184 Next to the Ground 



Bells before midnight seldom meant more 

 than a stir and fright from casual passing. 

 Sheep-killing dogs know enough to wait until 

 sheep-owners are very sound asleep. But 

 any time between midnight and day, a tinkle 

 even was alarming. 



March had the noise of many waters. A 

 pouring day or a quick thaw made the creek 

 a mad thing, brawling fifty yards wide, snatch- 

 ing at the drifts, gnawing gravel-beds and 

 sand-bars, roaring out hoarse and hollow 

 threats as it raced past bluff and tree. The 

 big horned owls seemed to take the threats as 

 personal. They lived down in the creek val- 

 ley, and, with the stream at flood, hooted from 

 hill to hill all night long. 



In April the swallows came to rumble down 

 the long-necked stone chimneys at dark, and 

 twitter and chitter there the nights through. 

 Tree-toads also began to peep, spasmodically 

 at first, but as the spring strengthened so did 

 the peeping, until it filled the whole night 

 world. It is a long-drawn ululation, in many 

 keys. Tree-toads run all sizes from the spread 

 of your hand to the end of your thumb. Na- 

 ture colors them in protective mimicry of the 

 leaves and trunks they live on and among. 

 The big very flat ones are a clear, young leaf- 

 green. The tiny fellows are greenish gray, 

 for all the world like the lichens upon the oak 



