--not - the mouse's fault--but _ours_. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 30 - - _white-foot_: the deer, or wood mouse (_Peromyscus leucopus_). - -PAGE 32 - - "_There are no birds in last year's nest_": a line from a poem - by Longfellow called "It is not always May." - -PAGE 33 - - _Darwin's book on earthworms:_ Read in this book how the worms - make garden soil. - - -CHAPTER IV - -TO THE TEACHER - - If you have at hand "The Fall of the Year," read again the - suggestions on page 112 for the chapter on "Things to See this - Fall," making use of this chapter as you did of that (1) as the - object of a field excursion--or of several excursions until all - the things suggested here have been seen; (2) as a test of the - pupil's actual study of nature; for there is scarcely a city - child who cannot get far enough into nature (though he get no - farther than the city park), and often enough to see most of the - things pointed out in this chapter; (3) as suggestions for - further study and observation by the pupils--things that they - have seen which might be added to these ten here, and written - about for composition work in English. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Here are ten different things for you to see this winter, and - most of them, whether you live in the city or country, you can - see, provided you live where the snow falls. But you will have - some kind of a winter no matter where you live. Don't miss - it--its storms, its birds, its animals, its coasting, skating, - snowshoeing, its invitations to tramp the frozen marshes and - deep swamps where you cannot go in the summer, and where, on the - snow you will catch many a glimpse of wild life that the rank - summer sedges will never reveal. Don't stop with these ten - suggestions; there are a hundred other interesting things to - see. And as you see them, write about them. - - -CHAPTER V - -TO THE TEACHER - - Let this chapter be read very close to the Christmas recess, - when your children's minds are full of Christmas thoughts. This - unconventional turn to the woods, this thought of Christmas - among the animals and birds, might easily be the means of - awakening many to an understanding of the deeper, spiritual side - of nature-study--that we find in Nature only what we take to - her; that we get back only what we give. It will be easy for - them to take the spirit of Christmas into the woods because they - are so full of it; and so it will be easy for them to feel the - woods giving it back to them--the very last and best reward of - nature-study. No, don't be afraid that they are incapable of - such lessons, of such thoughts and emotions. Some few may be; - but no teacher ever yet erred by too much faith in the capacity - of her pupils for the higher, deeper things. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 46 - - These lines of poetry you all know. But who can tell who wrote - them? Where did he live and when? - - _gum swamp:_ See description of such a swamp on pages 262-263 of - the author's "Wild Life Near Home." This is the tree known as - sour gum, more properly tupelo (_Nyssa sylvatica_ or - _uniflora_). - - _cardinal grosbeak:_ Commonly called "cardinal," or "redbird." - -PAGE 47 - - _Holy Day:_ What was the oldest form of our word "holiday"? - - _ilex:_ _Ilex verticillata_, the black alder, or winterberry, - one of the holly family. A low swamp bush covered with red - berries all winter. - -PAGE 48 - - _Lupton's Pond:_ A little pond along Cohansey Creek near - Bridgeton, N. J. - - _Persimmon trees_: found from New Haven, Conn., to Florida. - -PAGE 50 - - _Bob Cratchit's goose:_ There never was such a goose, as you all - know who have read Dickens's "Christmas Carol." - -PAGE 52 - - _liquid amber:_ The balsamic juice of the sweet gum tree, - sometimes called "bilsted" (_Liquidambar styraciflua_), a large, - beautiful swamp tree found from Connecticut to Florida and west - to Texas. - -PAGE 53 - - _half-human tracks:_ Because the coon is a relative of the bears - and has a long hind foot that leaves a track much like that of a - small baby. - -PAGE 54 - - _tupelo:_ See note on _gum swamp_, page 141. - - _sour gums_: same as tupelo. - -PAGE 55 - - _chicken or frost grapes_: _Vitis cordifolia_: the smallest, - sourest, best (boy standards) of all our wild grapes. They ripen - _after_ the frost and feed the boys and birds when all other - such fruits have gone from the woods. - - _Smooth winterberry_: is really another ilex, _Ilex lævigata_, a - larger bush than _Ilex verticillata_, the black alder or - winterberry. - -PAGE 56 - - _Fox sparrows:_ See the frontispiece. The largest, most - beautiful of our sparrows. Nests in the Far North. A migrant to - New England and the Southern States. - -PAGE 59 - - _The crows were winging over toward their great roost:_ Don't - fail this winter to spend, if not Christmas Day, then one of - your Christmas vacation days, in the woods, from morning until - the crows go over to their roost. You will never forget that - day. - - -CHAPTER VI - -TO THE TEACHER - - Read to the pupils Emerson's poem "The Titmouse," dwelling on - the lines,-- - - "Here was this atom in full breath, - Hurling defiance at vast death," etc. - - and the part beginning,-- - - "'Tis good will makes intelligence," - - letting the students learn by heart the chickadee's little - song,-- - - "Live out of doors - In the great woods, on prairie floors," etc. - - Poem and chapter ought mutually to help each other. Read the - chapter slowly, explaining clearly as you go on, making it - finally plain that this mere "atom" of life is greater than all - the winter death, no matter how "vast." - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 64 - - "_The Lilac_": My lilac bush with its suet has become a kind of - hotel, or inn, or boarding-house, for the chickadees. - -PAGE 66 - - _Phoe-ee-bee!_: more often the spring call than the winter - call of Chickadee. It is to be distinguished from the - "phoe'be" call of the phoebe, the flycatcher, by its greater - softness and purity, and by its very distinct _middle syllable_, - as if Chickadee said "Phoe'--ee--bee." Phoebe's note is - two-syllabled. - -PAGE 67 - - _protective coloration_: a favorite term with Darwin and many - later naturalists to describe the wonderful harmony in the - colors of animals, insects, etc., and their natural - surroundings, the animal's color blending so perfectly into the - color of its surroundings as to be a protection to the creature. - -PAGE 69 - - _card house_: as if made of cards, easily pushed, even blown - down. - -PAGE 70 - - _the workman's chips:_ Look on the ground under a newly - excavated woodpecker's hole, and you will find his "chips." - -PAGE 73 - - _a tiny window:_ The tough birch-bark would bend readily. I - would shut the window in leaving by means of a long, sharp - thorn. - - -CHAPTER VII - -TO THE TEACHER - - Make a point of going into the winter woods and fields, taking - the pupils as often as possible with you. It may be impossible - for your city children to get the rare chance of glare ice; but - don't miss it if it comes. - - This is the time to start your bird-study; to awaken sympathy - and responsibility in your pupils by teaching them to feed the - birds; to cultivate cheerfulness and the love of "hardness" in - them by breasting with them a bitter winter gale for the pure - joy of it. Use the suggestions here for whatever of - resourcefulness and hardiness you can cultivate in the girls as - well as in the boys. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 79 - - _the good things to read:_ To name only a few of them, we might - mention John Burroughs's "Winter Sunshine" and "Squirrels and - Other Fur-Bearers," Bradford Torrey's "Footing it in Franconia," - Frank Bolles's "At the North of Bearcamp Water," William - Hamilton Gibson's "Eye Spy," William L. Finley's "American - Birds," and Edward Breck's "Wilderness Pets." - - -CHAPTER VIII - -TO THE TEACHER - - I believe this to be one of the most important chapters in the - volume, dark and terrible as its lesson may appear. But grim, - dark death itself is not so dark as fear of the truth. If you - teach nothing else, by precept and example, teach love for the - truth--for the whole truth in nature as everywhere else. Winter - is a fact; let us face it. Death is a fact; let us face it; and - by facing it half of its terror will disappear; nay more, for - something of its deep reasonableness and meaning will begin to - appear, and we shall be no more afraid. The _all_ of this is - beyond a child, as it is beyond us; but the habit of looking - honestly and fearlessly at things must be part of a child's - education, as later on it must be the very sum of it. - - Great tact and fine feeling must be exercised if you happen to - have among the scholars one of the handicapped--one lacking any - part, as the muskrat lacked--lest the application be taken - personally. But let the lesson be driven home: the need every - boy and girl has for a strong, full-membered body,--even for - every one of his teeth,--if he is to live at his physical best. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 83 - - _incisor teeth_: the four long front teeth of the - rodents,--rats, mice, beavers, etc. These incisor teeth, are - heavily enameled with a sharp cutting edge and keep growing - continuously. - -PAGE 85 - - _voles_: meadow mice. - -PAGE 86 - - _chimney swallows_: more properly _swifts_; as these birds do - not belong to the swallow family at all. - - _vermin_: The swifts are generally infested with vermin. - -PAGE 91 - - _clapper rails_: or marsh-hens (_Rallus crepitans_). - -PAGE 92 - - "_List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle_": lines from Burns's - "A Winter Night." - - -CHAPTER IX - -TO THE TEACHER - - Make this chapter, as far as you can, the one in the volume for - most intensive study. Show the pupils how the study of animal - life is connected with geology, tell them of the record of life - in the fossils of the rocks, the kinds of strange beasts that - once inhabited the earth. Show them again how the study of - animals in their anatomy is not the study of one--say of man, - but how man and all the mammals, the reptiles, the birds, the - fishes, the insects, on and on back to the single-celled - amoeba, are all related to each other, all links in one long - wonder chain of life. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 94 - - _Charles Lamb:_ Look up his life in the Encyclopedia. Read for - yourselves his essay on Roast Pig. - - _modus edibilis_: the Latin for "manner of eating." - -PAGE 95 - - _the 'possum's relations:_ They are the marsupials, the pouched - animals, like the kangaroo. - -PAGE 98 - - _reptilian age_: one of the great geological ages or eras, known - to the geologists as the great mesozoic or "middle" epoch, when - reptiles ruled the land and sea. - -PAGE 103 - - _smiles at you--grins:_ Read the account of this habit in the - opening chapter of the author's "Wild Life Near Home." - - -CHAPTER X - -TO THE TEACHER - - This chapter and the next go together--this for the lover of - wild life, the next for the lover of adventure. The spring - freshet is one of the most interesting of the year of days for - animal study--better even than the day after the first snowfall. - But more than this, let both chapters suggest to you how - primitive and elemental the real world is after all; with what - cataclysmal forces the seasons are changed. As summer often - passes into autumn with a silencing frost that rests like a hush - of awe over the land; so winter often gives way to spring with a - rush of wind and tidal powers that seem to shake the foundations - of the world. To feel these forces, to be a part of all these - moods, to share in all these feelings--this, too, is one of the - ends of nature-study. - - -CHAPTER XII - -TO THE TEACHER - - I should like to repeat here the suggestions in "The Fall of the - Year" for this corresponding chapter. I will repeat only: "that - _you_ are the teacher, not the book. The book is but a - suggestion. You begin where it leaves off; you fill out where it - is lacking." For these are not all the sounds of winter; indeed - they may not be the characteristic sounds in your neighborhood. - No matter: the lesson is not this or that sound, but that your - pupils _learn to listen_ for sounds, for the voices of the - season, whatever those voices may be in their own particular - region. The trouble is that we have ears, and literally hear - not, eyes and see not, souls and feel not. Teach your pupils to - use their eyes, ears, yes and _hearts_, and all things else will - be added unto them in the way of education. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - I - - It is the stilling of the insects that makes for the first of - these silences; the hushing of the winds the second; the magic - touch of the cold the third. - - II - - The voice of the great spring storm should be added to these, - and the shriek of the wind about the house. - - III - - You should not only _hear_, but you should also _feel_ this - split--passing with a thrilling shock beneath your feet. - - V - - How many other of the _small_ voices do you know? The chirp of - the kinglets; the scratching of mice in a shock of corn; the---- - but you write a story about them. So listen for yourself. - - VI - - Do all you can to preserve the quail. Don't shoot. - - VIII - - Along toward spring you should hear him "drumming" for a mate--a - rapid motion of his wings much like the hollow sound of a - distant drum. - - -CHAPTER XIII - -TO THE TEACHER - - Do all that you can to teach the signs of the zodiac, the days - of the seasons, and all the doings of the astronomical year. All - that old lore of the skies is in danger of being lost. Some - readers will say: "The author is not consistent! He loves the - winter and here he is impatient to be done with it!" Some - explanation on your part may be necessary: that the call of the - spring is the call of life, a call so loud and strong that all - life--human and wild, animal and vegetable,--hears it and is - impatient to obey. If possible take your scholars upon a walk at - this raw edge of the season when they will feel the chill but - also the stirring of life all about them. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Get an almanac and study the old weather signs. - -PAGE 130 - - "_When descends on the Atlantic_": from Longfellow's "Seaweed." - -PAGE 133 - - _frog or hyla_: The hylas belong to the family _Hylidæ_ and - include our tree-toad, and our little tree-frog. - - "_For, lo, the winter is past_,": from The Song of Songs, or The - Song of Solomon, in the Bible. - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - U . S . 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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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -<p>Title: Winter</p> -<p>Author: Dallas Lore Sharp</p> -<p>Release Date: February 28, 2013 [eBook #42199]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINTER***</p> <p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> - (<a href="http://archive.org/details/americana">http://archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> <p> </p> <table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> <tr> @@ -4706,360 +4690,6 @@ U . S . 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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: Winter - - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - - - -Release Date: February 28, 2013 [eBook #42199] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINTER*** - - -E-text prepared by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 42199-h.htm or 42199-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42199/42199-h/42199-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42199/42199-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - http://archive.org/details/winterdallas00sharrich - - - - - -[Illustration: THE FOX SPARROWS' BATH (page 56)] - - -The Dallas Lore Sharp Nature Series - -WINTER - -by - -DALLAS LORE SHARP - -Author of "The Fall of the Year," "The Lay of The Land," -"The Face of the Fields," etc. - -Illustrated by Robert Bruce Horsfall - - - - - - - -Boston New York Chicago -Houghton Mifflin Company - -The Riverside Press Cambridge - -Copyright, 1905, by Doubleday, Page and Company -Copyright, 1906, by the Chapple Publishing Company -Copyright, 1910, 1911, by Perry Mason Company -Copyright, 1912, by the Golden Rule Publishing Company -Copyright, 1912, by the Century Company -Copyright, 1908, 1911, 1912, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -All Rights Reserved - - - - - TO - THE FOUR SMALL BOYS - ON MULLEIN HILL - WHO HUNT THE SNOW WITH ME - - - - -CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION ix - I. HUNTING THE SNOW 1 - II. THE TURKEY DRIVE 15 - III. WHITE-FOOT 29 - IV. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS WINTER 39 - V. CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS 46 - VI. CHICKADEE 61 - VII. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS WINTER 74 - VIII. THE MISSING TOOTH 80 - IX. THE PECULIAR 'POSSUM 94 - X. A FEBRUARY FRESHET 105 - XI. A BREACH IN THE BANK 112 - XII. A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS WINTER 123 - XIII. THE LAST DAY OF WINTER 129 - NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS 137 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - THE FOX SPARROWS' BATH _Frontispiece_ - SKUNK TRACKS 3 - CAT TRACKS 4 - TRACKS OF HARE JOINED BY DOGS 6 - "IN A BURST OF SPEED ACROSS THE OPEN FIELD" 7 - DOG TRACKS IN FOUR INCHES OF SNOW 7 - TRACKS OF THE WHITE-FOOTED MOUSE 9 - "A GRAY SQUIRREL WITH A RED SQUIRREL AT HIS HEELS" 11 - FOX TRACKS 12 - MUSKRAT TRAIL 14 - "INTO THE AIR THEY WENT" 26 - WHITE-FOOT--"IN THE WINTER GALES" 33 - "FIVE WEE MICE" 35 - WHITE-FOOT AND THE HICKORY-NUTS 38 - A VIREO'S NEST IN WINTER 40 - "WIND-SWEEPINGS" 41 - 'POSSUM IN THE PERSIMMON TREE 50 - WEASEL--"WATCHING ME FROM BETWEEN THE STICKS" 58 - "A CHICKADEE!" 62 - "DOING THE EXCAVATING THEMSELVES" 69 - FOOD FOR THE NUTHATCHES 76 - THE MOURNING-CLOAK BUTTERFLY, AN EARLY FLITTER 77 - A RUFFED GROUSE TRAIL 78 - "THE SNOW HAD MELTED FROM THE RIVER MEADOWS" 80 - "CARRYING A BIG BOB-TAILED VOLE OUT OF MY 'MOWING'" 85 - "SCURRYING THROUGH THE TOPS OF SOME PITCH PINES" 90 - "ALL THE AFTERNOON THE CROWS HAVE BEEN GOING OVER" 93 - THE DUCK-BILLED PLATYPUS, OR DUCK-BILL 97 - THE ECHIDNA, OR PORCUPINE ANT-EATER 98 - "STANDING BEFORE A LARGE 'POSSUM" 99 - "OUT SHE SPILLED AND NINE LITTLE 'POSSUMS WITH HER" 100 - "A GREAT BLUE HERON WOULD BEAT PONDEROUSLY ACROSS" 106 - MEADOW MOUSE--"IN A DRIFTING CATBIRD'S NEST" 109 - "A LITTLE FIGURE IN YELLOW OIL-SKINS" 114 - "DREW A LIMP LITTLE FORM OUT OF THE WATER" 121 - QUAIL--"ONE OF THE COVEY CALLING THE FLOCK TOGETHER" 127 - "A FLOCK OF ROBINS DASHING INTO THE CEDARS" 131 - PUSSY-WILLOWS AND WATERCRESS 132 - "THE HAZELNUT BUSHES ARE IN BLOOM" 133 - BLUEBIRD--"LIKE A BIT OF SUMMER SKY" 135 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -As in _The Fall of the Year_, so here in _Winter_, the second volume -of this series, I have tried by story and sketch and suggestion to -catch the spirit of the season. In this volume it is the large, free, -strong, fierce, wild soul of Winter which I would catch, the bitter -boreal might that, out of doors, drives all before it; that challenges -all that is wild and fierce and strong and free and large within us, -till the bounding red blood belts us like an equator, and the glow of -all the tropics blooms upon our faces and down into the inmost of our -beings. - -Winter within us means vitality and purpose and throbbing life; and -without us in our fields and woods it means widened prospect, the -storm of battle, the holiness of peace, the poetry of silence and -darkness and emptiness and death. And I have tried throughout this -volume to show that Winter is only a symbol, that death is only an -appearance, that life is everywhere, and that everywhere life -dominates even while it lies buried under the winding-sheet of the -snow. - - "A simple child, - That lightly draws its breath, - What should it know of death?" - -Why, this at least, that the winter world is not dead; that the cold -is powerless to destroy; that life flees and hides and sleeps, only -to waken again, forever stronger than death--fresher, fairer, sweeter -for its long winter rest. - -But first of all, and always, I have tried here to be a naturalist and -nature-lover, pointing out the sounds and sights, the things to do, -the places to visit, the how and why, that the children may know the -wild life of winter, and through that knowledge come to love winter -for its own sake. - -And they will love it. Winter seems to have been made especially for -children. They do not have rheumatism. Let the old people hurry off -down South, but turn the children loose in the snow. The sight of a -snowstorm affects a child as the smell of catnip affects a cat. He -wants to roll over and over and over in it. And he should roll in it; -the snow is his element as it is a polar bear cub's. - -I love the winter, and so do all children--its bare fields, empty -woods, flattened meadows, its ranging landscapes, its stirless -silences, its tumult of storms, its crystal nights with stars new cut -in the glittering sky, its challenge, defiance, and mighty wrath. I -love its wild life--its birds and animals; the shifts they make to -conquer death. And then, out of this winter watching, I love the -gentleness that comes, the sympathy, the understanding! One gets very -close to the heart of Nature through such understanding. - - DALLAS LORE SHARP. - MULLEIN HILL, March, 1912. - - - - -WINTER - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HUNTING THE SNOW - - -You want no gun, no club, no game-bag, no steel trap, no snare when -you go hunting the snow. Rubber boots or overshoes, a good, stout -stick to help you up the ridges, a pair of field-glasses and a keen -eye, are all you need for this hunt,--besides, of course, the snow and -the open country. - -You have shoveled the first snow of the winter; you have been -snowballing in it; you have coasted on it; and gone sleigh-riding over -it; but unless you have gone hunting over it you have missed the -rarest, best sport that the first snowfall can bring you. - -Of all the days to be out in the woods, the day that follows the first -snowfall is--the best? No, not the best. For there is the day in April -when you go after arbutus; and there is the day in June when the -turtles come out to lay in the sand; the muggy, cloudy day in August -when the perch are hungry for you in the creek; the hazy Indian -Summer day when the chestnuts are dropping for you in the pastures; -the keen, crisp February day when the ice spreads glassy-clear and -smooth for you over the mill-pond; the muddy, raw, half-thawed, -half-lighted, half-drowned March day when the pussy-willows are -breaking, and the first spring frogs are piping to you from the -meadow. Then there is--every day, every one of the three hundred and -sixty-five days, each of them best days to be out in the live world of -the fields and woods. - -But _one_ of the very best days to be out in the woods is the day that -follows the first winter snowfall, for that is the day when you must -shoulder a good stout stick and go gunning. Gunning with a stick? Yes, -with a stick, and rubber boots, and bird-glasses. Along with this -outfit you might take a small jointed foot-rule with which to measure -your quarry, and a notebook to carry the game home in. - -It ought to be the day after the first real snow, but not if that snow -happens to be a blizzard and lies deep in dry powdery drifts, for then -you could hardly follow a trail if you should find one. Do not try the -hunt, either, if the snow comes heavy and wet; for then the animals -will stay in their dens until the snow melts, knowing, as they do, -that the soft slushy stuff will soon disappear. The snow you need will -lie even and smooth, an inch or two deep, and will be just damp enough -to pack into tight snowballs. - -If, however, the early snows are not ideal, then wait until over an -old crusted snow there falls a fresh layer about an inch deep. This -may prove even better hunting, for by this time in the winter the -animals and birds are quite used to snow-walking, and besides, their -stores of food are now running short, compelling them to venture forth -whether or not they wish to go. - -It was early in December that our first hunting-snow came last year. -We were ready for it, waiting for it, and when the winter sun broke -over the ridge, we started the hunt at the hen-yard gate, where we saw -tracks in the thin, new snow that led us up the ridge, and along its -narrow back, to a hollow stump. Here the hunt began in earnest; for -not until that trail of close, double, nail-pointed prints went under -the stump were the four small boys convinced that we were tracking a -skunk and not a cat. - -The creature had moved leisurely--that you could tell by the closeness -of the prints. Wide-apart