TRILLIUMS AND WEENS. 201 



"pe-to," "pe-to," of the tufted tit rings inces- 

 santly in my ears as I rest on a southern sloping 

 hillside, where the blue-grass of last season fell 

 rank and now lies in great brown and sere mats. 



One often finds things of interest while sit- 

 ting still, thought I, as I paused for a few min- 

 utes on the top rail of an old worm fence. In 

 ten seconds my eyes had fallen on the largest 

 snow trillium I had ever seen. It was growing 

 on the side of a sloping bluff which rose from 

 the brink of the stream, and around it were a 

 score of smaller size ; called into blossom on this 

 otherwise bare north hillside by the April sun- 

 shine. Several species of small hymenoptera 

 were busy about them, hovering over the half 

 opened flower of one, gathering pollen from the 

 fully expanded bloom of another. 



Fifty feet farther along a winter wren came 

 into view. With its short brown tail stuck up 

 at right angles to its body it was resting on the 

 roots of a sycamore, against which a pile of 

 driftwood had lodged. Seeing me it began to 

 squat and teeter ; as does a boy or a hen making 

 ready to jump or fly from a high place, yet fear- 