tracks in the snow mean hurry. Now a cat, -going as slowly as this creature went, would have put down her dainty -feet almost in a single line, and would have left round, -cushion-marked holes in the snow, not triangular, nail-pointed prints -like these. Cats do not venture into holes under stumps, either. - -We had bagged our first quarry! No, no! We had not pulled that wood -pussy out of his hole and put him into our game-bag. We did not want -to do that. We really carried no bag; and if we had, we should not -have put the wood pussy into it, for we were hunting tracks, not -animals, and "bagging our quarry" meant trailing a creature to its -den, or following its track till we had discovered something it had -done, or what its business was, and why it was out. We were on the -snow for animal _facts_, not pelts. - -We were elated with our luck, for this stump was not five minutes by -the ridge path from the hen-yard. And here, standing on the stump, we -were only sixty minutes away from Boston Common by the automobile, -driving no faster than the law allows. So we were hunting, not in a -wilderness, but just outside our dooryard and almost within the -borders of a great city. - -And that is the first interesting fact of our morning hunt. No one but -a lover of the woods and a careful walker on the snow would believe -that here in the midst of hayfields, in sight of the smoke of city -factories, so many of the original wild wood-folk still live and -travel their night paths undisturbed. - -Still, this is a rather rough bit of country, broken, ledgy, -boulder-strewn, with swamps and woody hills that alternate with small -towns and cultivated fields for many miles around. - -Here the animals are still at home, as this hole of the skunk's under -the stump proved. But there was more proof. As we topped the ridge on -the trail of the skunk, we crossed another trail, made up of bunches -of four prints,--two long and broad, two small and roundish,--spaced -about a yard apart. - -A hundred times, the winter before, we had tried that trail in the -hope of finding the form or the burrow of its maker; but it crossed -and turned and doubled, and always led us into a tangle, out of which -we never got a clue. It was the track of the great northern hare, as -we knew, and we were relieved to see the strong prints of our cunning -neighbor again; for, what with the foxes and the hunters, we were -afraid it might have fared ill with him. But here he was, with four -good legs under him; and, after bagging our skunk, we returned to pick -up the hare's trail, to try our luck once more. - -We followed his long, leisurely leaps down the ridge, out into our -mowing-field, and over to the birches below the house. Here he had -capered about in the snow, had stood up on his haunches and gnawed the -bark from off a green oak sucker two and a half feet from the ground. -This, doubtless, was pretty near his length, stretched out--an -interesting item; not exact to the inch, perhaps, but close enough for -us; for who would care to kill him in order to measure him with -scientific accuracy? - -Nor was this all; for up the footpath through the birches came the -marks of two dogs. They joined the marks of the hare. And then, back -along the edge of the woods to the bushy ridge, we saw a pretty race. - -It was all in our imaginations, all done for us by those long-flinging -footprints in the snow. But we saw it all--the white hare, the -yelling hounds, nip and tuck, in a burst of speed across the open -field which must have left a gap in the wind behind. - -It had all come as a surprise. The hounds had climbed the hill on the -scent of a fox, and had started the hare unexpectedly. Off he had gone -with a jump. But just such a jump of fear is what a hare's magnificent -legs were intended for. - -Those legs carried him a clear twelve feet in some of the longest -leaps for the ridge; and they carried him to safety, so far as we -could read the snow. In the medley of hare-and-hound tracks on the -ridge there was no sign of a tragedy. He had escaped again--but how -and where we have still to learn. - -We had bagged our hare,--yet we have him still to bag,--and taking up -the trail of one of the dogs, we continued our hunt. One of the joys -of this snow-hunting is having a definite road or trail blazed for you -by knowing, purposeful wild-animal feet. - -You do not have to blunder ahead, breaking your way into this -wilderness world, trusting luck to bring you somewhere. The wild -animal or the dog goes this way, and not that, for a reason. You are -watching that reason all along; you are pack-fellow to the hound; you -hunt with him. - -Here the hound had thrust his muzzle into a snow-capped pile of -slashings, had gone clear round the pile, then continued on his way. -But we stopped; for out of the pile, in a single, direct line, ran a -number of mouse prints, going and coming. A dozen white-footed mice -might have traveled that road since the day before, when the snow had -ceased falling. - -We entered the tiny road, for in this kind of hunting a mouse is as -good as a mink, and found ourselves descending the woods toward the -garden patch below. Halfway down we came to a great red oak, into a -hole at the base of which, as into the portal of some mighty castle, -ran the road of the mice. That was the end of it. There was not a -single straying footprint beyond the tree. - -I reached in as far as my arm would go, and drew out a fistful of -pop-corn cobs. So here was part of my scanty crop! I pushed in again, -and gathered up a bunch of chestnut shells, hickory-nuts and several -neatly rifled hazelnuts. This was story enough. There must be a family -of mice living under the slashing-pile, who for some good reason kept -their stores here in the recesses of this ancient red oak. Or was this -some squirrel's barn being pilfered by the mice, as my barn is the -year round? It was not all plain. But this question, this constant -riddle of the woods, is part of our constant joy in the woods. Life -is always new, and always strange, and always fascinating. - -It has all been studied and classified according to species. Any one -knowing the woods at all, would know that these were mouse tracks, -would even know that they were the tracks of the white-footed mouse, -and not the tracks of the jumping mouse, the house mouse, or the -meadow mouse. But what is the whole small story of these prints? What -purpose, what intention, what feeling, do they spell? What and why?--a -hundred times! - -So it is not the bare tracks that we are hunting; it is the meaning of -the tracks--where they are going, and what they are going for. Burns -saw a little mouse run across the furrows as he was plowing and wrote -a poem about it. So could we write a poem if we like Burns would stop -to think what the running of these little mice across the snow might -mean. The woods and fields, summer and winter, are full of poems that -might be written if we only knew just all that the tiny snow-prints -of a wood mouse mean, or understood just what, "root and all, and all -in all," the humblest flower is. - -The pop-corn cobs, however, we did understand; they told a plain -story; and, falling in with a gray squirrel's track not far from the -red oak, we went on, our burdenless game-bag heavier, our hearts -lighter that we, by the sweat of our brows, had contributed a few ears -of corn to the comfort of this snowy winter world. - -The squirrel's track wound up and down the hillside, wove in and out -and round and round, hitting every possible tree, as if the only road -for a squirrel was one that looped and doubled, and tied up every -stump, and zigzagged into every tree trunk in the woods. - -But all this maze was no ordinary journey. He had not run this coil of -a road for breakfast, because a squirrel, when he travels, say for -distant nuts, goes as directly as you go to your school or office; -only he goes not by streets, but by trees, never crossing more of the -open in a single rush than the space between him and the nearest tree -that will take him on his way. - -What interested us here in the woods was the fact that a second series -of tracks, just like the first, except that they were only about half -as large, dogged the larger tracks persistently, leaping tree for -tree, and landing track for track with astonishing accuracy--tracks -which, had they not been evidently those of a smaller squirrel, would -have read to us most menacingly. - -As this was the mating season for squirrels, I suggested that it might -have been a kind of Atalanta's race here in the woods. But why did so -little a squirrel want to mate with one so large? They would not look -well together, was the answer of the small boys. They thought it much -more likely that Father Squirrel had been playing wood-tag with one of -his children. - -Then, suddenly, as sometimes happens in the woods, the true meaning of -the signs was fairly hurled at us, for down the hill, squealing and -panting, rushed a full-sized gray squirrel, with a red squirrel like a -shadow, like a weasel, at his heels. - -For just an instant I thought it was a weasel, so swift and silent and -gliding were its movements, so set and cruel seemed its expression, so -sure, so inevitable, its victory. - -Whether it ever caught the gray squirrel or not, and what it would -have done had it caught the big fellow, I do not know. But I have seen -the chase often--the gray squirrel nearly exhausted with fright and -fatigue, the red squirrel hard after him. They tore round and round -us, then up over the hill, and disappeared. - -One of the rarest prints for most snow-hunters nowadays, but one of -the commonest hereabouts, is the quick, sharp track of the fox. In the -spring particularly, when my fancy young chickens are turned out to -pasture, I have spells of fearing that the fox will never be -exterminated here in this untillable but beautiful chicken country. In -the winter, however, when I see Reynard's trail across my lawn, when I -hear the music of the baying hounds and catch a glimpse of the -white-tipped brush swinging serenely in advance of the coming pack, I -cannot but admire the capable, cunning rascal, cannot but be glad for -him, and marvel at him, so resourceful, so superior to his almost -impossible conditions, his almost numberless foes. - -We started across the meadow on his trail, but found it leading so -straightaway for the ledges, and so continuously blotted out by the -passing of the pack, that, striking the wallowy path of a muskrat in -the middle of the meadow, we took up the new scent to see what the -shuffling, cowering water-rat wanted from across the snow. - -A man is known by the company he keeps, by the way he wears his hat, -by the manner of his laugh; and among the wild animals nothing tells -more of character than their manner of moving. You can read animal -character as easily in the snow as you can read act and direction. - -The timidity, the indecision, the lack of purpose, the restless, -meaningless curiosity of this muskrat were evident from the first in -the starting, stopping, returning, going-on track he had plowed out in -the thin snow. - -He did not know where he was going or what he was going for; he knew -only that he insisted upon going back, but all the while kept going -on; that he wanted to go to the right or to the left, yet kept moving -straight ahead. - -We came to a big wallow in the snow, where, in sudden fear, he had had -a fit at the thought of something that might not have happened to him -had he stayed at home. Every foot of the trail read, "He would if he -could; if he couldn't, how could he?" - -We followed him on, across a dozen other trails, for it is not every -winter night that the muskrat's feet get the better of his head, and, -willy-nilly, take him abroad. Strange and fatal weakness! He goes and -cannot stop. - -Along the stone wall of the meadow we tracked him, across the -highroad, over our garden, into the orchard, up the woody hill to the -yard, back down the hill to the orchard, out into the garden, and back -toward the orchard again; and here, on a knoll just at the edge of the -scanty, skeleton shadow where the sunlight fell through the trees, we -lost him. - -Two mighty wings, we saw, had touched the snow lightly here, and the -lumbering trail had vanished as into the air. - -Close and mysterious the shadowy silent wings hang poised indoors and -out. Laughter and tears are companions. Life begins, but death -sometimes ends the trail. Yet the sum of life, outdoors and in, is -peace, gladness, and fulfillment. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE TURKEY DRIVE - - -The situation was serious enough for the two boys. It was not a large -fortune, but it was their whole fortune, that straggled along the -slushy road in the shape of five hundred weary, hungry turkeys, which -were looking for a roosting-place. - -But there was no place where they could roost, no safe place, as the -boys well knew, for on each side of the old road stretched the forest -trees, a dangerous, and in the weakened condition of the turkeys, an -impossible roost on such a night as was coming. - -For the warm south wind had again veered to the north; the slush was -beginning to grow crusty, and a fine sifting of snow was slanting -through the open trees. Although it was still early afternoon, the -gloom of the night had already settled over the forest, and the -turkeys, with empty crops, were peevishly searching the bare trees for -a roost. - -It was a strange, slow procession that they made, here in the New -Brunswick forest--the flock of five hundred turkeys, toled forward by -a boy of eighteen, kept in line by a well-trained shepherd-dog that -raced up and down the straggling column, and urged on in the rear by -a boy of nineteen, who was followed, in his turn, by an old horse and -farm wagon, creeping along behind. - -It was growing more difficult all the time to keep the turkeys moving. -But they must not be allowed to stop until darkness should put an end -to the march. And they must not be allowed to take to the trees at -all. Some of them, indeed, were too weak to roost high; but the flock -would never move forward again if exposed in the tall trees on such a -night as this promised to be. - -The thing to do was to keep them stirring. Once allow them to halt, -give one of them time to pick out a roosting-limb for himself, and the -march would be over for that afternoon. The boys knew their flock. -This was not their first drive. They knew from experience that once a -turkey gets it into his small head to roost, he is bound to roost. -Nothing will stop him. And in this matter the flock acts as a single -bird. - -In the last village, back along the road, through which they had -passed, this very flock took a notion suddenly to go to roost, and to -go to roost on a little chapel as the vesper bells were tolling. The -bells were tolling, the worshipers were gathering, when, with a loud -gobble, one of the turkeys in the flock sailed into the air and -alighted upon the ridge-pole beside the belfry! Instantly the flock -broke ranks, ran wildly round the little building, and with a clamor -that drowned the vesper bell, came down on the chapel in a feathered -congregation that covered every shingle of the roof. Only the humor -and quick wit of the kindly old priest prevented the superstitious of -his people from going into a panic. The service had to wait until the -birds made themselves comfortable for the night--belfry, roof, -window-sills, and porch steps thick with roosting turkeys! - -The boys had come to have almost a fear of this mania for roosting, -for they never knew when it might break out or what strange turn it -might take. They knew now, as the snow and the gray dusk began to -thicken in the woods, that the flock must not go to roost. Even the -dog understood the signs,--the peevish _quint, quint, quint_, the -sudden bolting of some gobbler into the brush, the stretching necks, -the lagging steps,--and redoubled his efforts to keep the line from -halting. - -For two days the flock had been without food. Almost a week's supply -of grain, enough to carry them through to the border, had been loaded -into the wagon before starting in upon this wild, deserted road -through the Black Creek region; but the heavy, day-long snowstorm had -prevented their moving at all for one day, and had made travel so -nearly impossible since then that here they were, facing a blizzard, -with night upon them, five hundred starving turkeys straggling wearily -before them, and a two days' drive yet to go! - -The two brothers had got a short leave from college, and had started -their turkey drive in the more settled regions back from the New -Brunswick border. They had bought up the turkeys from farm to farm, -had herded them in one great flock as they drove them leisurely along, -and had moved all the while toward the state line, whence they planned -to send them through Maine for the New England market. Upon reaching -the railroad, they would rest and feed the birds, and ship them, in a -special freight-car ordered in advance, to a Boston commission house, -sell the horse and rig for what they could get, and, with their dog, -go directly back to college. - -More money than they actually possessed had gone into the daring -venture. But the drive had been more than successful until the -beginning of the Black Creek road. The year before they had gone over -the same route, which they had chosen because it was sparsely settled -and because the prices were low. This year the farmers were expecting -them; the turkeys were plentiful; and the traveling had been good -until this early snow had caught them here in the backwoods and held -them; and now, with the sudden shift of the wind again to the north, -it threatened to delay them farther, past all chance of bringing a -single turkey through alive. - -But George and Herbert Totman had not worked their way into their -junior year at college to sit down by the roadside while there was -light to travel by. They were not the kind to let their turkeys go to -roost before sundown. It was a slow and solemn procession that moved -through the woods, but it moved--toward a goal that they had set for -that day's travel. - -All day, at long intervals, as they had pushed along the deep forest -road, the muffled rumble of distant trains had come to them through -the silence; and now, although neither of them had mentioned it, they -were determined to get out somewhere near the tracks before the night -and the storm should settle down upon them. Their road, hardly more -here than a wide trail, must cross the railroad tracks, as they -remembered it, not more than two or three miles ahead. - -Leaving more and more of the desolate forest behind them with every -step, they plodded doggedly on. But there was so much of the same -desolate forest still before them! Yet yonder, and not far away, was -the narrow path of the iron track through the interminable waste; -something human--the very sight of it enough to warm and cheer them. -They would camp to-night where they could see a train go by. - -The leaden sky lowered closer upon them. The storm had not yet got -under full headway, but the fine icy flakes were flying faster, -slanting farther, and the wind was beginning to drone through the -trees. - -Without a halt, the flock moved on through the thickening storm. But -the dog was having all that he could do to keep the stragglers in -order; and George, in the rear, saw that they must stir the flock, for -the birds were gradually falling back into a thick bunch before him. - -Hurrying back to the wagon, he got two loaves of bread, and ran ahead -with them to Herbert. The famished turkeys seemed to know what he -carried, and broke into a run after him. For half a mile they kept up -the gait, as both boys, trotting along the road, dropped pieces of -bread on the snow. - -Then the whole game had to be repeated; for the greater part of the -flock, falling hopelessly behind, soon forgot what they were running -after, and began to cry, "_Quint! quint! quint!_"--the roosting-cry! -So, starting again in the rear with the bread, George carried the last -of the flock forward for another good run. - -"We should win this game," Herbert panted, "if we only had loaves -enough to make a few more touch-downs." - -"There's half an hour yet to play," was George's answer. - -"But what on?" - -"Oh, on our nerve now," the older boy replied grimly. - -"That railroad is not far ahead," said Herbert. - -"Half an hour ahead. We've got to camp by that track to-night or--" - -"Or what?" - -But George had turned to help the dog head off some runaways. - -Herbert, picking up a lump of frozen leaves and snow, began to break -this in front of the flock to tole them on. - -He had hardly started the birds again, when a long-legged gobbler -brushed past him and went swinging down the road, calling, "_Quint! -quint! quint!_" to the flock behind. The call was taken up and passed -along the now extended line, which, breaking immediately into -double-quick, went streaming after him. - -Herbert got out of the way to let them pass, too astonished for a -moment to do more than watch them go. It was the roosting-cry! An old -gobbler had given it; but as it was taking him, for once, in the right -direction, Herbert ordered back the dog that had dashed forward to -head him off, and fell in with George to help on the stragglers in the -rear. - -As the laggards were brought up to a slight rise in the road, the -flock was seen a hundred yards ahead, gathered in a dark mass about a -telegraph-pole! It could be nothing else, for through the whirling -snow the big cross-arms stood out, dim but unmistakable. - -It was this that the gobbler had spied and started for, this sawed and -squared piece of timber, that had suggested a barnyard to him,--corn -and roost,--as to the boys it meant a human presence in the forest -and something like human companionship. - -It was after four o'clock now, and the night was hard upon them. The -wind was strengthening every minute; the snow was coming finer and -swifter. The boys' worst fears about the storm were beginning to be -realized. - -But the sight of the railroad track heartened them. The strong-armed -poles, with their humming wires, reached out hands of hope to them; -and getting among the turkeys, they began to hurry them off the track -and down the steep embankment, which fortunately offered them here -some slight protection from the wind. But as fast as they pushed the -birds off, the one-minded things came back on the track. The whole -flock, meanwhile, was scattering up and down the iron rails and -settling calmly down upon them for the night. - -They were going to roost upon the track! The railroad bank shelved -down to the woods on each side, and along its whitened peak lay the -two black rails like ridge-poles along the length of a long roof. In -the thick half-light of the whirling snow, the turkeys seemed suddenly -to find themselves at home: and as close together as they could crowd, -with their breasts all to the storm, they arranged themselves in two -long lines upon the steel rails. - -And nothing could move them! As fast as one was tossed down the bank, -up he came. Starting down the lines, the boys pushed and shoved to -clear the track; but the lines re-formed behind them quickly, evenly, -and almost without a sound. As well try to sweep back the waves of the -sea! They worked together to collect a small band of the birds and -drive them into the edge of the woods; but every time the band -dwindled to a single turkey that dodged between their legs toward its -place on the roost. The two boys could have kept _two_ turkeys off the -rails, but not five hundred. - -"The game is up, George," said Herbert, as the sickening thought of a -passing train swept over him. - -The words were hardly uttered when there came the _tankle, tankle_ of -the big cow-bell hanging from the collar of the horse, that was just -now coming up to the crossing! - -George caught his breath and started over to stop the horse, when, -above the loud hum of the wires and the sound of the wind in the -forest trees, they heard through the storm the muffled whistle of a -locomotive. - -"Quick! The horse, Herbert! Hitch him to a tree and come!" called -George, as he dived into the wagon and pulled out their lantern. -"Those birds could wreck the train!" he shouted, and hurried forward -along the track with his lighted lantern in his hand. - -It was not the thought of the turkeys, but the thought of the people -on the flying Montreal express,--if that it was,--that sped him up -the track. In his imagination he saw the wreck of a ditched train -below him; the moans of a hundred mangled beings he heard sounding in -his ears! - -On into the teeth of the blinding storm he raced, while he strained -his eyes for a glimpse of the coming train. - -The track seemed to lie straightaway in front of him, and he bent his -head for a moment before the wind, when, out of the smother of the -snow, the flaring headlight leaped almost upon him. - -He sprang aside, stumbled, and pitched headlong down the bank, as the -engine of a freight, with a roar that dazed him, swept past. - -But the engineer had seen him, and there was a screaming of iron -brakes, a crashing of cars together, and a long-drawn shrieking of -wheels, as the heavy train slid along the slippery rails to a stop. - -As the engineer swung down from his cab, he was met, to his great -astonishment, by a dozen turkeys clambering up the embankment toward -him. He had plowed his way well among the roosting flock and brushed -them unhurt from the rails as the engine skidded along to its slow -stop. - -By this time the conductor and the train-hands had run forward to see -what it all meant, and stood looking at the strange obstruction on the -track, when Herbert came into the glare of the headlight and joined -them. Then George came panting up, and the boys tried to explain the -situation. But their explanation only made a case of sheer negligence -out of what at first had seemed a mystery to the trainmen. Both the -engineer and the conductor were anxious and surly. Their train was -already an hour late; there was a through express behind, and the -track must be cleared at once. - -And they fell at once to clearing it--conductor, fireman, brakemen, -and the two boys. Those railroad men had never tried to clear a track -of roosting turkeys before. They cleared it,--a little of it,--but it -would not stay cleared, for the turkeys slipped through their hands, -squeezed between their legs, ducked about their heels, and got back -into place. Finally the conductor, putting two men in line on each -rail, ordered the engineer to follow slowly, close upon their heels, -with the train, as they scattered the birds before them. - -The boys had not once thought of themselves. They had had no time to -think of anything but the danger and the delay that they had caused. -They helped with all their might to get the train through, and as they -worked, silently listened to the repeated threats of the conductor. - -At last, with a muttered something, the conductor kicked one of the -turkeys into a fluttering heap beneath the engine, and, turning, -commanded his crew to stand aside and let the engineer finish the rest -of the flock. - -The men got away from the track. Then, catching Herbert by the arm, -George pointed along the train, and bending, made a tossing motion -toward the top of the cars. - -"Quick!" he whispered. "One on every car!" and stepping calmly back in -front of the engine, he went down the opposite side of the long train. - -As he passed the tender, he seized a big gobbler, and sent him with a -wild throw up to the top of a low coal-car, just as Herbert, on his -side, sent another fluttering up to the same perch. Both birds landed -with a flap and a gobble that were heard by the other turkeys up and -down the length of the train. - -Instantly came a chorus of answering gobbles as every turkey along the -track saw, in the failing light, that real, buildings--farmyard -buildings--were here to roost on! And into the air they went, helped -all along the train by the two boys, who were tossing them into the -cars, or upon the loads of lumber, as fast as they could pass from car -to car. - -Luckily, the rails were sleety, and the mighty driving-wheels, -spinning on the ice with their long load, which seemed to freeze -continually to the track, made headway so slowly that the whole flock -had come to roost upon the cars before the train was fairly moving. - -Conductor and brakeman, hurrying back to board the caboose, were -midway of the train before they noticed what was happening. _How_ it -was happening they did not see at all, so hidden were the movements of -the two boys in the swirl of the blinding snow. - -For just an instant the conductor checked himself. But it was too late -to do anything. The train was moving, and he must keep it moving as -fast as he could to the freight-yards ahead at the junction--the very -yards where, even now, an empty car was waiting for the overdue -turkeys. - -As he ran on down the track and swung aboard the caboose, two other -figures closed in behind the train. One of them, seizing the other by -the arm, landed him safe upon the steps, and then shouted at him -through the storm:-- - -"Certainly you shall! I'm safe enough! I'll drive on to that old -sawmill to-night. Feed 'em in the morning and wait for me! Good-by," -and as the wind carried his voice away, George Totman found himself -staring after a ghost-white car that had vanished in the storm. - -He was alone; but the thought of the great flock speeding on to the -town ahead was company enough. Besides, he had too much to do, and to -do quickly, to think of himself; for the snow was blocking his road, -and the cold was getting at him. But how the wires overhead sang to -him! How the sounding forest sang to him as he went back to give the -horse a snatch of supper! - -He was soon on the road, where the wind at his back and the tall trees -gave him protection. The four-wheeled wagon pulled hard through the -piling snow, but the horse had had an easy day, and George kept him -going until, toward eight o'clock, he drew up behind a lofty pile of -slabs and sawdust at the old mill. - -A wilder storm never filled the resounding forests of the North. The -old mill was far from being proof against the fine, icy snow; but when -George rolled himself in his heavy blanket and lay down beside his -dog, it was to go to sleep to the comfortable munching of the horse, -and with the thought that Herbert and the turkeys were safe. - -And they were safe. It was late in the afternoon the next day when -George, having left the wagon at the mill, came floundering behind the -horse through the unbroken road into the streets of the junction, to -find Herbert anxiously waiting for him, and the turkeys, with full -crops, trying hard to go to roost inside their double-decked car. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -WHITE-FOOT - - -The December rain was falling down, down, down, as if the drops were -lead instead of water. The December sky, if you could call it sky, had -settled down, down, down, as if it too were of lead, and were being -propped up only by the tops of the stiff bare trees. - -A green stick in the fireplace behind me sizzled and sputtered and -blew its small steam whistles to warn me away from the window,--from -the sight of the naked trees, and the cold, thick fog upon the meadow, -and the blur of the pine woods beyond, and the rain falling down, -down, down. - -A dreary world out of doors surely, with not a sign of life! The pine -tree, rising up above the hillside in front of the window, was green, -but only a few lifeless leaves rattled among the middle branches of -the oaks, while up in the stark top of a hickory sapling was wedged a -robin's nest, deserted and wet and going to pieces. - -I shivered, in spite of the hearth-fire behind me, for the face of the -gray gloom pressed close up against the window outside. And the empty -robin's nest, already a ruin! its mud walls broken, its tiny timbers -hanging loose in the rain! - -But what a large nest for a robin, I thought; and how strangely peaked -and pointed it is, like a little haycock! Then all at once, inside of -me, and all over me, I felt a warm, delightful feeling. - -"It isn't possible," said I aloud, but all to myself; "it isn't -possible that little White-Foot has moved into that old robin's nest -and fitted it up with a peaked roof for the winter?" - -And the thought of it started the warm, delightful feeling again -inside of me and all over me; and snatching up the tongs by the -fireplace I ran out into the December rain and tapped a few times on -the slender hickory sapling. - -And what do you think happened? - -It stopped raining? - -No. - -You broke your tongs? - -No. - -The nest fell out and hit you on the head? - -No. - -You ran back into the house again out of the rain? - -Yes, I did, and I went straight to the window and looked out again at -the robin's nest,--my deserted, ruined robin's nest, with its thick -thatch of waterproof cedar bark, with its little round door-hole in -the side, with its soft furry bed, all toasty warm, out of which with -my tapping tongs I had just roused White-Foot and brought him -sleepy-eyed to look down at me from his door. - -The rain continued to fall down; but my spirits went up, and up, at -the thought of that little mouse all safe and warm for the winter in -Robin's deserted nest. - -And so, if "there are no birds in last year's nest," as mourns a -doleful poem, you need not be sad on that account, for if you look -closely, you may find, now and then, a mouse in last year's nest--and -who will say that finding a mouse in a bird's nest is not almost as -interesting as finding a bird there? - -A robin's nest in the winter-time would be the wettest, muddiest, -coldest place in the world for a robin; but a mouse can take that old -robin's nest and turn it into a snuggery (if you know what a -"snuggery" is) so cozy and warm that neither the tip of Mr. Mouse's -sharp nose, nor the tip of his thin ears, nor the tippy-tip of his -long bare tail ever feels one sharp nip of the cold outside. - -So, if there are no birds in last year's nest (as surely there ought -not to be), take your tongs and tap, or, better, climb up, and reach -gently into the nest with your finger, for a mouse may be waiting -inside to bite you,--and that would be interesting. - -For a mouse is interesting--just as interesting in his mousy ways as a -whale in his whalish ways, or a robin in his ways. Can you name -anything that does not grow interesting as soon as you begin to watch -and study it? Large things, small things, Bengal tigers or -earthworms--all things will surprise and interest you if you will -study them for a season. - -I have a friend, for instance, who has shot more tigers, in more -lands, than any other living man; who knows more about tiger habits -and the tempers of the dangerous beasts than any other man; and who, -as I am writing this, is himself writing a book which is to be called -"Tiger Lands." That will be an exciting book, no doubt, for he has had -adventures that made my hair stand up on my head, just to hear about. -Yet I very much doubt if that book, with all its man-eaters, will be -any more interesting or any more valuable to us than Darwin's book on -earthworms. - -So am I going to sigh because there are no birds in last year's nests? -Had the poem said, "there are no _mice_ in last year's nests," that -might have made me sad, perhaps; though I am sure that I could go into -the woods almost any winter day and find plenty of old _stumps_ with -mice in them. And I am equally sure that there will be plenty of birds -in next summer's nests; so, until the robins come back and build new -nests, I am going to look out of the window these dark December days, -and think of White-Foot in Robin's old nest, high up there in the -slender sapling, where no cat can climb to him, and where no crow -will dare come to tear his house to pieces. - -[Illustration: "THERE HE WILL SWING IN THE WINTER GALES"] - -There he will swing in the winter gales with the snow swirling around -and beneath him; there he will dream through the rain and the slanting -sleet when his high sapling stairway is coated with ice and impossible -for him to climb; there he will live, and whenever I thump with the -tongs at his outer gate, up there in the little round doorway will -appear his head--his eyes, I should say, for he looks all eyes up -there, so large, so black, so innocent, so inquiring are they, so near -to rolling off down the tip of his nose with sheer surprise. - -I shall have many a cheering glimpse of White-Foot, many a comforting -thought of him, out there, his thatch snow-covered, his thick-walled -nest in the slender hickory riding the winter seas that sweep the -hilltop, as safe as the ships anchored yonder in the landlocked -harbor; and he will be much more comforting to me out there than here -in the house with me; for, strangely enough, while White-Foot never -seems to join the common mice in the barn, never a winter goes by -without one or more of his kind coming into the house for the cold -weather. - -This would be very pleasant if they could keep out of the pop-corn and -the nuts and the apples and the linen-drawers. But only recently one -got into the linen in the china-closet, and _chewed together_ the -loveliest damask nest that any being ever slept in. - -There was nothing for such conduct, then, of course, except to kill -her. But I did not kill her, though I take no credit to myself, for I -tried to kill her, as any one would have been tempted to do. - -I got her out of that linen-drawer in a hurry and chased her from -cupboard to couch, to radiator and bookcase, and lost her. The next -day I resumed the chase, and upset most of the furniture before she -finally gave me the slip. The next day she appeared, and once more we -turned things upside down, and once more from some safe corner she -watched me put the chairs back on their legs and pick up the pieces of -things. - -But the next morning, as I opened the grate of the kitchen stove to -light the fire, there in the ash-pan huddled that little mouse; and -under her in a bed of ashes, as if to reproach me forever, were five -wee mice, just born, blind and naked in the choking dust, babes that -should have been sleeping covered in a bed of downy damask in the -linen-drawer. - -I said I did not kill her. No, I reached in slowly, lifted her and her -babes out softly in my hand, carried them into a safe, warm place and -left them, devoutly hoping that they might all grow up to help -themselves, if need be, to an ear of pop-corn, or even to a cozy -corner and a sip of honey in the beehives. - -No, I don't believe I hoped all of that, for White-Foot is exceedingly -fond of honey, and no roof in all the out-of-doors is so much to his -liking as a beehive, warm with the heat of the clustered swarm; and -nowhere can he make such a nuisance of himself as inside the hive. - -A robin's nest, a beehive, a linen-drawer, a woodpecker's hole--almost -any place will do for the winter home, so thick and warm can the mice -build their walls, so many bins of acorns and grain do they lay up, -and so bold are they to forage when their winter stores run low. - -I had a curious experience with a white-footed mouse in the cellar one -winter. The small boys had carried into the cellar (to hide them from -me, I imagine) about four quarts of chestnuts which they had gathered. -A little later, when they went to get their nuts, the box was empty. -Not a chestnut left! - -"Have you eaten all our chestnuts, father?" - -"No, I haven't--not a nut," I answered. - -"Well, they are all gone!" was the wail. - -And so they were, but how, and where, we did not know. House mice had -not eaten them, for no shells were left behind; there were no rats or -squirrels in the cellar that fall; and as for one of the small -boys--that was past thought. The fact is, more suspicion was attached -to me in the case than anything in my previous conduct called for; -and, though altogether guiltless, I continued to be uncomfortably -quizzed from time to time about those chestnuts, until I began to -wonder if I _had_ got up in my sleep and devoured the four quarts, -shells and all. - -Then one day, while we were putting things shipshape in the vegetable -cellar, what did we come upon but a nice little pile of chestnuts -hidden away in a dark corner; then we discovered another pile, laid up -carefully, neatly, in a secret spot, where no human eye--except the -human house-cleaning eye, that misses nothing--would ever have seen -them, and where no big human hand would ever have put them. - -I was allowed to go then and there scot-free; and a trap was set for -the wood mouse. It was White-Foot, we knew. But we never caught her. -And I am glad of it, for after we took away what chestnuts we could -find, she evidently felt it necessary to make a new hoard, and began -with a handful of old hickory-nuts, shagbarks, that had been left in -the vegetable cellar beside the box of chestnuts. - -Now, however, she felt the insecurity of the inner cellar, or else she -had found a fine big bin out in the furnace cellar, for out there by -the furnace she took those nuts and tucked them compactly away into -the toe of one of my tall hunting-boots. - -There were double doors and a brick partition wall between the two -cellars. No matter. Here were the nuts she had not yet stored; and out -yonder was the hole, smooth and deep and dark, to store them in. She -found a way past the partition wall. - -Every morning I shook those nuts out of my boot and sent them rattling -over the cellar floor. Every night the mouse gathered them up and put -them snugly back into the toe of the boot. She could not have carried -more than one nut at a time--up the tall boot-leg and down the oily, -slippery inside. - -I should have liked to see her scurrying about the cellar, looking -after her curiously difficult harvest. Apparently, they were new nuts -to her every evening. Once I came down to find them lying untouched. -The mouse, perhaps, was away over night on other business. But the -following morning they were all gathered and nicely packed in the boot -as before. And as before I sent them sixty ways among the barrels and -boxes of the furnace room. - -But I did it once too often, for it dawned upon the mouse one night -that these were the same old nuts that she had gathered now a dozen -times. That night they disappeared. Where? I wondered. - -Weeks passed, and I had entirely forgotten about the nuts, when I came -upon them, the identical nuts of my boot, tiered carefully up in a -corner of the deep, empty water-tank away off in the attic! - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO SEE THIS WINTER - - -I - -The first snowstorm! I would not miss seeing the first snowstorm, not -if I had to climb up to my high, tarry, smoky roof in the city and lie -down on my back, as I once did, in order to shut out everything but -the gray wavering flakes that came scattering from the sky. But how -marvelously white and airy they looked, too, coming down over the -blackened city of roofs, transfiguring it with their floating veil of -purity! You must see the first snowfall, and, if you want to, jump and -caper with the flakes, as I always do. - - -II - -The sorrows of winter are its storms. They are its greatest glories -also. One should no more miss the sight of the winter storms than he -should miss the sight of the winter birds and stars, the winter suns -and moons! A storm in summer is only an incident; in winter it is an -event, a part of the main design. Nature gives herself over by the -month to the planning and bringing off of the winter storms--vast -arctic shows, the dreams of her wildest moods, the work of her -mightiest minions. Do not miss the soft feathery fall that plumes the -trees and that roofs the sheds with Carrara marble; the howling -blizzard with its fine cutting blast that whirls into smoking crests; -the ice-storm that comes as slow, soft rain to freeze as it falls, -turning all the world to crystal: these are some of the miracles of -winter that you must not fail to see. - - -III - -You must see how close you had passed to and fro all summer to the -vireo's nest, hanging from the fork on a branch of some low bush or -tree, so near to the path that it almost brushed your hat. Yet you -never saw it! Go on and make a study of the empty nests; see -particularly how many of them were built out along the roads or -paths, as if the builders wished to be near their human neighbors--as, -indeed, I believe they do. Study how the different birds -build--materials, shapes, finish, supports; for winter is the better -season in which to make such study, the summer being so crowded with -interests of its own. - - -IV - -When the snow hardens, especially after a strong wind, go out to see -what you can find in the wind furrows of the snow--in the holes, -hollows, pockets, and in footprints in the snow. Nothing? Look again, -closely--that dust--wind-sweepings--seeds! Yes, seeds. Gather several -small boxes of them and when you return home take a small magnifying -glass and make them out--the sticktights, gray birches, yellow -birches, pines, ragweeds, milfoil--I cannot number them! It is a -lesson in the way the winds and the snows help to plant the earth. -Last winter I followed for some distance the deep frozen tracks of a -fox, picking out the various seeds that had drifted into every -footprint, just so far apart, as if planted in the snow by some modern -planting-machine. It was very interesting. - - -V - -When the snow lies five or six inches deep, walk out along the -fence-rows, roadsides, and old fields to see the juncos, the sparrows, -and goldfinches feeding upon the seeds of the dead weeds standing -stiff and brown above the snow. Does the sight mean anything to you? -What does it mean? - - -VI - -Burns has a fine poem beginning-- - - "When biting Boreas, fell and doure, - Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r," - -in which, he asks,-- - - "Ilk happing bird--wee, helpless thing!-- - - * * * * * - - What comes o' thee? - Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, - An' close thy e'e?" - -Did you ever ask yourself the question? Go forth, then, as the dusk -begins to fall one of these chill winter days and try to see "what -comes o'" the birds, where they sleep these winter nights. You will -find an account of my own watching in a chapter called "Birds' Winter -Beds" in "Wild Life Near Home." - - -VII - -You will come back from your watching in the dusk with the feeling -that a winter night for the birds is unspeakably dreary, perilous, and -chill. You will close the door on the darkness outside with a shiver -as much from dread as from the cold. - - "List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle,"-- - -you will think of the partridge beneath the snow, the crow in his -swaying pine-top, the kinglet in the close-armed cedar, the wild duck -riding out the storm in his freezing water-hole, and you will be glad -for your four thick walls and downy blankets, and you will wonder how -any creature can live through the long, long night of cold and dark -and storm. But there is another view of this same picture; another -picture, rather, of this same stormy, bitter night which you must not -miss seeing. Go out to see how the animals sleep, what beds they have, -what covers to keep off the cold: the mice in the corn-shocks; the -muskrats in their thick mud homes; the red squirrels in their rocking, -wind-swung beds, so soft with cedar bark and so warm that never a -tooth of the cold can bite through! - - "I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer - Shook off the pouthery snaw, - And hail'd the morning with a cheer, - A cottage-rousing craw." - - -VIII - -This winter I have had two letters asking me how best to study the -mosses and lichens, and I answered, "Begin now." Winter, when the -leaves are off, the ground bare, the birds and flowers gone, and all -is reduced to singleness and simplicity--winter is the time to observe -the shapes, colors, varieties, and growth of the lichens. Not that -every lover of nature needs to know the long Latin names (and many of -these lesser plants have no other names), but that every lover of the -out-of-doors should notice them--the part they play in the color of -things, the place they hold in the scheme of things, their exquisite -shapes and strange habits. - - -IX - -You should see the brook, "bordered with sparkling frost-work ... as -gay as with its fringe of summer flowers." You should examine under a -microscope the wonderful crystal form of the snow-flakes--each flake -shaped by an infinitely accurate hand according to a pattern that -seems the perfection, the very poetry, of mechanical drawing. - - -X - -What a world of gray days, waste lands, bare woods, and frozen waters -there is to see! And you should see them--gray and bare and waste and -frozen. But what is a frozen pond for if not to be skated on? and -waste white lands, but to go sleighing over? and cold gray days, but -so many opportunities to stay indoors with your good books? - -See the winter bleak and cheerless as at times you will, and as at -times you ought; still if you will look twice, and think as you look, -you will see the fishermen on the ponds catching pickerel through the -ice--life swimming there under the frozen surface! You will see the -bare empty woodland fresh budded to the tip of each tiny twig--life -all over the trees thrust forward to catch the touch of spring! You -will see the wide flinty fields thick sown with seeds--life, more life -than the sun and the soil can feed, sleeping there under "the tender, -sculpturesque, immaculate, warming, fertilizing snow"! - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS - - "'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house - Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." - - -But on the night before this particular Christmas every creature of -the woods that could stir was up and stirring; for over the old snow -was falling swiftly, silently, a soft, fresh covering that might mean -a hungry Christmas unless the dinner were had before morning. - -Yet, when the morning dawned, a cheery Christmas sun broke across the -great gum swamp, lighting the snowy boles and soft-piled limbs of the -giant trees with indescribable glory, and pouring, a golden flood, -into the deep, spongy bottom of the swamp below. It would be a perfect -Christmas in the woods, clear, mild, stirless, with silent footing for -me, and everywhere the telltale snow. - -And everywhere in the woods would be the Christmas spirit, too. As I -paused among the pointed cedars of the pasture, looking down into the -tangle at the head of the swamp, a clear, wild whistle rang in the -thicket, followed by a flash through the alders like a tongue of fire, -as a cardinal grosbeak shot down to the tangle of greenbrier and -magnolia under the slope of the hill. The bird was a fleck of flaming -summer. As warm as summer, too, were the pointed cones of stag-horn -sumac burning on the crest of the ridge against the group of holly -trees--trees as fresh as April, and all aglow with red berries. - -The woods were decorated for the Holy Day. The gentleness of the soft, -new snow touched everything; cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded -sky and warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and blazed in the -crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and the alder. The Christmas woods -were glad. The heart of the woods was full of Christmas peace. - -Now I did not imagine all of this as I went along. Perhaps there was -the spirit of Christmas in my heart, and so I found the spirit of -Christmas in the woods; but so it must have been with the household I -had just left, back on the city street. Every one had Christmas in his -heart, and so every one found Christmas in the Christmas-tree blazing -and glittering in its candle-flame blossoms and jeweled fruit. - -So there was real Christmas joy and peace--a real Christmas -spirit--abroad in the woods this snowy Christmas morning. The sky had -it, the trees had it, the soft white slopes had it, the softly flowing -creek had it, flowing softly toward the bay. - -But doubtless my own feelings had something to do with it all. This -was Christmas Day, and these were my home woods, the woods where I -tramped and trapped and "grew up" when a boy; and this was I, after -twenty years of absence, I, the boy again, back in the old familiar -pasture on my way to Lupton's Pond! - -Yes, I must say that I was almost afraid as I followed the old -cow-path across the pasture, now only a slightly sunken line in the -snow; I was afraid that the path might be gone. Twenty years are a -good many years for a cow-path to last. But evidently the cows had -been crossing every year since I had been away; and not a single new -crook had they worn in the old winding trail. Then I was afraid, as I -came to the fence where I could look down upon the pond, lest the pond -might have disappeared. But no, there it lay, sealed over, as if kept -for me by the snow! Then I looked fearfully over the pond, over the -steep ridge on the opposite shore to where there used to stand two -particular persimmon trees. - -My heart beat wildly for a moment. The woods up the ridge had been cut -off! Things had changed! I was confused and looked this way and that, -when, so near to me that I could scarcely believe my eyes, I saw the -twin trees, their hard, angular limbs closely globed with fruit, and -standing softly out against the sky! - -It was enough. Forgetting the twenty years, I hurried down across the -pond and up to the persimmon trees on the other side--up _into_ the -trees indeed, for I never stopped until I had climbed clear up into -the top among the ripe persimmons! - -Do you know what a persimmon, picked from a particular tree along -Cohansey Creek on Christmas Day, tastes like? especially when you have -not had a taste of persimmon for twenty years? No, you do not--because -you are not twenty years old, perhaps, and because you were not a boy -along Cohansey Creek, perhaps, and because, if you were, you did not -know those two particular persimmon trees, maybe. - -Nobody ever seemed to know the perfection of those persimmons, except -myself and the 'possums. Not one of the Luptons, who owned the -pasture, the pond, and the trees, had ever been a boy, so far as I -could remember, and certainly not one of them had ever tasted the -fruit of those two trees. There were other persimmon trees up and down -the township, others here along the pond; but these two were the only -trees to hold their fruit until Christmas, preserved with such -richness of flavor, such a gummy, candied, wild, woodsy quality, that -it could not decay. Those persimmons never decayed. They candied, -evaporated, wrinkled, fell, and vanished away. - -Or else the 'possums ate them--those that I did not eat. A 'possum had -already been here this Christmas morning before me. I had noted his -fresh tracks beneath the tree when I came up; and now, in the tree, I -saw where the snow had been brushed from several of the large limbs as -the 'possum had moved about in the top, eating his Christmas dinner. - -You never ate a Christmas dinner high up in the top of a persimmon -tree? But you will, perhaps, some day, as good a Christmas dinner, I -hope, as ours was. For such persimmons! Bob Cratchit's goose ("There -never was such a goose!") could not have been any better flavored. Nor -could the little Cratchits have been any hungrier for goose than I was -for persimmons. - -Now the 'possum had been having persimmons every night since the -frosts of October; so of course he felt no such hunger for persimmons -as I felt. But ripe persimmons would be a Christmas dinner for a -'possum every day in the year. There is nothing so unspeakably good as -persimmons if you happen to be a 'possum, or if you happen to be a -boy--even after twenty years! - -So the 'possum and I had our Christmas dinner together at Nature's -invitation, in the top of the persimmon tree. The 'possum, to be -sure, had eaten and gone before I came. But that is good form in the -woods. He was expecting me, so he came early, just before dawn, that -neither of us might be embarrassed, leaving his greetings for me in -sign-language in the snow. - -A Christmas dinner all alone would be cold cheer indeed. But I was not -alone. Here was good company and plenty of it. Did not the tracks talk -to me? With abundance of fruit still left in the tree, did I need to -see that 'possum fold up his napkin, pull down his vest, spread his -hands over his expansive person and groan in the fullness of his -feast? No; all of that was printed plainly in the snow. Why, I could -even hear his groans in his tumbled tracks at the foot of the tree, -where the fat old fellow had literally fallen over himself! What an -appetite! What a pudding of persimmons he must be! He can hardly walk -for fat! Look at his trail in the snow leading down toward the pond--a -big wide wallow where he has bounced along! - -So I slide down the tree and take up the 'possum's trail. We have -broken bread together, this 'possum and I, and now we will enter the -woods together in the same good-fellowship for the rest of the day. -Persimmons and good-will are very proper things to be filled with when -you go into the Christmas woods. - -And there is no better fellowship for such a tramp than the trail of -some animal like the possum or the mink or the fox. To go in with one -of these through the woods-door is to find yourself at home. Any one -can manage to get inside the woods, as the grocery boy or the census -man manages to get inside our houses. You can bolt in at any time on -business. But a _trail_, remember, is Nature's invitation. Go softly -in with possum, or rabbit, or coon, and at the threshold of the trees -you will be met by the Spirit of the Woods--you will be made a guest -in this secret, shadowy house of the out-of-doors. - -But do not fail first to break bread with the 'possum. A persimmon, or -a handful of wintergreen berries, or a nip of sassafras root, or a -piece of spruce gum, or a lump of liquid amber--share anything, take -any small part in the life of these who live wild in the woods, and -they will meet you at the threshold and make you more than welcome. - -I went in with the 'possum. He had traveled home leisurely and without -fear, as his tracks plainly showed. He was full of persimmons. A good -happy world this, where such fare could be had for the picking! What -need to hurry home? Unless, indeed, one were in danger of falling -asleep by the way! So I thought, too, as I followed his winding path; -and if I was tracking him to his den, it was only to wake him for a -moment with the compliments of the season. But when I finally found -him in his hollow gum, he was so sound asleep he barely knew that -some one was poking him gently in the ribs and wishing him a merry -Christmas. - -The 'possum had led me far along the creek to the centre of the empty, -hollow swamp, where the great-boled gums lifted their branches like a -timbered, unshingled roof between me and the wide sky. Far away -through the spaces of the rafters I saw a pair of wheeling buzzards, -and under them, in lesser circles, a broad-winged hawk. Here, at the -feet of the tall, clean trees, looking up through the leafless limbs, -I had something of a measure for the flight of the great birds. And -what power, what majesty and mystery in those distant buoyant wings! - -I have seen the turkey buzzard sailing the skies on the bitterest -winter days. To-day, however, could hardly be called winter. Indeed, -nothing yet had felt the pinch of the cold. There was no hunger yet in -the swamp, though this new snow had scared the raccoons out, and their -half-human tracks along the margin of the swamp stream showed that, if -not hungry, they at least feared that they might be. - -For a coon hates snow. He invariably stays in during the first light -snowfalls, and even in the late winter he will not venture forth in -fresh snow unless driven by hunger or some other dire need. Perhaps, -like a cat or a hen, he dislikes the wetting of his feet. Or it may be -that the soft snow makes bad hunting--for him. The truth is, I -believe, that such a snow makes too good hunting for the dogs and the -gunner. The new snow tells too clear a story. For the coon's home is -no dark den among the ledges; only a hollow in some ancient oak or -tupelo. Once within, he is safe from the dogs, but his long, fierce -fight for life taught him generations ago that the nest-tree is a -fatal trap when behind the dogs come the axe and the gun. So he has -grown wary and enduring. He waits until the snow grows crusty, when -without sign, and almost without scent, he can slip forth among the -long shadows and prowl to the edge of dawn. - -Skirting the stream out toward the higher back woods, I chanced to spy -a bunch of snow in one of the great sour gums, that I thought was an -old nest. A second look showed me tiny green leaves, then white -berries, then mistletoe! - -It was not a surprise, however, for I had found it here before--a -long, long time before. It was back in my schoolboy days that I first -stood here under the mistletoe and had my first romance. There was no -chandelier, no pretty girl, in that romance--only a boy, the -mistletoe, the giant trees, and the sombre silent swamp. But there was -more than that, there was the thrill of discovery, for until that day -the boy did not know that mistletoe grew outside of England, did not -know that it grew in his own native swamps! Rambling alone through the -swamps along the creek that day, he stopped under a big curious bunch -of green, high up in one of the gums, and--made his first discovery! - -So this Christmas Day the boy climbed up again at the peril of his -precious neck, and brought down a bit of that old romance. - - * * * * * - -I followed the stream along through the swamp to the open meadows, and -then on under the steep wooded hillside that ran up to the higher land -of corn and melon fields. Here at the foot of the slope the winter sun -lay warm, and here in the sheltered, briery border I came upon the -Christmas birds. - -There was a great variety of them, feeding and preening and chirping -in the vines. The tangle was a-twitter with their quiet, cheery talk. -Such a medley of notes you could not hear at any other season outside -a city bird store. How far the different species understood one -another I should like to know, and whether the hum of voices meant -sociability to them, as it certainly did to me. Doubtless the first -cause of their flocking here was the sheltered warmth and the great -numbers of berry-laden bushes, for there was no lack of abundance or -of variety on this Christmas table. - -In sight from where I stood hung bunches of withering chicken, or -frost, grapes, plump clusters of blue-black berries of the greenbrier, -and limbs of the smooth winterberry beaded with their flaming fruit. -There were bushes of crimson ilex, too, trees of fruiting dogwood and -holly, cedars in berry, dwarf sumac and seedy sedges, while patches on -the wood slopes uncovered by the sun were spread with trailing -partridge-berry and the coral-fruited wintergreen. I had eaten part of -my dinner with the 'possum; now I picked a quantity of these -wintergreen berries, and continued my meal with the birds. And they -too, like the 'possum, had enough, and to spare. - -Among the birds in the tangle was a large flock of northern fox -sparrows, whose vigorous and continuous scratching in the bared spots -made a most lively and cheery commotion. Many of them were splashing -about in tiny pools of snow-water, melted partly by the sun and partly -by the warmth of their bodies as they bathed. One would hop to a -softening bit of snow at the base of a tussock, keel over and begin to -flop, soon sending up a shower of sparkling drops from his rather -chilly tub. A winter snow-water bath seemed a necessity, a luxury -indeed; for they all indulged, splashing with the same purpose and -zest that they put into their scratching among the leaves. - -A much bigger splashing drew me quietly through the bushes to find a -marsh hawk giving himself a Christmas souse. The scratching, washing, -and talking of the birds; the masses of green in the cedars, holly, -and laurels; the glowing colors of the berries against the snow; the -blue of the sky, and the golden warmth of the light made Christmas in -the heart of the noon, that the very swamp seemed to feel. - -Two months later there was to be scant picking here, for this was the -beginning of the severest winter I ever knew. From this very ridge, in -February, I had reports of berries gone, of birds starving, of whole -coveys of quail frozen dead in the snow; but neither the birds nor I -dreamed to-day of any such hunger and death. A flock of robins whirled -into the cedars above me; a pair of cardinals whistled back and forth; -tree sparrows, juncos, nuthatches, chickadees, and cedar-birds cheeped -among the trees and bushes; and from the farm lands at the top of the -slope rang the calls of meadowlarks. - -Halfway up the hill I stopped under a blackjack oak, where, in the -thin snow, there were signs of something like a Christmas revel. The -ground was sprinkled with acorn-shells and trampled over with feet of -several kinds and sizes,--quail, jay, and partridge feet; rabbit, -squirrel, and mouse feet, all over the snow as the feast of acorns had -gone on. Hundreds of the acorns were lying about, gnawed away at the -cup end, where the shell was thinnest, many of them further broken and -cleaned out by the birds. - -As I sat studying the signs in the snow, my eye caught a tiny trail -leading out from the others straight away toward a broken pile of -cord-wood. The tracks were planted one after the other, so directly in -line as to seem like the prints of a single foot. "That's a weasel's -trail," I said, "the death's-head at this feast," and followed it -slowly to the pile of wood. A shiver crept over me as I felt, even -sooner than I saw, a pair of small, sinister eyes fixed upon mine. The -evil pointed head, heavy but alert, and with a suggestion of fierce -strength out of all proportion to the slender body, was watching me -from between the sticks of cord-wood. And just so had it been watching -the mice and the rabbits and the birds feasting under the tree! - -I packed a ball of snow round and hard, slipped forward upon my knees -and hurled it. _Spat!_ it struck the end of a stick within an inch of -the ugly head, nearly filling the crevice with snow. Instantly the -head appeared at another crack, and another ball struck viciously -beside it. Now it was back where it first appeared, nor did it flinch -for the next ball, or the next. The third went true, striking with a -_chug_ and packing the crack. But the black, hating eyes were still -watching me a foot lower down. - -It is not all peace and good-will in the Christmas woods. But happily -the weasels are few. More friendly and timid eyes were watching me -than bold and murderous. It was foolish to want to kill--even the -weasel, for one's woods are what one makes them. And so I let the man -with the gun, who just then chanced along, think that I had turned boy -again, and was snowballing the woodpile just for the fun of trying to -hit the end of the biggest stick. - -I was glad he had come. The sight of him took all hatred out of me. As -he strode off with his stained bag I felt kindlier toward the -weasel--there were worse in the woods than he. He must kill to live, -and if he gloated over the kill, why, what fault of his? But the -other, the one with the blood-stained game-bag, he killed for the love -of killing. I was glad he had gone. - -The crows were winging over toward their great roost in the pines when -I turned toward the town. They, too, had had good picking along the -creek flats and the ditches of the meadows. Their powerful wing-beats -and constant play up in the air told of full crops and no fear for the -night, already softly gray across the silent fields. - -The air was crisper; the snow began to crackle under foot; the twigs -creaked and rattled as I brushed along; a brown beech leaf wavered -down and skated with a thin scratch over the crust; and pure as the -snow-wrapped crystal world, and sweet as the soft gray twilight, came -the call of a quail. - -These were not the voices, colors, odors, and forms of summer. The -very face of things had changed; all had been reduced, made plain, -simple, single, pure! There was less for the senses, but how much -keener now their joy! The wide landscape, the frosty air, the tinkle -of tiny icicles, and, out of the quiet of the falling twilight, the -voice of the quail! - -There is no day but is beautiful in the woods; and none more beautiful -than one like this Christmas Day--warm, and still, and wrapped to the -round red berries of the holly in the magic of the snow. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -CHICKADEE - - -I was crunching along through the January dusk toward home. The cold -was bitter. A half-starved partridge had just risen from the road and -fluttered off among the naked bushes--a bit of life vanishing into the -winter night of the woods. I knew the very hemlock in which he would -roost; but what were the thick, snow-bent boughs of his hemlock, and -what were all his winter feathers in such a night as this?--this night -of cutting winds and frozen snow! - -The road dipped from the woods down into a wide, open meadow, where -the winds were free. The cold was driving, numbing here, with a power -for death that the thermometer could not mark. I backed against the -gale and sidewise hastened forward toward the double line of elms that -arched the road in front of the house. Already I could hear them creak -and rattle like things of glass. It was not the sound of life. Nothing -was alive; for what could live in this long darkness and fearful cold? - -The question was hardly thought, when an answer was whirled past me -into the nearest of the naked elms. A chickadee! He caught for an -instant on a dead stub of a limb that stuck out over the road, -scrambled along to its broken tip, and whisked into a hole that ran -straight down the centre of the old stub, down, for I don't know how -far. - -I stopped. The limb lay out upon the wind, with only an eddy of the -gale sucking at the little round hole in the broken end, while -somewhere far down in its hollow heart, huddling himself into a downy, -dozy ball for the night, had crept the chickadee. I knew by the very -way he struck the limb and by the way he turned in at the hole that he -had been there before. He knew whither, across the sweeping meadows, -he was being blown. He had even helped the winds as they whirled him, -for, having tarried along the roads until late, he was in a great -hurry to get home. But he was safe for the night now, in the very bed, -it may be, where he was hatched last summer, and where at this moment, -who knows, were crowded half a dozen other chickadees, the rest of -that last summer's brood, unharmed still, and still sharing the old -home hollow, where they were as snug and warm this fierce, wild night -as ever they were in the soft May days when they nestled here -together. - -The cold drove me on; but the sight of the chickadee had warmed me, -and all my shivering world of night and death. And so he ever does. -For the winter has yet to be that drives him seeking shelter to the -sunny south. I never knew it colder than in January and February of -1904. During both of those months I drove morning and evening through -a long mile of empty, snow-buried woods. For days at a time I would -not see even a crow, but morning and evening at a certain dip in the -road two chickadees would fly from bush to bush across the hollow and -cheer me on my way. - -They came out to the road, really to pick up whatever scanty crumbs of -food were to be found in my wake. They came also to hear me, and to -see me go past--to escape for a moment, I think, from the silence, the -desertion, and the death of the woods. They helped me to escape, too. - -Four other chickadees, all winter long, ate with us at the house, -sharing, so far as the double windows would allow, the cheer of our -dining-room. We served them their meals on the lilac bush outside the -window, tying their suet on so that they could see us and we could see -them during meal-time. Perhaps it was mere suet, and nothing else at -all, that they got; but constantly, when our "pie was opened, the -birds began to sing"--a dainty dish indeed, a dish of live, happy -chickadees that fed our souls. - -There are states in the far Northwest where the porcupine is protected -by law, as a last food resource for men who are lost and starving in -the forests. Porcupine is so slow that a dying man can catch him and -make a meal on him. Perhaps the porcupine was not designed by nature -for any such purpose, and would not approve of it at all. Perhaps -Chickadee was not left behind by Summer to feed my lost and starving -hope through the cheerless months of winter. But that is the use I -make of him. He is Summer's pledge to me. He tells me that this winter -world is a living world and not a dreary world of death. The woods are -hollow, the winds are chill, the earth is cold and stiff, but there -flits Chickadee, and--I cannot lose faith, nor feel that this -procession of bleak white days is all a funeral! If Chickadee can -live, then so can I. - -He is the only bird in my out-of-doors that I can find without fail -three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. From December to the -end of March he comes daily to my lilac bush for suet; from April to -early July he is busy with domestic cares in the gray birches down the -hillside; from August to December he and his family come hunting -quietly and sociably as a little flock among the trees and bushes of -the farm; and from then on he is back again for his winter meals at -"The Lilac." - -Is it any wonder that he was the first bird I ever felt personally -acquainted with? That early acquaintance, however, was not brought -about by his great abundance, nor by his very bad, bold manners, as -might be with the English sparrow. I got acquainted with him first, -because he wanted to get acquainted with me, he is such a cheerful, -confiding, sociable little bird! He drops down and peeps under your -hat-brim to see what manner of boy you are, and if you are really fit -to be abroad in this beautiful world, so altogether good both summer -and winter--for chickadees. - -He is not quite so sociable in summer as in winter, but if you were no -bigger than a chickadee (two and one half inches without your tail!) -and had eight babies nearly as big as yourself to hunt grubs for, -besides a wife to pet and feed, do you think you could be very -sociable? In the winter, however, he is always at liberty to stop and -talk to you, a sweet little way he has that makes him the easiest bird -in the world to get acquainted with. - -Last winter while I was tying up a piece of suet that had fallen into -the snow, a hungry and impatient chickadee lighted on the brim of my -felt hat. The brim bent under him, and he came fluttering down against -my nose, which I thought for an instant he was going to take for suet! -He didn't snip it off, however, as a certain blackbird did a certain -maiden's nose, but lighted instead on my shoulder. Then, seeing the -lump of suet in my hand, he flew up and perched upon my fingers and -held on, picking at the suet all the time I was tying it fast in the -bush. - -He is a friendly little soul, who loves your neighborhood, as, indeed, -most birds do; who has no fear of you, because he cannot think that -you could fear him and so would want to hurt him. - -Nature made him an insect-eater; but he has a mission to perform -besides eating pestiferous insects, and their eggs and grubs. This -destruction of insects he does that the balance of things may be -maintained out of doors, lest the insects destroy us. He has quite -another work to do, which is not a matter of grubs, and which in no -wise is a matter of fine feathers or sweet voice, but simply a matter -of sweet nature, vigor, and concentrated cheerfulness. - -Chickadee is a sermon. I hear him on a joyous May morning calling -_Chick-a-dee! dee! Chick-a-dee! dee!_--brisk, bright, and cheery; or, -soft and gentle as a caress, he whistles, _Phoe-ee-bee! -Phoe-ee-bee!_ I meet him again on the edge of a bleak winter night. -He is hungry and cold, and he calls, as I hasten along, _Chick-a-dee! -dee! Chick-a-dee! dee!_ brisk, bright, and cheery; or, following after -me, he talks to me with words as soft and gentle as a caress. - -Will you lend me your wings, Chickadee, your invisible wings on which -you ride the winds of life so evenly? - -The abundant summer, the lean and wolfish winter, find Chickadee -cheerful and gentle. He is busier at some seasons than at others, with -fewer chances for friendship. He almost disappears in the early -summer. But this is because of family cares; and because the bigger, -louder birds have come back, and the big leaves have come out and -hidden him. A little searching, and you will discover him, in one of -your old decayed fence-posts, maybe, or else deep in the swamp, -foraging for a family of from six to eight, that fairly bulge and boil -over from the door of their home. - -Here about Mullein Hill, this is sure to be a gray-birch home. Other -trees will do--on a pinch. I have found Chickadee nesting in live -white oaks, maples, upturned roots, and tumbling fence-posts. These -were shifts, only, mere houses, not real homes. The only good homelike -trees are old gray birches, dead these many years and gone to -punk--mere shells of tough circular bark walls. Halfway down the hill -is a small grove of these birches that we call the Seminary (because, -as a poet friend says, "they look like seminary girls in white -frocks"). Here the chickadees love to build. - -Why has Chickadee this very decided preference? Is it a case of -protective coloration--the little gray and black bird choosing to nest -in this little gray and black tree because bird and tree so exactly -match one another in size and color? Or is there a strain of poetry -in Chickadee's soul, something fine, that leads him into this -exquisite harmony--into this little gray house for his little gray -self? - -Explain it as you may, it is a fact that the little bird shows this -marked preference, makes this deliberate choice; and in the choice is -protection and poetry, too. Doubtless he follows the guidance of a -sure and watchful instinct. But who shall deny to him a share of the -higher, finer things of the imagination? - -His life is like his home--gentle and sweet and idyllic. There is no -happier spot in the summer woods than that about the birch of the -chickadees; and none whose happiness you will be so little liable to -disturb. - -Before the woods were in leaf last spring I found a pair of chickadees -building in a birch along the edge of the swamp. They had just begun, -having dug out only an inch of the cavity. It was very interesting to -discover them doing the excavating themselves, for usually they refit -some abandoned chamber or adapt to their needs some ready-made hole. - -The birch was a long, limbless cylinder of bark, broken off about -fourteen feet up, and utterly rotten, the mere skin of a tree stuffed -with dust. I could push my finger into it at any point. It was so weak -that every time the birds lighted upon the top the whole stub wobbled -and reeled. Surely they were building their house upon the sand! Any -creature without wings would have known that. The birds, however, -because they have wings, seem to have lost the sense of such -insecurity, often placing their nests as if they expected the nests -themselves to take wings and fly to safety when the rains descend and -the winds come. - -This shaking stub of the chickadees was standing directly beneath a -great overshadowing pine, where, if no partridge bumped into it, if -two squirrels did not scamper up it together, if the crows nesting -overhead in the pine did not discover it, if no strong wind bore down -upon it from the meadow side, it might totter out the nesting-season. -But it didn't. The birds were leaving too much to luck. I knew it, and -perhaps I should have pushed their card house down, then and there, -and saved the greater ruin later. Perhaps so, but who was I to -interfere in their labor? - -Both birds were at the work when I discovered them, and so busily at -it that my coming up did not delay them for a single billful. It was -not hard digging, but it was very slow, for Chickadee is neither -carpenter nor mason. He has difficulty killing a hard-backed beetle. -So, whenever you find him occupying a clean-walled cavity, with a -neat, freshly chipped doorway, you may be sure that some woodpecker -built the house, and not this short-billed, soft-tailed little tit. -Chickadee lacks both the bill chisel and the tail brace. Perhaps the -explanation of his fondness for birch trees lies here--because the -birch trees die young and soon decay! - -The birds were going down through the broken-off top, and not by a -hole through the leathery rind of the sides, for the bark was too -tough for their beaks. They would drop into the top of the stub, pick -up a wad of decayed wood and fly off to a dead limb of the pine. Here, -with a jerk and a snap of their bills, they would scatter the punk in -a shower so thin and far that I could neither hear it fall nor find a -trace of it upon the dead leaves of the ground. This nest would never -be betrayed by the workmen's chips, as are the woodpeckers' -nest-holes. - -Between the pair there averaged three beakfuls of excavating every two -minutes, one of the birds regularly shoveling twice to the other's -once. They looked so exactly alike that I could not tell which bird -was pushing the enterprise; but I had my suspicions. It was Mrs. -Chickadee! - -Mr. Chickadee was doing only part of his duty, and only -half-heartedly at that! Hers was the real interest, the real anxiety. -To be a Mr. Chickadee and show off! That's the thing! - -I sat a long time watching the work. It went on in perfect silence, -not a chirp, not the sound of a fluttering wing. The swamp along whose -margin the birds were building had not a joyous atmosphere. Damp, -dim-shadowed, and secret, it seemed to have laid its spell upon the -birds. Their very color of gray and black was as if mixed out of the -dusky colors of the swamp; their noiseless coming and going was like -the slipping to and fro of small shadows. They were a part of the -swamp--of its life, of its color, of its silence. They were children -of the swamp, sharing its very spirit, and that sharing was their -defense, the best protection that they could have had. - -It didn't save their nest, however. They felt and obeyed the spirit of -the Swamp in their own conduct, but the Swamp did not tell them where -to build. Birds and animals have wonderful instinct, or family wisdom, -but not much personal, individual wisdom. - -It was about three weeks later when I stopped again under the pine and -found the birch stub in pieces upon the ground. Some strong wind had -come, or some robber had been after the eggs, and had brought the -whole house tumbling down. - -But this is not the fate of all such birch-bark houses. Now and again -they escape; yet when they do it is always a matter for wonder. - -I was following an old disused wood-road once when I frightened a -robin from her nest. Her mate joined her, and together they raised a -great hubbub. Immediately a chewink, a pair of vireos, and two black -and white warblers joined the robins in their din. Then a chickadee -appeared. He had a worm in his beak. His anxiety seemed so real that I -began to watch him, when, looking down among the stones for a place to -step, what should I see but his mate emerging from the end of a tiny -birch stump at my very feet! She had heard the racket and had come out -to see what it was all about. At sight of her, Mr. Chickadee hastened -with his worm, brushing my face, almost, as he darted to her side. She -took the worm sweetly, for she knew he had intended it for her. But -how do I know it was intended for her, and not for the young? There -were no young in the nest; only eggs. Even after the young came (there -were eight of them!), when life, from daylight to dark, was one -ceaseless, hurried hunt for worms, I saw him over and over again fly -to Mrs. Chickadee's side caressingly and tempt her to eat. - -The house of this pair did not fall. How could it when it stood -precisely two and a half feet from the ground? But that it wasn't -looted is due to the amazing boldness of its situation. It stood -alone, close to the road, so close that the hub of a low wheel in -passing might have knocked it down. Perhaps a hundred persons had -brushed it in going by. How many dogs and cats had overlooked it no -one can say; nor how many skunks and snakes and squirrels. The -accident that discovered it to me had happened apparently to no one -else, so here it stood still safe, but only by the grace of Luck! - -Cutting a tiny window in the bark just above the eggs, I looked in -upon the little children every day. I watched them hatch, grow, and -fill the cavity and hang over at the top. I was there the day they -forced my window open; I was there the day when there was no more room -at the top, and when, at the call of their parents, one child after -another of this large, sweet bird family found his wings and flew away -through the friendly woods. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO DO THIS WINTER - - -I - -You should go skating--crawling, I ought to say--over a pond of glare -ice this winter. Take the pond you are most familiar with. Go early on -a bright day, before any skater arrives, and lying flat upon the -clear, "black" ice, study the bottom of the pond and the fish that -swim below you. They have boats with glass bottoms along the -California coast, through which to watch the marvelous bottoms off -shore. But an Eastern pond covered with glare ice is as good, for such -ice is a plate-glass window into a wonder world. - - -II - -Fight your way one of these winter days to the crest of some high hill -and stand up against a northwest gale. Feel the sweep of the winds -from across the plain beneath you; hear them speaking close in your -ear, as they fly past; catch them and breathe them, until they run red -in your leaping veins. Master them, and make them, mighty as they are, -your own. And something large and free, strong and sound will pass -into you; and you will love the great world more, and you will feel -how fit a place, for the strong of heart, is this earth to live on. - - -III - -Keep a careful list of the winter birds you see; and visit every -variety of wood, meadow, and upland in your neighborhood--not -neglecting the parks and city trees--for a sight of the rarer winter -visitors, such as the snowy owl, the snow buntings, and the -crossbills. - - -IV - -If you know little about the birds, then this is the time to begin -your study. When they are so few and scarce? Yes, just because they -are few and scarce. On a June morning (unless you are at home in the -woods) you will be confused by the medley of songs you hear, and the -shapes flitting everywhere about you; and you may be tempted to give -up your study for the very multitude. Get a pair of good field or -opera glasses and a good bird book, such as Hoffmann's, "Guide to the -Birds," and go into the fields and woods--leaving the book at home. -The first bird you see follow up until you can remember (1) his size, -color--whether he has a white bar on wings, or small spots or large -clear spots on breast; (2) his chirp, or call; (3) something peculiar -about his flight--a flirt of the tail, a habit of flying down to the -ground in getting away. Then come back to your book and identify him -_from memory_. If you cannot, then go out again and again; and it will -not be long before either this first one, or others, will be -accurately made out--the beginning of an acquaintance that you can -extend in the summer, but which will be plenty large enough for your -"coming-out" winter into bird society. For here is a list of the birds -you may be able to find during the winter:-- - -Screech owl, crow, robin, flicker, jay, goldfinch, tree sparrow, -English sparrow, song sparrow, junco, golden-crowned kinglet, -nuthatch, brown creeper, downy woodpecker, quail, partridge. - - -V - -See to it that no bird in your neighborhood starves for lack of food -that you can supply. Tie a piece of suet to a tree or bush near the -house (by the window if you can) for the chickadees and blue jays; -keep a place on the lawn cleared of snow and well supplied with crumbs -and small seeds for the juncos and the sparrows; hang a netted bag of -cracked nuts out somewhere for the nuthatches; and provide corn and -nuts for the squirrels. - - -VI - -Go out on a cold December day, or a January day, and see how many -"signs" of spring--"Minor Prophets," as Mr. Torrey calls them--you can -bring home. They will be mostly buds of various sorts. Then, on a -warm, soft day, go again to see what you can bring home--flitting, -creeping, crawling things that the warm sun has brought from their -winter hiding. - - -VII - -Make a map of your sky, showing the positions of the planets, the -constellations, and the most brilliant stars, the points in the -horizon for the rising and setting of the sun, say, in January, noting -the changes in places of things since your last map drawn in October. -Any school child can do it, and, in doing it, learn the few large -facts about the sky that most people are pitifully ignorant of. - - -VIII - -Go out after a fresh light snow and take up the trail of a fox or a -rabbit or a partridge, as you might take up a problem in arithmetic, -or as a detective might take up a clew, and "solve" it--where the -creature came from, where going, what for, in a hurry or not, pursued -or pursuing, etc. It will give you one of the best of lessons in -observation, in following a clew, and in learning to take a hint. - - -IX - -Go out to study the face of the ground--the ridges, hollows, level -places, the ledges, meadows, sandbanks, the course of the streams, the -location of the springs--the general shape and contour, the pitch and -slant and make-up of the region over which you tramp in the summer. -Now, when the leaves are off and things swept bare, you can get a -general idea of the lay of the land that will greatly aid you in your -more detailed study of plants and birds, of individual things, in the -summer. It is like an outline map in your geography. - - -X - -Winter is the time to do much good reading. A tramp over real fields -is to be preferred to a tramp in a book. But a good book is pretty -nearly as good as anything under the stars. You need both fields and -books. And during these cold days--impossible days, some of them, for -work afield--you will read, read. Oh, the good things to read that -have been written about the out-of-doors! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE MISSING TOOTH - - -The snow had melted from the river meadows, leaving them flattened, -faded, and stained with mud--a dull, dreary waste in the gray -February. I had stopped beside a tiny bundle of bones that lay in the -matted grass a dozen feet from a ditch. Here, still showing, was the -narrow path along which the bones had dragged themselves; there the -hole by which they had left the burrow in the bank of the ditch. They -had crawled out in this old runway, then turned off a little into the -heavy autumn grass and laid them down. The rains had come and the -winter snows. The spring was breaking now and the small bundle, gently -loosened and uncovered, was whitening on the wide, bare meadow. - -Shall I stop beside this small bundle of whitening bones or shall I -turn my head away and pass on? Shall I allow you to stop with me in -our winter ramble and let you see the tragedy here in the flattened -meadow grass, or shall I hide from your eyes the dark, the bitter, the -tragic in the lives of the wild things out of doors? - -I think it is best to hide nothing from you. Real love for nature is -largely sympathy with nature; and there can be no sympathy without -intimate and full understanding of the struggle and suffering in the -lives out of doors. There is a dark story in this little bundle of -bones. Do you wish to hear it? There is a fierce, cruel threat in the -growl of the winter wind. Do you wish to hear that? There is menace -and death in the shrill scream of the hawk. Do you wish to hear that? -Or do you wish to hear only the song of the robin? only the whisper of -the summer breeze? only the story of the life and love and joy of -things? - -No, there are two sides to life--two sides to your life, the bright -and dark sides; two sides to the lives of all men, and to the lives of -all things. Summer is the bright side of Nature's life; winter is the -dark side. Summer and winter are both needed to round out the life of -the year; so tears and laughter seem to be needed in our lives; joy -and sorrow, peace and suffering, rest and hardship--these, or -something like them, seem to be needed in the lesser lives of birds -and beasts to round out their experience and make them keen and -strong. - -Happily, the pain and suffering in nature are largely hidden from us. -Wild things when stricken "turn their faces to the wall," retreat, -slink silently away out of sight to be alone. They do not wish us to -know. But we do know, and we need to know, if we would enter into -their lives as a sharer in them; and if we would enter into and -understand the larger, wider, deeper life of which they, and we, and -all things, are a part. - -You must pause with me above this little bundle of bones until I tell -you their story. - - * * * * * - -I had recognized the bones at once as the skeleton of a muskrat. But -it was something peculiar in the way they lay that had caused me to -pause. They seemed outstretched, as if composed by gentle hands, the -hands of sleep. They had not been flung down. The delicate ribs had -fallen in, but not a bone was broken nor displaced, not one showed the -splinter of shot, or the crack that might have been made by a steel -trap. No violence had been done them. They had been touched by nothing -rougher than the snow. Out into the hidden runway they had crept. -Death had passed by them here; but no one else in all the winter -months. - -The creature had died--a "natural" death. It had starved, while a -hundred acres of plenty lay round about. Picking up the skull, I -found the jaws locked together as if they were a single solid bone. -One of the two incisor teeth of the upper jaw was missing, and -apparently had never developed. The opposite tooth on the lower jaw, -thus unopposed and so unworn, had grown beyond its normal height up -into the empty socket above, then on, turning outward and piercing the -cheek-bone in front of the eye, whence, curving like a boar's tusk, it -had slowly closed the jaws and locked them, rigid, set, as fixed as -jaws of stone. - -At first the animal had been able to gnaw; but as the tooth curved -through the bones of the face and gradually tightened the jaws, the -creature got less and less to eat, until, one day, creeping out of the -burrow for food, the poor thing was unable to get back. - -We seldom come upon the like of this. It is commoner than we think; -but, as I have said, it is usually hidden away and quickly over. How -often do we see a wild thing sick--a bird or animal suffering from an -accident, or dying, like this muskrat, because of some physical -defect? The struggle between animals--the falling of the weak as prey -to the strong--is ever before us; but this single-handed fight between -the creature and Nature is a far rarer, silenter tragedy. Nature is -too swift to allow us time for sympathy. - -At best there is only a fighting chance in the meadow. Only strength -and craft may win; only those who have all of their teeth. The muskrat -with a single missing tooth never enters the real race of life at all. -He slinks from some abandoned burrow, and, if the owl and mink are not -watching, he dies alone in the grass, and we rarely know. - -I shall never forget the impression made upon me by those quiet bones. -It was like that made by my first visit to a great city hospital--out -of the busy, cheerful street into a surgical ward, where the sick and -injured lay in long white lines. We tramp the woods and meadows and -never step from the sweet air and the pure sunlight of health into a -hospital. But that is not because no sick, ill-formed, or injured are -there. The proportion is smaller than among us humans, and for very -good reasons, yet there is much real suffering, and to come upon it, -as we will, now and then, must certainly quicken our understanding and -deepen our sympathy with the life out of doors. - -No sensible person could for a moment believe the animals capable of -suffering as a human being can suffer; nor that there is any such call -for our sympathy from them as from our human neighbors. But an -unselfish sharing of the life of the fields demands that we take part -in all of it. - -Nature wears a brave face. Her smile is ever in the open, her laughter -quick and contagious. This brave front is no mask. It is real. -Sunlight, song, color, form, and fragrance are real. And so is our -love and joy in Nature real. Real, also, should be our sympathy and -sorrow with Nature. - -Here, for instance, are my crows: do I share fully in the life of -Nature so long as I think of the crow only with admiration for his -cunning or with wrath at his destruction of my melons and corn? - -A crow has his solemn moments. He knows fear, pain, hunger, accident, -and disease; he knows something very like affection and love. For all -that, he is a mere crow. But a mere crow is no mean thing. He is my -brother, and a real love will give me part in all his existence. I -will forage and fight with him; I will parley and play; and when the -keen north winds find him in the frozen pines, I will suffer with him, -too. - -Here again are my meadow voles. I know that my hay crop is shorter -every year for them,--a very little shorter. And I can look with -satisfaction at a cat carrying a big bob-tailed vole out of my -"mowing," for the voles, along with other mice, are injurious to man. - -But one day I came upon two of my voles struggling for life in the -water, exhausted and well-nigh dead. I helped them out, as I should -have helped out any other creature, and having saved them, why, what -could I do but let them go--even into my own meadow? This has happened -several times. - -When the drought dries the meadow, the voles come to the deep, -plank-walled spring at the upper end, to drink. The water usually -trickles over the curb, but in a long dry spell it shrinks to a foot -or more below the edge, and the voles, once within for their drink, -cannot get out. Time and again I had fished them up, until I thought -to leave a board slanting down to the water, so that they could climb -back to the top. - -It is wholesome to be the good Samaritan to a meadow mouse, to pour -out, even waste, a little of the oil and wine of sympathy on the -humblest of our needy neighbors. - -Here are the chimney swallows, too. One can look with complacency, -with gratitude, indeed, upon the swallows of other chimneys, as they -hawk in the sky; yet, when the little creatures, so useful, but so -uncombed and unfumigated, set up their establishments in _your_ -chimney, to the jeopardy of the whole house, then you need an -experience like mine. - -I had had a like experience years before, when the house did not -belong to me. This time, however, the house was mine, and if it became -infested with vermin because of the swallows, I could not move away; -so I felt like burning them in the chimney, bag and baggage. There -were four nests, as nearly as I could make out, and, from the -frequent squeakings, I knew they were all filled with young. Then one -day, when the young were nearly ready to fly, there came a rain that -ran wet far down the sooty chimney, loosened the mortar of the nests, -and sent them crashing into the fireplace. - -Some of the young birds were killed outright; the others were at my -mercy, flung upon me,--helpless, wailing infants! Of course I made it -comfortable for them on the back-log, and let their mothers flutter -down unhindered to feed them. Had I understood the trick, I would have -hawked for them and helped feed them myself! - -They made a great thunder in the chimney; they rattled down into the -living-room a little soot; but nothing further came of it. We were not -quarantined. On the contrary, we had our reward, according to promise; -for it was an extremely interesting event to us all. It dispelled some -silly qualms, it gave us intimate part in a strange small life, so -foreign, yet so closely linked to our own; and it made us pause with -wonder that even our empty, sooty chimney could be made use of by -Nature to our great benefit. - -I wonder if the nests of the chimney swallows came tumbling down when -the birds used to build in caves and hollow trees? It is a most -extraordinary change, this change from the trees to the chimneys, and -it does not seem to have been accompanied by an increase of -architectural wisdom necessary to meet all the conditions of the new -hollow. The mortar or glue, which, I imagine, held firmly in the empty -trees, will not mix with the chimney soot, so that the nest, -especially when crowded with young, is easily loosened by the rain, -and sometimes even broken away by the slight wing stroke of a -descending swallow, or by the added weight of a parent bird as it -settles with food. - -We little realize how frequent fear is among the birds and animals, -and how often it proves fatal. A situation that would have caused no -trouble ordinarily, becomes through sudden fright a tangle or a trap. -I have known many a quail to bolt into a fast express train and fall -dead. Last winter I left the large door of the barn open, so that my -flock of juncos could feed inside upon the floor. They found their way -into the hayloft and went up and down freely. On two or three -occasions I happened in so suddenly that they were thoroughly -frightened and flew madly into the cupola to escape through the -windows. They beat against the glass until utterly dazed, and would -have perished there, had I not climbed up later and brought them down. -So thousands of the migrating birds perish yearly by flying wildly -against the dazzling lanterns of the lighthouses, and thousands more -either lose their course in the thick darkness of the stormy nights, -or else are blown out of it, and drift far away to sea. - -Hasty, careless, miscalculated movements are not as frequent among the -careful wild folk as among us, perhaps; but there is abundant evidence -of their occasional occurrence and of their sometimes fatal results. - -Several instances are recorded of birds that have been tangled in the -threads of their nests; and one instance of a bluebird that was caught -in the flying meshes of an oriole's nest into which it had been -spying. - -I once found the mummied body of a chippy twisting and swinging in the -leafless branches of a peach tree. The little creature was suspended -in a web of horsehair about two inches below a nest. It looked as if -she had brought a snarled bunch of the hair and left it loose in the -twigs. Later on, a careless step and her foot was fast, when every -frantic effort for freedom only tangled her the worse. In the nest -above were four other tiny mummies--a double tragedy that might with -care have been averted. - -A similar fate befell a song sparrow that I discovered hanging dead -upon a barbed-wire fence. By some chance it had slipped a foot through -an open place between the two twisted strands, and then, fluttering -along, had wedged the leg and broken it in the struggle to escape. - -We have all held our breath at the hazardous traveling of the -squirrels in the treetops. What other animals take such -risks?--leaping at dizzy heights from bending limbs to catch the tips -of limbs still smaller, saving themselves again and again by the -merest chance. - -But luck sometimes fails. My brother, a careful watcher in the woods, -on one occasion when he was hunting, saw a gray squirrel miss its -footing in a tree and fall, breaking its neck upon a log beneath. - -I have frequently known squirrels to fall short distances, and once I -saw a red squirrel come to grief like this gray squirrel. He was -scurrying through the tops of some lofty pitch pines, a little hurried -and flustered at sight of me, and, nearing the end of a high branch, -was in the act of springing, when the dead tip cracked under him and -he came tumbling headlong. The height must have been forty feet, so -that before he reached the ground he had righted himself,--his tail -out and legs spread,--but the fall was too great. He hit the earth -heavily, and before I could reach him he lay dead upon the needles, -with blood oozing from his eyes and nostrils. - -Unhoused and often unsheltered, the wild things suffer as we hardly -yet understand. No one can estimate how many of our wild creatures die -in a year from severe cold, heavy storms, high winds and tides. I -have known the nests of a whole colony of gulls and terns to be swept -away in a great storm; while the tides, over and over, have flooded -the inlet marshes and drowned out the nests in the grass--those of the -clapper rails by thousands. - -I remember a late spring storm that came with the returning redstarts -and, in my neighborhood, killed many of them. Toward evening of that -day one of the little black-and-orange voyageurs fluttered against the -window and we let him in, wet, chilled, and so exhausted that for a -moment he lay on his back in my open palm. Soon after there was -another soft tapping at the window,--and _two_ little redstarts were -sharing our cheer and drying their butterfly wings in our warmth. Both -of these birds would have perished had we not harbored them for the -night. - -The birds and animals are not as weather-wise as we; they cannot -foretell as far ahead nor provide as certainly against need, despite -the popular notion to the contrary. - -We point to the migrating birds, to the muskrat houses, to the hoards -of the squirrels, and say, "How wise and far-sighted these -Nature-taught children are!" True, they are, but only for conditions -that are normal. Their wisdom does not cover the unusual. The gray -squirrels did not provide for the unusually hard weather of last -winter. Three of them from the woodlot came begging of me, and lived -on my wisdom, not their own. - -Consider the ravens, that neither sow nor reap, that have neither -storehouse nor barn, yet they are fed--but not always. Indeed, there -are few of our winter birds that go hungry so often as do the cousins -of the ravens, the crows, and that die in so great numbers for lack of -food and shelter. - -After severe and protracted cold, with a snow-covered ground, a -crow-roost looks like a battlefield, so thick lie the dead and -wounded. Morning after morning the flock goes over to forage in the -frozen fields, and night after night returns hungrier, weaker, and -less able to resist the cold. Now, as the darkness falls, a bitter -wind breaks loose and sweeps down upon the pines. - - "List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle, - I thought me on the ourie cattle,"-- - -and how often I have thought me of the crows biding the night yonder -in the moaning pines! So often, as a boy, and with so real an awe, -have I watched them returning at night, that the crows will never -cease flying through my wintry sky,--an endless line of wavering black -figures, weary, retreating figures, beating over in the early dusk. - -And to-night another wild storm sweeps across the winter fields. All -the afternoon the crows have been going over, and are still passing as -the darkness settles at five o'clock. Now it is nearly eight, and the -long night is but just begun. The storm is increasing. The wind -shrieks about the house, whirling the fine snow in hissing eddies past -the corners and driving it on into long, curling crests across the -fields. I can hear the roar as the wind strikes the shoal of pines -where the fields roll into the woods--a vast surf sound, but softer -and higher, with a wail like the wail of some vast heart in pain. - -I can see the tall trees rock and sway with their burden of dark -forms. As close together as they can crowd on the bending limbs cling -the crows, their breasts turned all to the storm. With crops empty and -bodies weak, they rise and fall in the cutting, ice-filled wind for -thirteen hours of night. - -Is it a wonder that the life fires burn low? that sometimes the small -flames flicker and go out? - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE PECULIAR 'POSSUM - - -If you are a New Englander, or a Northwesterner, then, probably, you -have never pulled a 'possum out of his hollow stump or from under some -old rail-pile, as I have done, many a time, down in southern New -Jersey. And so, probably, you have never made the acquaintance of the -most peculiar creature in our American woods. - -Even roast 'possum is peculiar. Up to the time you taste roast 'possum -you quite agree with Charles Lamb that roast pig is peculiarly the -most delicious delicacy "in the whole _modus edibilis_," in other -words, bill of fare. But once you eat roast 'possum, you will go all -over Lamb's tasty "Dissertation upon Roast Pig," marking out "pig" -with your pencil and writing in "'possum," making the essay read -thus:-- - -"There is no flavor comparable, I will contend, to that of the crisp, -tawny, well-watched, not over-roasted, _'possum_, as it is -called,--the very teeth are invited to their share of the pleasure at -this banquet in overcoming the coy, brittle resistance,--with the -adhesive oleaginous--O call it not fat! but an indefinable sweetness -growing up to it--the tender blossoming of fat--fat cropped in the -bud--taken in the shoot--in the first innocence--" For no matter how -old your roast 'possum, he is as tender as the tenderest roast pig. -And that, of course, is peculiar. - -But live 'possum is more peculiar than roast 'possum. It is peculiar, -for instance, that almost all of the 'possum's relations, except his -immediate family, dwell apart in Australia,--in Australasia, for -marsupials are found also in Tasmania, New Guinea, and the -Moluccas--which islands the marsupials seem to have had given them for -their own when the world was made. There, at least, most of them live -and have lived for ages, except the 'possums. These latter, strangely -enough, live in South and North America, and nowhere else. The -peculiar, puzzling thing about them is: how they, and they only of the -marsupials, got away from Australia across the sea to America. Did a -family of them get set adrift on a log and float across? Or was there -once, as geologists tell us, a long string of islands close together, -stretching from the tip of South America, from the "Horn," off across -the sea to Australia, over which the 'possums might once have made -their way? But if they came by such a route, why did not the kangaroos -come too? Ah, the kangaroo is not a 'possum. There is no other -creature in the woods that would dare play "Follow the leader" with -the 'possum. No, I am half inclined to think the scientists right who -say that the 'possum is the great-great-grandfather of all the -marsupials, and that the migration might have been the other way -about--from America, across the sea. - -But what is the use of speculating? Here is the 'possum in our woods; -that we know; and yonder in Australasia are his thirteen sets of -cousins, and there they seem always to have been, for of these -thirteen sets of cousins, four sets have so long since ceased to live -that they are now among the fossils, slowly turning, every one of -them, to stone! - -A queer history he has, surely! But queerer than his history, is his -body, and the way he grows from babyhood to twenty-pound 'possumhood. - -For besides having a tail that can be used for a hand, and a paw with -a thumb like the human thumb, the female 'possum has a pocket or pouch -on her abdomen, just as the kangaroo has, in which she carries her -young. - -Now that is peculiar, so very peculiar when you study deeply into it, -that the 'possum becomes to the scientist quite the most interesting -mammal in North America. - -Returning from a Christmas vacation one year, while a student in -college, I brought back with me twenty-six live 'possums so that the -professor of zoology could study the peculiar anatomy of the 'possum -for several of its many meanings. - -This pouch, for instance, and the peculiar bones of the 'possum, show -that it is a very primitive mammal, one of the very oldest mammals, so -close to the beginning of the mammalian line that there are only two -other living "animals" (we can hardly call them mammals) older and -more primitive--the porcupine ant-eater, and, oldest of all, the -duck-bill, not "older" at all perhaps, but only more primitive. - -For the duck-bill, though classed as a mammal, not only has the bill -of the duck, but also lays eggs like the birds. The porcupine -ant-eater likewise lays eggs, and so seems almost as much bird or -reptile as mammal. And as the birds and reptiles lived upon the earth -before the age of mammals, and are a lower and more primitive order of -creatures, so the duck-bill, the porcupine ant-eater, and the 'possum, -because in their anatomy they are like the birds and the reptiles in -some respects, are perhaps the lowest and the oldest of all the -mammals. - -The 'possum, therefore, is one of the most primitive of mammals, and -dates as far back as the reptilian age, when only traces of mammalian -life are to be found, the 'possum's fossil ancestors being among the -notable of these early remains. - -The mammals at that time, as I have just said, were only partly -mammal, for they were partly bird or reptile, as the duck-bill and -ant-eater still are. Now the 'possum does not lay eggs as these other -two do, for its young are born, not hatched; yet so tiny and -undeveloped are they when born, that they must be put into their -mother's pouch and nursed, as eggs are put into a nest and brooded -until they are hatched--really born a second time. - -For here in their mother's pouch they are like chicks in the shell, -and quite as helpless. It is five weeks before they can stick their -heads out and take a look at the world. - -No other mammalian baby is so much of a baby and yet comes so near to -being no baby at all. It is less than an inch long when put into the -pouch, and it weighs only four grains! Four grains? Think how small -that is. For there are 7000 grains to a pound, which means that it -would take 1750 baby 'possums to weigh as much as two cups of sugar! - -"I should say he was peculiar!" I hear you exclaim; and you will agree -with an ancient History of Carolina which I have, when it declares: -"The Opoffom is the wonder of all the land animals." - -I wish you had been with me one spring day as I was stretching a -"lay-out" line across Cubby Hollow. (A lay-out line is a long -fish-line, strung with baited hooks, and reaching across the pond from -shore to shore.) I was out in the middle of the pond, lying flat on a -raft made of three cedar rails, when my dog began to bark at something -in a brier-patch on shore. - -Paddling in as fast as I could, I found the dog standing before a -large 'possum, which was backed up against a tree. I finally got Mrs. -'Possum by the tail and dropped her unhurt into my eel-pot--a -fish-trap made out of an empty nail-keg--which I had left since fall -among the bushes of the hillside. Then paddling again to the middle of -the pond, I untangled and set my hooks on the lay-out line, and came -back to shore for my 'possum. - -I didn't quite fancy pushing my hand down through the burlap cover -over the end of the keg; so I turned it upside down to spill the -'possum out,--and out she spilled and nine little 'possums with her! - -I had put in one and spilled out--ten! And this proves again that the -'possum is peculiar. Nine of these were babies that had been hidden -from me and the dog in their mother's pouch. - -Peculiar, too, was the history of one of these nine young 'possums -(the one we named "Pinky"). For after Pinky's mother choked to death -on a fish-bone, I gave all his brothers and sisters away, and devoted -myself to training Pinky up in the way he should go. And strangely -enough, when he was grown, unlike any other wild animal I had ever -tamed, he would not depart from these domesticated ways, but insisted -upon coming back home every time I took him away to the woods. Of -course he was only a few months old when I tried to turn him loose in -the woods, and that may account for his returning and squeezing -through the opening of the pump-box trough into the kitchen and going -fast asleep on the cushion of the settee; as it may also account for -his getting into a neighbor's yard by mistake on his way back one -night and drowning in the well. - -You have read of 'possum hunts;--and they are peculiar, too, as -naturally they must needs be. For you hunt 'possums with rabbit -hounds, and shoot them with a meal-sack--shoot them _into_ a meal-sack -would be more exact. And you hunt by moonlight if you really love -'possum. - -We used to start out just as the moon, climbing over the woods, fell -soft across the bare fields. The old dog would be some distance ahead, -her nose to the ground, sometimes picking up a trail in the first -cornfield, or again not until we reached the woods, or again leading -us for miles along the creek meadows among the scattered persimmon -trees, before striking a fresh scent. - -Wherever the trail started it usually led away for the woods, for some -hollow stump or tree, where the 'possum made his nest. Once in a while -I have overtaken the fat fellow in an open field or atop a fence, or -have even caught him in a hencoop; but usually, if hunting at night, -it has been a long, and not always an easy, chase, for a 'possum, in -spite of his fat and his fossil ancestors, is not stupid. Or else he -is so slow-witted that there is no telling, by man or dog, which way -he will go, or what he may do next. - -A rabbit, or a deer, or a coon, when you are on their trail, will do -certain things. You can count upon them with great certainty. But a -'possum never seems to do anything twice alike; he has no traveled -paths, no regular tricks, no set habits. He knows the road home, -but it is always a different road--a meandering, roundabout, -zigzag, criss-cross, up-and-down (up-the-trees-and-down) road, -we-won't-get-home-till-morning road, that takes in all the way -stations, from the tops of tall persimmon trees to the bottoms of all -the deep, dark holes that need looking into, along the route. - -Peculiar!--So, at least, a dog with an orderly mind and well-regulated -habits thinks, anyhow. For a 'possum trail will give a good rabbit dog -the blues; he hasn't the patience for it. Only a slow rheumatic old -hound will stick to a 'possum trail with the endurance necessary to -carry it to its end--in a hollow log, or a hollow stump, or under a -shock of corn or a rail-pile. Once the trail actually led me, after -much trouble, into a hen-house and into a stove in the hen-house, -where, upon the grate, I found three 'possums in their nest! - -It is a peculiar sport, this 'possum-hunting; yet it is mildly -exciting; and when you get your 'possum by the tail, he smiles at -you--grins, I ought to say--and has a fit. To go hunting for a -creature that smiles at you in a dreadful manner when you capture him, -that flops down in a dead faint or has a fit when you take him up by -the tail, that shows the spunk and fight of a boiled cabbage--to go -hunting for such a beast must be exciting, as exciting as going to the -store for a quart of beans. - -But here are the winter woods at night, and the wide, moonlit fields, -covered, it may be, with the glistening snow. The full, round moon -rides high overhead, the pointed corn-shocks stand silent over the -fields, the woods rise dark and shadowy beyond. Only the slow, musical -cry of the hound echoes through the stirless air, which seems to -sparkle like the snow, as if filled with gleaming frost-dust that only -the moonlight can catch and set to glancing silvery-bright. - -You don't care whether you catch a 'possum or not; you are abroad in a -world so large and silent, so crystal-clear and shining, so crisp, so -open, so acreep with shadows, so deep and mysterious in its distances, -so pure and beautiful and unblemished, that just to be abroad is -wonder enough, and you are not sorry to come back under the brilliant -midnight sky with the old dog at your heels and over your shoulder an -empty bag. - -But if your bag is heavy with fat 'possum then that, too, is good. You -have peered into his black hole; you have reached in and pulled him -out--nothing more. No roar of a gun has shattered your world of -crystal; you have killed nothing, wounded nothing--no, not even the -silence and the serenity of your soul. You and the clear, calm night -are still one. - -You have dropped a smiling 'possum into an easy, roomy bag. He feels -warm against your back. The old dog follows proud and content at your -heels. And you feel--as the wide, softly shining sky seems to feel. - -And that, too, is peculiar. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A FEBRUARY FRESHET - - -One of the very interesting events in my out-of-door year is the -February freshet. Perhaps you call it the February _thaw_. That is all -it could be called this year; and, in fact, a _thaw_ is all that it -ever is for me, nowadays, living, as I do, high and dry here, on -Mullein Hill, above a sputtering little trout brook that could not -have a freshet if it tried. - -But Maurice River could have a freshet without trying. Let the high -south winds, the high tides, and the warm spring rains come on -together, let them drive in hard for a day and a night, as I have -known them to do, and the deep, dark river goes mad! The tossing tide -sweeps over the wharves, swirls about the piles of the great bridge, -leaps foaming into the air, and up and down its long high banks beats -with all its wild might to break through into the fertile meadows -below. - -There are wider rivers, and other, more exciting things, than spring -freshets; but there were not when I was a boy. Why, Maurice River was -so wide that there was but a single boy in the town, as I remember, -who could stand at one end of the drawbridge and skim an oyster-shell -over to the opposite end! The best that I could do was to throw my -voice across and hear it echo from the long, hollow barn on the other -bank. It would seem to me to strike the barn in the middle, leap from -end to end like a creature caged, and then bound back to me faint and -frightened from across the dark tide. - -I feared the river. Oh, but I loved it, too. Its tides were always -rising or falling--going down to the Delaware Bay and on to the sea. -And in from the bay, or out to the bay, with white sails set, the big -boats were always moving. And when they had gone, out over the wide -water the gulls or the fish hawks would sail, or a great blue heron, -with wings like the fans of an old Dutch mill, would beat ponderously -across. - -I loved the river. I loved the sound of the calking-maul and the adze -in the shipyard, and the smell of the chips and tarred oakum; the -chatter of the wrens among the reeds and calamus; the pink of the -mallow and wild roses along the high mud banks; the fishy ditches with -their deep sluiceways through the bank into the river; and the vast, -vast tide-marshes that, to this day, seem to me to stretch away to the -very edge of the world. - -What a world for a boy to drive cows into every morning, and drive -them home from every night, as I used to help do! or to trap muskrats -in during the winter; to go fishing in during the summer; to go -splashing up and down in when the great February freshet came on! - -For of all the events of the year, none had such fascination for me as -the high winds and warm downpour that flooded the wharves, that drove -the men of the village out to guard the river-banks, and that drowned -out of their burrows and winter hiding-places all the wild things that -lived within reach of the spreading tide. - -The water would pour over the meadows and run far back into the swamps -and farm lands, setting everything afloat that could float--rails, -logs, branches; upon which, as chance offered, some struggling -creature would crawl, and drift away to safety. - -But not always to safety; for over the meadows the crows and fish -hawks, gulls, herons, bitterns, and at night the owls, were constantly -beating to pounce upon the helpless voyagers, even taking the -muskrats an easy prey, through their weakness from exposure and long -swimming in the water. - -There would be only two shores to this wild meadow-sea--the -river-bank, a mere line of earth drawn through the water, and the -distant shore of the upland. If the wind blew from the upland toward -the bank, then the drift would all set that way, and before long a -multitude of shipwrecked creatures would be tossed upon this narrow -breakwater, that stood, a bare three feet of clay, against the wilder -river-sea beyond. - -To walk up and down the bank then was like entering a natural history -museum where all the specimens were alive; or like going to a small -menagerie. Sparrows, finches, robins, mice, moles, voles, shrews, -snakes, turtles, squirrels, muskrats, with even a mink and an opossum -now and then, would scurry from beneath your feet or dive back into -the water as you passed along. - -And by what strange craft they sometimes came! I once saw two muskrats -and a gray squirrel floating along on the top of one of the muskrats' -houses. And again a little bob-tailed meadow mouse came rocking along -in a drifting catbird's nest which the waves had washed from its -anchorage in the rosebushes. And out on the top of some tall stake, or -up among the limbs of a tree you would see little huddled bunches of -fur, a muskrat perhaps that had never climbed before in his life, -waiting, like a sailor lashed to the rigging, to be taken off. - -But it was not the multitude of wild things--birds, beasts, -insects--that fascinated me most, that led me out along the slippery, -dangerous bank through the swirling storm; it was rather the fear and -confusion of the animals, the wild giant-spirit raging over the face -of the earth and sky, daunting and terrifying them, that drew me. - -Many of the small creatures had been wakened by the flood out of their -deep winter sleep, and, dazed and numbed and frightened, they seemed -to know nothing, to care for nothing but the touch of the solid earth -to their feet. - -All of their natural desires and instincts, their hatreds, hungers, -terrors, were sunk beneath the waters. They had lost their wits, like -human creatures in a panic, and, struggling, fighting for a foothold, -they did not notice me unless I made at them, and then only took to -the water a moment to escape the instant peril. - -The sight was strange, as if this were another planet and not our -orderly, peaceful world at all. Nor, indeed, was it; for fear cowered -everywhere, in all the things that were of the earth, as over the -earth and everything upon it raged the fury of river and sky. - -The frail mud bank trembled under the beating of the waves; the sunken -sluices strangled and shook deep down through the whirlpools sucking -at their mouths; the flocks of scattered sea-birds--ducks and -brant--veered into sight, dashed down toward the white waters or drove -over with mad speed, while the winds screamed and the sky hung black -like a torn and flapping sail. - -And I, too, would have to drop upon all fours, with the mice and -muskrats, and cling to the bank for my life, as the snarling river, -leaping at me, would plunge clear over into the meadow below. - -A winter blizzard is more deadly, but not more fearful, nor so wild -and tumultuous. For in such a storm as this the foundations of the -deep seem to be broken up, the frame of the world shaken, and you, and -the mice, and the muskrats, share alike the wild, fierce spirit and -the fear. - -To be out in such a storm, out where you can feel its full fury, as -upon a strip of bank in the midst of the churning waters, is good for -one. To experience a common peril with your fellow mortals, though -they be only mice and muskrats, is good for one; for it is to share -by so much in their humble lives, and by so much to live outside of -one's own little self. - -And then again, we are so accustomed to the order and fair weather of -our part of the globe, that we get to feel as if the universe were -being particularly managed for us; nay, that we, personally, are -managing the universe. To flatten out on a quaking ridge of earth or -be blown into the river; to hear no voice but the roar of the storm, -and to have no part or power in the mighty tumult of such a storm, -makes one feel about the size of a mouse, makes one feel how vast is -the universe, and how fearful the vortex of its warring forces! - -The shriek of those winds is still in my ears, the sting of the -driving rains still on my face, the motion of that frail mud bank, -swimming like a long sea-serpent in the swirling waters, I can still -feel to my finger-tips. And the growl of the river, the streaming -shreds of the sky, the confusion beneath and about me, the mice and -muskrats clinging with me for a foothold--I live it all again at the -first spatter of a February rain upon my face. - -To be out in a February freshet, out in a big spring break-up, is to -get a breaking up one's self, a preparation, like Nature's, for a new -lease of life--for spring. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A BREACH IN THE BANK - - -The February freshet had come. We had been expecting it, but no one -along Maurice River had ever seen so wild and warm and ominous a -spring storm as this. So sudden and complete a break-up of winter no -one could remember; nor so high a tide, so rain-thick and driving a -south wind. It had begun the night before, and now, along near noon, -the river and meadows were a tumult of white waters, with the gale so -strong that one could hardly hold his own on the drawbridge that -groaned from pier to pier in the grip of the maddened storm. - -It was into the teeth of this gale that a small boy dressed in large -yellow "oil-skins" made his slow way out along the narrow bank of the -river toward the sluices that controlled the tides of the great -meadows. - -The boy was _in_ the large yellow oil-skins; not dressed, no, for he -was simply inside of them, his feet and hands and the top of his head -having managed to work their way out. It seems, at least, that his -head was partly out, for on the top of the oil-skins sat a large black -sou'wester. And in the arms of the oil-skins lay an old army musket, -so big and long that it seemed to be walking away with the oil-skins, -as the oil-skins seemed to be walking away with the boy. - -I can feel the kick of that old musket yet, and the prick of the dried -sand-burs among which she knocked me. I can hear the rough rasping of -the chafing legs of those oil-skins too, though I was not the boy this -time inside of them. But I knew the boy who was, a real boy; and I -know that he made his careful way along the trembling river-bank out -into the sunken meadows, meadows that later on I saw the river burst -into and claim--and it still claims them, as I saw only last summer, -when after thirty years of absence I once more stood at the end of -that bank looking over a watery waste which was once the richest of -farm lands. - -Never, it seemed, had the village known such wind and rain and such a -tide. It was a strange, wild scene from the drawbridge--wharves -obliterated, river white with flying spume and tossing ice-cakes, the -great bridge swaying and shrieking in the wind, and over everything -the blur of the swirling rain. - -The little figure in yellow oil-skins was not the only one that had -gone along the bank since morning, for a party of men had carefully -inspected every foot of the bank to the last sluice, for fear that -there might be a weak spot somewhere. Let a breach occur with such a -tide as this and it could never be stopped. - -And now, somewhat past noon, the men were again upon the bank. As they -neared Five-Forks sluice, the central and largest of the water-gates, -they heard a smothered _boom_ above the scream of the wind in their -ears. They were startled; but it was only the sound of a gun somewhere -off in the meadow. It was the gun of the boy in the oil-skins. - -Late that afternoon Doctor "Sam," driving home along the flooded road -of the low back swamp, caught sight, as he came out in view of the -river, of a little figure in yellow oil-skins away out on the meadow. - -The doctor stopped his horse and hallooed. But the boy did not hear. -The rain on his coat, the wind and the river in his ears drowned every -other sound. - -The dusk was falling, and as the doctor looked out over the wild -scene, he put his hands to his mouth and called again. The yellow -figure had been blotted out by the rain. There was no response, and -the doctor drove on. - -Meanwhile the boy in the yellow oil-skins was splashing slowly back -along the narrow, slippery clay bank. He was wet, but he was warm, and -he loved the roar of the wind and the beat of the driving rain. - -As the mist and rain were fast mixing with the dusk of the twilight, -he quickened his steps. His path in places was hardly a foot wide, -covered with rose and elder bushes mostly, but bare in spots where -holes and low worn stretches had been recently built up with cubes of -the tough blue mud of the flats. - -The tide was already even with the top of the bank and was still -rising. It leaped and hit at his feet as he picked his way along. The -cakes of white ice crunched and heeled up against the bank with here -and there one flung fairly across his path. The tossing water -frequently splashed across. Twice he jumped places where the tide was -running over down into the meadows below. - -How quickly the night had come! It was dark when he reached -Five-Forks sluice--the middle point in the long, high bank. While -still some distance off he heard the sullen roar of the big sluice, -through which the swollen river was trying to force its way. - -He paused to listen a moment. He knew the peculiar voice of every one -of these gateways, as he knew every foot of the river-bank. - -There was nothing wrong with the sullen roar. But how deep and -threatening! He could _feel_ the sound even better than he could hear -it, far down below him. He started forward, to pass on, when he half -felt, through the long, regular throbbing of the sluice, a shorter, -faster, closer quiver, as of a small running stream in the bank very -near his feet. - -Dropping quickly to his knees, he laid his ear to the wet earth. A -cold, black hand seemed to seize upon him. He heard the purr of -running water! - -It must be down about three feet. He could distinctly feel it tearing -through. - -Without rising he scrambled down the meadow side of the bank to see -the size of the breach. He could hear nothing of it for the boiling at -the gates of the sluice. It was so dark he could scarcely see. But -near the bottom the mud suddenly caved beneath his feet, and a rush of -cold water caught at his knees. - -The hole was greater than he feared. - -Crawling back to the top of the bank, he leaned out over the river -side. A large cake of ice hung in water in front of him. He pushed it -aside and, bending until his face barely cleared the surface of the -river, he discovered a small sucking eddy, whose swirling hole he knew -ran into the breach. - -He edged farther out and reached down under the water and touched the -upper rim of the hole. How large might it be? Swinging round, he dug -his fingers into the bank and lowered himself feet first until he -stood in the hole. It was the size of a small bucket, but he could -almost feel it going beneath his feet, and a sudden terror took hold -upon him. - -He was only a boy, and the dark night, the wild river, the vast, -sweeping storm, the roar and tremor and tumult flattened him for a -moment to the ridge of the bank in a panic of fear! - -But he heard the water running, he felt the bank going directly -beneath where he lay, and getting to his feet he started for the -village. A single hasty step and, but for the piles of the sluice, he -would have plunged into the river. - -He must feel his way; but he never could do it in time to save the -bank. The breach must be stopped at once. He must stop it and keep it -stopped until the next patrol brought help. - -Feeling his way back, he dropped again upon his hands and knees above -the breach to think for a moment. The cake of ice hung as before in -the eddy. Catching it, he tipped it and thrust it down across the -mouth of the hole, but it slipped from his cold fingers and dived -away. He pushed down the butt of his musket, turned it flat, but it -was not broad enough to cover the opening. Then he lowered himself -again, and stood in it, wedging the musket in between his boots; but -he could feel the water still tearing through at the sides, and eating -all the faster. - -He clambered back to the top of the bank, put his hand to his mouth -and shouted. The only answer was the scream of the wind and the cry of -a brant passing overhead. - -Then the boy laughed. "Easy enough," he muttered, and, picking up the -musket, he leaned once more out over the river and thrust the steel -barrel of the gun hard into the mud just below the hole. Then, -stepping easily down, he sat squarely into the breach, the gun like a -stake in front of him sticking up between his knees. - -Then he laughed again, as he caught his breath, for he had squeezed -into the hole like a stopper into a bottle, his big oil-skins filling -the breach completely. - -The water stood above the middle of his breast, and the tide was still -rising. Darkness had now settled, but the ghostly ice-cakes, tipping, -slipping toward him, were spectral white. He had to shove them back as -now and then one rose before his face. The sky was black, and the deep -water below him was blacker. And how cold it was! - -Doctor Sam had been stopped by the flooded roads on his way home, and -lights shone in the windows as he entered the village. He turned a -little out of his way and halted in front of a small cottage near the -bridge. - -"Is Joe here?" he asked. - -"No," answered the mother; "he went down the meadow for muskrats and -has not returned yet. He's probably over with the men at the store." - -Doctor Sam drove on to the store. - -There was no boy in yellow oil-skins in the store. - -Doctor Sam picked up a lighted lantern. - -"Come on," he said; "I'm wet, but I want a look at those sluices," and -started for the river, followed immediately by the men, whom he led in -single file out along the bank. - -Swinging his lantern low, he pushed into the teeth of the gale at a -pace that left the line of lights straggling far behind. - -"What a night!" he growled. "If I had a boy of my own--" and he threw -the light as far as he could over the seething river and then down -over the flooded meadow. - -Ahead he heard the roar of Five-Forks sluice, and swung his lantern -high, as if to signal it, so like the rush of a coming train was the -sound of the waters. - -But the little engineer in yellow oil-skins could not see the signal. -He had almost ceased to watch. With his arm cramped about his gun, he -was still at his post; but the ice-cakes floated in and touched him; -the water no longer felt cold. - -On this side, then on that, out over the swollen river, down into the -tossing meadow flared the lantern as the doctor worked his way along. - -Above the great sluice he paused a moment, then bent his head to the -wind and started on, when his foot touched something soft that yielded -strangely, sending a shiver over him, and his light fell upon a bunch -of four dead muskrats lying in the path. - -Along the meadow side flashed the lantern, up and over the riverside, -and Doctor Sam, reaching quickly down, drew a limp little form in -yellow oil-skins out of the water, as the men behind him came up. - -A gurgle, a hiss, a small whirlpool sucking at the surface,--and the -tide was again tearing through the breach that the boy had filled. - -The men sprang quickly to their task, and did it well, while Doctor -Sam, shielding the limp little form from the wind, forced a vial of -something between the white lips, saying over to himself as he watched -the closed eyes open, "If I had a boy of my own--If I had a boy--" - - * * * * * - -No, Doctor Sam never had a boy of his own; but he always felt, I -think, that the boy of those yellow oil-skins was somehow pretty -nearly his. - - * * * * * - -After a long, cold winter how I love the spatter on my face of the -first February rain! The little trout brook below me foams and -sometimes overruns the road, and as its small noise ascends the hill, -I can hear--the wind on a great river, the wash of waves against a -narrow bank, and the muffled roar of quaking sluices as when a -February freshet is on. - -[Illustration: "DREW A LIMP LITTLE FORM OUT OF THE WATER"] - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A CHAPTER OF THINGS TO HEAR THIS WINTER - - -I - -You should hear the three great silences of winter: the wide, sudden -silence that falls at twilight on the coming of the first winter -frost; the smothered hush that waits the breaking of a winter storm; -the crystal stillness, the speech of the stars, that pervades earth -and sky on a brilliant, stirless winter night. You should hear--or is -it _feel_?--them all. - - -II - -So should you hear the great voices of the winter: the voice of the -north wind; the voice of a pine forest; the voice of the surf on a -stormy shore. There is no music that I know like the wild mighty music -of the winter winds in the winter woods. It will often happen that you -can pass through a bare stretch of naked hardwoods immediately into a -grove of thick-limbed spruces or pines. Never miss such an -opportunity. Do not let the high winds of this winter blow on and away -without your hearing them--at least once--as they sweep through the -hardwoods on into the deep resounding pines. - - -III - -Did you ever hear the running, rumbling, reverberating sound of the -shore-to-shore split of a wide sheet of new ice? You will hear it as -the sun rises over the pond, as the tide turns in the ice-bound river, -and when the ice contracts with falling temperature,--a startling bolt -of sound, a quake, that cleaves the ice across and splits its way into -the heart of the frozen hills. - - -IV - -One of the most unnatural of all the sounds out-of-doors is the -clashing, glassy rattle of trees ice-coated and shaken by the wind. It -is as if you were in some weird china shop, where the curtains, the -very clothes of the customers, were all of broken glass. It is the -rattle of death, not of life; no, rather it is the rustle of the -ermine robe of Winter, as he passes crystal-booted down his crystal -halls. - - -V - -If winter is the season of large sounds, it is also the season of -small sounds, for it is the season of wide silence when the slightest -of stirrings can be heard. Three of these small sounds you must listen -for this winter: the smothered _tinkle-tunkle_ of water running under -thin ice, as where the brook passes a pebbly shallow; then the -_tick-tick-tick_ of the first snowflakes hitting the brown leaves on -a forest floor; then the fine sharp scratch of a curled and toothed -beech leaf skating before a noiseless breath of wind over the crusty -snow. Only he that hath ears will hear these sounds, speaking, as they -do, for the vast voiceless moments of the winter world. - - -VI - -I have not heard the "covey call" of the quail this winter. But there -is not a quail left alive in all the fields and sprout-lands within -sound of me. I used to hear them here on Mullein Hill; a covey used to -roost down the wooded hillside in front of the house; but even they -are gone--hunted out of life; shot and eaten off of my small world. -What a horribly hungry animal man is! - -But you may have the quail still in your fields. If so, then go out -toward dusk on a quiet, snowy day, especially if you have heard -shooting in the fields that day, and try to hear some one of the covey -calling the flock together: _Whir-r-rl-ee! Whir-r-rl-ee! -Whirl-ee-gee!_--the sweetest, softest, tenderest call you will ever -hear! - - -VII - -And you certainly do have chickadees in your woods. If so, then go out -any time of day, but go on a cold, bleak, blustery day, when -everything is a-shiver, and, as Uncle Remus would say, "meet up" with -a chickadee. It is worth having a winter, just to meet a chickadee in -the empty woods and hear him call--a little pin-point of live sound, -an undaunted, unnumbed voice interrupting the thick jargon of the -winter to tell you that all this bluster and blow and biting cold -can't get at the heart of a bird that must weigh, all told, with all -his winter feathers on, fully--an ounce or two! - - -VIII - -And then the partridge--you must hear him, bursting like a bottled -hurricane from the brown leaves at your feet! - - -IX - -Among the sweet winter sounds, that are as good to listen to as the -songs of the summer birds, you should hear: the loud joyous cackling -of the hens on a sunny January day; the munching of horses at night -when the wild winds are whistling about the barn; the quiet hum about -the hives,-- - - "When come the calm mild days, as still such days will come, - To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home." - -And then, the sound of the first rain on the shingles--the first -February rain after a long frozen period! How it spatters the shingles -with _spring--spring--spring!_ - -[Illustration: "ONE OF THE COVEY CALLING THE FLOCK TOGETHER"] - - -X - -It was in the latter end of December, upon a gloomy day that was heavy -with the oppression of a coming storm. In the heart of the maple swamp -all was still and cold and dead. Suddenly, as out of a tomb, I heard -the small, thin cry of a tiny tree-frog. And how small and thin it -sounded in the vast silences of that winter swamp! And yet how clear -and ringing! A thrill of life tingling out through the numb, nerveless -body of the woods that has ever since made a dead day for me -impossible. - -Have you heard him yet? - - -XI - -"After all," says some one of our writers, "it is only a matter of -which side of the tree you stand on, whether it is summer or winter." -Just so. But, after all, is it not a good thing to stand on the winter -side during the winter? to have a winter while we have it, and then -have spring? No shivering around on the spring side of the tree for -me. I will button up my coat, brace my back against the winter side -and shout to the hoary old monarch-- - - "And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, - And gie's a hand o' thine;" - -and what a grip he has! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE LAST DAY OF WINTER - - -According to the almanac March 21st is the last day of winter. The -almanac is not always to be trusted--not for hay weather, or picnic -weather, or sailing weather; but you can always trust it for March -21st weather. Whatever the weather man at Washington predicts about -it, whatever comes,--snow, sleet, slush, rain, wind, or frogs and -sunshine,--March 21st _is_ the last day of winter. - -The sun "crosses the line" that day; spring crosses with him; and I -cross over with the spring. - -Let it snow! I have had winter enough. Let the wind rage! It cannot -turn back the sun; it cannot blow away the "equinoctial line"; it -cannot snow under my determination to have done, here and now, with -winter! - -The sun crosses to my side of the Equator on the 21st of March; there -is nothing in the universe that can stop him. I cross over the line -with him; and there is nothing under the sun that can stop me. When -you want it to be spring, if you have the sun on your side of the line -you can have spring. Hitching your wagon to a star is a very great -help in getting along; but having the big sun behind you-- - - "When descends on the Atlantic - The gigantic - Storm-wind of the equinox" - -is a tremendous help in ridding you of a slow and, by this time, -wearisome winter, storm-wind and all. - -Almanacs are not much to trust in; but if ever you prize one, it is on -the 21st of March,--that is, if you chance to live in New England. Yet -you can get along without the almanac--even in New England. Hang it up -under the corner of the kitchen mantelpiece and come out with me into -the March mud. We are going to find the signs of spring, the proofs -that this is the last day of winter, that the sun is somewhere in the -heavens and on _this_ side of the equatorial line. - -Almanac or no, and with all other signs snowed under, there are still -our bones! Spring is in our bones. I cannot tell you how it gets into -them, nor describe precisely how it feels. But, then, I do not need -to. For you feel it in _your_ bones too--a light, hollow feeling, as -if your bones were birds' bones, and as if you could flap your arms -and fly! - -Only that you feel it more in your feet; and you will start and run, -like the Jungle-folk, like Mowgli--run, run, run! Oh, it is good to -have bones in your body, young bones with the "spring-running," in -their joints, instead of the grit of rheumatism to stiffen and cripple -you! - -The roads are barely thawed. The raw wind is penetrating, and we need -our greatcoats to keep out the cold. But look! A flock of -robins--twenty of them, dashing into the cedars, their brown breasts -glowing warm and red against the dull sky and the dark green of the -trees! And wait--before we go down the hill--here behind the barn--no, -there he dives from the telephone wire--Phoebe! He has just gotten -back, and is simply killing time now (and insects too), waiting for -Mrs. Phoebe to arrive, and housekeeping to begin. - -Don't move! There in the gray clouds--two soaring, circling hen-hawks! -_Kee-ee-you!_ _Kee-ee-you!_ Round and round they go, their shrill, -wild whistle piercing the four quarters of the sky and tingling down -the cold spine of every forest tree and sapling, stirring their life -blood until it seems to run red into their tops. - -For see the maple swamp off yonder--the ashy gray of the boles, a -cold steel-color two thirds of the way toward the top, but there -changing into a faint garnet, a flush of warmth and life that seems -almost to have come since morning! - -Let us go on now, for I want to get some watercress from the -brook--the first green growing thing for the table thus far!--and some -pussy-willows for the same table, only not to eat. (There are many -good things in this world that are not good to eat.) If the sun were -shining I should take you by way of the beehives to show you, dropping -down before their open doors, a few eager bees bringing home baskets -of pollen from the catkins of the hazelnut bushes. The hazelnut bushes -are in bloom! Yes, in bloom! No, the skunk-cabbages are not out yet, -nor the hepaticas, nor the arbutus; but the hazelnut bushes are in -bloom, and--see here, under the rye straw that covers the -strawberry-bed--a small spreading weed, green, and cheerily starred -with tiny white flowers! - -It is the 21st of March; the sun has crossed the line; the phoebes -have returned; and here under the straw in the garden the -chickweed,--_starwort_,--first of the flowers, is in blossom! - -But come on; I am not going back yet. This is the last day of winter. -Cold? Yes, it is cold, raw, wretched, gloomy, with snow still in the -woods, with frost still in the ground, and with not a frog or hyla -anywhere to be heard. But come along. This is the last day of -winter--of winter? No, no, it is the first day of spring. Robins back, -phoebes back, watercress for the table, chickweed in blossom, and a -bird's nest with eggs in it! Winter? Spring? Birds' eggs, did I say? - -The almanac is mixed again. It always is. Who's Who in the Seasons -when all of this is happening on the 21st of March? For here is the -bird's nest with eggs in it, just as I said. - -Watch the hole up under that stub of a limb while I tap on the trunk. -How sound asleep! But I will wake them. _Rap-rap-rap!_ There he -comes--the big barred owl! - -Climb up and take a peek at the eggs, but don't you dare to touch -them! Of course you will not. I need not have been so quick and severe -in my command; for, if we of this generation do not know as much about -some things as our fathers knew, we do at least know better than they -that the owls are among our best friends and are to be most jealously -protected. - -Climb up, I say, and take a peek at those round white eggs, and -tell me, Is it spring or winter? Is it the last day, or the first -day, or the first and last in one? What a high mix-up is the -weather--especially this New England sort! - -But look at that! A snowflake! Yes, it is beginning to snow--with the -sun crossing the line! It is beginning to snow, and down with the -first flakes, like a bit of summer sky drops a bluebird, calling -softly, sweetly, with notes that melt warm as sunshine into our -hearts. - -"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone." But see how -it snows! Yes, but see-- - - The willows gleam with silver light; - The maples crimson glow-- - The first faint streaks on winter's east, - Far-off and low. - - The northward geese, with winged wedge, - Have split the frozen skies, - And called the way for weaker wings, - Where midnight lies. - - To-day a warm wind wakes the marsh; - I hear the hylas peep - And o'er the pebbly ford, unbound, - The waters leap. - - The lambs bleat from the sheltered folds; - Low whispers spread the hills: - The rustle of the spring's soft robes - The forest fills. - - The night, ah me! fierce flies the storm - Across the dark dead wold; - The swift snow swirls; and silence falls - On stream and fold. - - All white and still lie stream and hill-- - The winter dread and drear! - Then from the skies a bluebird flies - And--spring is here! - - - - -NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS - - -CHAPTER I - -TO THE TEACHER - - "It must be a lovely place _in the summer_!" the dull and - irritating often say to me, referring to my home in the country. - What they mean is, of course, "How wretched a place the country - is in winter!" But that attitude toward winter grows less and - less common. We are learning how to enjoy the winter; and it is - my hope that this volume may distinctly contribute to the - knowledge that makes for that joy. Behind such joy is love, and - behind the love is understanding, and behind the understanding - is knowledge. - - The trouble with those who say they hate winter is a lack of - knowledge. They do not know the winter; they never tramp the - woods and fields in winter; they have no calendar of the rare, - the high-festival days of winter. - - Such a day is the one of this opening chapter--"Hunting the - Snow." And the winter is full of them; as full as the summer, I - had almost said! The possibilities of winter for nature-study, - for tramps afield, for outdoor sport--for joy and health and - knowledge and poetry are quite as good as those of summer. Try - it this winter. Indeed, let the coldest, dullest, deadest day - this winter challenge you to discover to yourself and to your - pupils some sight, some sound, some happening, or some thought - of the world outside that shall add to their small - understanding, or touch their ready imaginations, or awaken - their eager love for Nature. - - And do not let the rarer winter days pass (such as the day that - follows the first snow-fall) without your taking them or sending - them a-hunting the snow, else you will fail in duty as - grievously as you would if you allowed a child to finish his - public-school education without hearing of Bunker Hill. - - In reading this first chapter lay emphasis upon: (1) the real - excitement possible without a gun in such a hunt; (2) the - keener, higher kind of joy in watching a live animal than in - killing it; (3) the unfairness of hunting to kill; (4) the rapid - extinction of our wild animals, largely caused by guns; (5) the - necessity now for protection--for every pupil's doing all he can - to protect wild life everywhere. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Study the drawings of the tracks in this chapter, then go into - the woods and try to identify the tracks you find in the snow. - Every track you discover and identify will be quarry in your - bag--just as truly as though you had killed a deer or a moose or - a bear. You can all turn snow-hunters without leaving blood and - pain and death and emptiness and silence behind you. And it is - just as good and exciting sport. - -PAGE 4 - - _cushion-marked holes:_ Examine a cat's feet. Make a study of - cat tracks: how they are placed; how wide apart; how they look - when she walks, when she runs, when she jumps, when she gathers - herself together for a spring. You can learn the art of - snow-hunting by studying the tracks of the cat in your own - dooryards. - - _wood pussy_: a polite name in New England for the skunk. - -PAGE 5 - - _the great northern hare:_ The northern hare is not often seen - here, and I am not sure but that this may be the common brown - rabbit. - -PAGE 8 - - _slashings:_ The name for the waste limbs and tops left after - cutting forest trees. Tree wardens should compel the - woodchoppers to pile this brush up as they cut and burn it while - the snow is on the ground to prevent forest fires in summer. - - _hazelnuts_: small brown nuts like the filberts of the stores. - They grow on a bush two to six feet high. There are two - kinds,--common hazelnut and beaked hazelnut. The green husk - looks like a cap, hence its Saxon name _haesle_, a cap, and the - scientific name _Corylus_ from the Greek _corys_, a helmet. - -PAGE 9 - - _Burns:_ Robert Burns, the Scotch poet. - -PAGE 10 - - _root and all, and all in all_: from a poem by Lord Tennyson - called "Flower in the Crannied Wall." - -PAGE 11 - - _Atalanta's race:_ Look up the story of the beautiful girl - runner who lost her race with her lover because of her desire to - pick up a golden apple. - -PAGE 14 - - _Two mighty wings_: an owl's wing marks, perhaps the barred owl - or the great horned owl, or the snowy owl, which sometimes comes - down from the north in the winter. - - -CHAPTER II - -TO THE TEACHER - - This herding and driving of turkeys to market is common in other - sections of the country, particularly in Kentucky. I have told - the story (as told to me by one who saw the flock) in order to - bring out the force of instinct and habit, and the unreasoning - nature of the animal mind as compared with man's. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 15 - - _Shepherd-dog:_ Only a well-trained dog would do, for turkeys - are very timid and greatly afraid of a strange dog. - -PAGE 18 - - _Black Creek_: a local name; not in the Geography. - -PAGE 26 - - _a chorus of answering gobbles:_ Turkeys will follow their - leader. It was this habit or trait that the boys now made use - of. - - -CHAPTER III - -TO THE TEACHER - - There is a three-pronged point to this chapter: (1) the empty - birds' nests are not things to mourn over. The birds are safe - and warm down south; and they will build fresh, clean nests when - they get back. Teach your children to see things as they - are--the wholesomeness, naturalness, wisdom, and poetry of - Nature's arrangement. The poets are often sentimental; and most - sentimentality is entirely misplaced. (2) The nest abandoned by - the bird may be taken up by the mouse. The deadest, commonest of - things may prove full of life and interest upon close - observation. Summer may go; but winter comes and brings its own - interests and rewards. So does youth go and old age come. There - is nothing really abandoned in nature--nothing utterly lacking - interest. (3) A mouse is not a Bengal tiger; but he is a whole - mouse and in the _completeness_ of his life just as large and - interesting as the tiger. If the small, the common, the things - right at hand, are not interesting, it is not their fault--not - the mouse's fault--but _ours_. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 30 - - _white-foot_: the deer, or wood mouse (_Peromyscus leucopus_). - -PAGE 32 - - "_There are no birds in last year's nest_": a line from a poem - by Longfellow called "It is not always May." - -PAGE 33 - - _Darwin's book on earthworms:_ Read in this book how the worms - make garden soil. - - -CHAPTER IV - -TO THE TEACHER - - If you have at hand "The Fall of the Year," read again the - suggestions on page 112 for the chapter on "Things to See this - Fall," making use of this chapter as you did of that (1) as the - object of a field excursion--or of several excursions until all - the things suggested here have been seen; (2) as a test of the - pupil's actual study of nature; for there is scarcely a city - child who cannot get far enough into nature (though he get no - farther than the city park), and often enough to see most of the - things pointed out in this chapter; (3) as suggestions for - further study and observation by the pupils--things that they - have seen which might be added to these ten here, and written - about for composition work in English. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Here are ten different things for you to see this winter, and - most of them, whether you live in the city or country, you can - see, provided you live where the snow falls. But you will have - some kind of a winter no matter where you live. Don't miss - it--its storms, its birds, its animals, its coasting, skating, - snowshoeing, its invitations to tramp the frozen marshes and - deep swamps where you cannot go in the summer, and where, on the - snow you will catch many a glimpse of wild life that the rank - summer sedges will never reveal. Don't stop with these ten - suggestions; there are a hundred other interesting things to - see. And as you see them, write about them. - - -CHAPTER V - -TO THE TEACHER - - Let this chapter be read very close to the Christmas recess, - when your children's minds are full of Christmas thoughts. This - unconventional turn to the woods, this thought of Christmas - among the animals and birds, might easily be the means of - awakening many to an understanding of the deeper, spiritual side - of nature-study--that we find in Nature only what we take to - her; that we get back only what we give. It will be easy for - them to take the spirit of Christmas into the woods because they - are so full of it; and so it will be easy for them to feel the - woods giving it back to them--the very last and best reward of - nature-study. No, don't be afraid that they are incapable of - such lessons, of such thoughts and emotions. Some few may be; - but no teacher ever yet erred by too much faith in the capacity - of her pupils for the higher, deeper things. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 46 - - These lines of poetry you all know. But who can tell who wrote - them? Where did he live and when? - - _gum swamp:_ See description of such a swamp on pages 262-263 of - the author's "Wild Life Near Home." This is the tree known as - sour gum, more properly tupelo (_Nyssa sylvatica_ or - _uniflora_). - - _cardinal grosbeak:_ Commonly called "cardinal," or "redbird." - -PAGE 47 - - _Holy Day:_ What was the oldest form of our word "holiday"? - - _ilex:_ _Ilex verticillata_, the black alder, or winterberry, - one of the holly family. A low swamp bush covered with red - berries all winter. - -PAGE 48 - - _Lupton's Pond:_ A little pond along Cohansey Creek near - Bridgeton, N. J. - - _Persimmon trees_: found from New Haven, Conn., to Florida. - -PAGE 50 - - _Bob Cratchit's goose:_ There never was such a goose, as you all - know who have read Dickens's "Christmas Carol." - -PAGE 52 - - _liquid amber:_ The balsamic juice of the sweet gum tree, - sometimes called "bilsted" (_Liquidambar styraciflua_), a large, - beautiful swamp tree found from Connecticut to Florida and west - to Texas. - -PAGE 53 - - _half-human tracks:_ Because the coon is a relative of the bears - and has a long hind foot that leaves a track much like that of a - small baby. - -PAGE 54 - - _tupelo:_ See note on _gum swamp_, page 141. - - _sour gums_: same as tupelo. - -PAGE 55 - - _chicken or frost grapes_: _Vitis cordifolia_: the smallest, - sourest, best (boy standards) of all our wild grapes. They ripen - _after_ the frost and feed the boys and birds when all other - such fruits have gone from the woods. - - _Smooth winterberry_: is really another ilex, _Ilex laevigata_, a - larger bush than _Ilex verticillata_, the black alder or - winterberry. - -PAGE 56 - - _Fox sparrows:_ See the frontispiece. The largest, most - beautiful of our sparrows. Nests in the Far North. A migrant to - New England and the Southern States. - -PAGE 59 - - _The crows were winging over toward their great roost:_ Don't - fail this winter to spend, if not Christmas Day, then one of - your Christmas vacation days, in the woods, from morning until - the crows go over to their roost. You will never forget that - day. - - -CHAPTER VI - -TO THE TEACHER - - Read to the pupils Emerson's poem "The Titmouse," dwelling on - the lines,-- - - "Here was this atom in full breath, - Hurling defiance at vast death," etc. - - and the part beginning,-- - - "'Tis good will makes intelligence," - - letting the students learn by heart the chickadee's little - song,-- - - "Live out of doors - In the great woods, on prairie floors," etc. - - Poem and chapter ought mutually to help each other. Read the - chapter slowly, explaining clearly as you go on, making it - finally plain that this mere "atom" of life is greater than all - the winter death, no matter how "vast." - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 64 - - "_The Lilac_": My lilac bush with its suet has become a kind of - hotel, or inn, or boarding-house, for the chickadees. - -PAGE 66 - - _Phoe-ee-bee!_: more often the spring call than the winter - call of Chickadee. It is to be distinguished from the - "phoe'be" call of the phoebe, the flycatcher, by its greater - softness and purity, and by its very distinct _middle syllable_, - as if Chickadee said "Phoe'--ee--bee." Phoebe's note is - two-syllabled. - -PAGE 67 - - _protective coloration_: a favorite term with Darwin and many - later naturalists to describe the wonderful harmony in the - colors of animals, insects, etc., and their natural - surroundings, the animal's color blending so perfectly into the - color of its surroundings as to be a protection to the creature. - -PAGE 69 - - _card house_: as if made of cards, easily pushed, even blown - down. - -PAGE 70 - - _the workman's chips:_ Look on the ground under a newly - excavated woodpecker's hole, and you will find his "chips." - -PAGE 73 - - _a tiny window:_ The tough birch-bark would bend readily. I - would shut the window in leaving by means of a long, sharp - thorn. - - -CHAPTER VII - -TO THE TEACHER - - Make a point of going into the winter woods and fields, taking - the pupils as often as possible with you. It may be impossible - for your city children to get the rare chance of glare ice; but - don't miss it if it comes. - - This is the time to start your bird-study; to awaken sympathy - and responsibility in your pupils by teaching them to feed the - birds; to cultivate cheerfulness and the love of "hardness" in - them by breasting with them a bitter winter gale for the pure - joy of it. Use the suggestions here for whatever of - resourcefulness and hardiness you can cultivate in the girls as - well as in the boys. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 79 - - _the good things to read:_ To name only a few of them, we might - mention John Burroughs's "Winter Sunshine" and "Squirrels and - Other Fur-Bearers," Bradford Torrey's "Footing it in Franconia," - Frank Bolles's "At the North of Bearcamp Water," William - Hamilton Gibson's "Eye Spy," William L. Finley's "American - Birds," and Edward Breck's "Wilderness Pets." - - -CHAPTER VIII - -TO THE TEACHER - - I believe this to be one of the most important chapters in the - volume, dark and terrible as its lesson may appear. But grim, - dark death itself is not so dark as fear of the truth. If you - teach nothing else, by precept and example, teach love for the - truth--for the whole truth in nature as everywhere else. Winter - is a fact; let us face it. Death is a fact; let us face it; and - by facing it half of its terror will disappear; nay more, for - something of its deep reasonableness and meaning will begin to - appear, and we shall be no more afraid. The _all_ of this is - beyond a child, as it is beyond us; but the habit of looking - honestly and fearlessly at things must be part of a child's - education, as later on it must be the very sum of it. - - Great tact and fine feeling must be exercised if you happen to - have among the scholars one of the handicapped--one lacking any - part, as the muskrat lacked--lest the application be taken - personally. But let the lesson be driven home: the need every - boy and girl has for a strong, full-membered body,--even for - every one of his teeth,--if he is to live at his physical best. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 83 - - _incisor teeth_: the four long front teeth of the - rodents,--rats, mice, beavers, etc. These incisor teeth, are - heavily enameled with a sharp cutting edge and keep growing - continuously. - -PAGE 85 - - _voles_: meadow mice. - -PAGE 86 - - _chimney swallows_: more properly _swifts_; as these birds do - not belong to the swallow family at all. - - _vermin_: The swifts are generally infested with vermin. - -PAGE 91 - - _clapper rails_: or marsh-hens (_Rallus crepitans_). - -PAGE 92 - - "_List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle_": lines from Burns's - "A Winter Night." - - -CHAPTER IX - -TO THE TEACHER - - Make this chapter, as far as you can, the one in the volume for - most intensive study. Show the pupils how the study of animal - life is connected with geology, tell them of the record of life - in the fossils of the rocks, the kinds of strange beasts that - once inhabited the earth. Show them again how the study of - animals in their anatomy is not the study of one--say of man, - but how man and all the mammals, the reptiles, the birds, the - fishes, the insects, on and on back to the single-celled - amoeba, are all related to each other, all links in one long - wonder chain of life. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - -PAGE 94 - - _Charles Lamb:_ Look up his life in the Encyclopedia. Read for - yourselves his essay on Roast Pig. - - _modus edibilis_: the Latin for "manner of eating." - -PAGE 95 - - _the 'possum's relations:_ They are the marsupials, the pouched - animals, like the kangaroo. - -PAGE 98 - - _reptilian age_: one of the great geological ages or eras, known - to the geologists as the great mesozoic or "middle" epoch, when - reptiles ruled the land and sea. - -PAGE 103 - - _smiles at you--grins:_ Read the account of this habit in the - opening chapter of the author's "Wild Life Near Home." - - -CHAPTER X - -TO THE TEACHER - - This chapter and the next go together--this for the lover of - wild life, the next for the lover of adventure. The spring - freshet is one of the most interesting of the year of days for - animal study--better even than the day after the first snowfall. - But more than this, let both chapters suggest to you how - primitive and elemental the real world is after all; with what - cataclysmal forces the seasons are changed. As summer often - passes into autumn with a silencing frost that rests like a hush - of awe over the land; so winter often gives way to spring with a - rush of wind and tidal powers that seem to shake the foundations - of the world. To feel these forces, to be a part of all these - moods, to share in all these feelings--this, too, is one of the - ends of nature-study. - - -CHAPTER XII - -TO THE TEACHER - - I should like to repeat here the suggestions in "The Fall of the - Year" for this corresponding chapter. I will repeat only: "that - _you_ are the teacher, not the book. The book is but a - suggestion. You begin where it leaves off; you fill out where it - is lacking." For these are not all the sounds of winter; indeed - they may not be the characteristic sounds in your neighborhood. - No matter: the lesson is not this or that sound, but that your - pupils _learn to listen_ for sounds, for the voices of the - season, whatever those voices may be in their own particular - region. The trouble is that we have ears, and literally hear - not, eyes and see not, souls and feel not. Teach your pupils to - use their eyes, ears, yes and _hearts_, and all things else will - be added unto them in the way of education. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - I - - It is the stilling of the insects that makes for the first of - these silences; the hushing of the winds the second; the magic - touch of the cold the third. - - II - - The voice of the great spring storm should be added to these, - and the shriek of the wind about the house. - - III - - You should not only _hear_, but you should also _feel_ this - split--passing with a thrilling shock beneath your feet. - - V - - How many other of the _small_ voices do you know? The chirp of - the kinglets; the scratching of mice in a shock of corn; the---- - but you write a story about them. So listen for yourself. - - VI - - Do all you can to preserve the quail. Don't shoot. - - VIII - - Along toward spring you should hear him "drumming" for a mate--a - rapid motion of his wings much like the hollow sound of a - distant drum. - - -CHAPTER XIII - -TO THE TEACHER - - Do all that you can to teach the signs of the zodiac, the days - of the seasons, and all the doings of the astronomical year. All - that old lore of the skies is in danger of being lost. Some - readers will say: "The author is not consistent! He loves the - winter and here he is impatient to be done with it!" Some - explanation on your part may be necessary: that the call of the - spring is the call of life, a call so loud and strong that all - life--human and wild, animal and vegetable,--hears it and is - impatient to obey. If possible take your scholars upon a walk at - this raw edge of the season when they will feel the chill but - also the stirring of life all about them. - - -FOR THE PUPIL - - Get an almanac and study the old weather signs. - -PAGE 130 - - "_When descends on the Atlantic_": from Longfellow's "Seaweed." - -PAGE 133 - - _frog or hyla_: The hylas belong to the family _Hylidae_ and - include our tree-toad, and our little tree-frog. - - "_For, lo, the winter is past_,": from The Song of Songs, or The - Song of Solomon, in the Bible. - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - U . S . 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