THE CLICKING CONES 



March 24th 



HILE the skunk-cabbage is pierc- 

 ing the snow in the swamp, and 

 the maple seeds are all on end 

 with the good news which has 

 come to them apparently through 

 the quickened sod, the pine-cones in 

 the tree-tops are firing their salutes to 

 the first spring breeze. 



As early as February I have heard the pitch- 

 pine woods merry with the clicking cones, and 

 seen the fluttering showers of winged seeds fly- 

 ing out upon the snow. To be sure, our botanies mention 

 no such early ripening of the cones, the second autumn 

 after flowering being the stated season for the opening 

 of the scales and release of the seeds. But a pitch-pine 

 wood in any sunny day in early spring is a merry spot 

 nevertheless. Both the Austrian and the Scotch pines, 

 the introduced species of our city parks, are even more 

 lively and communicative. The sharp click of the Aus- 

 trian pine-cone may be distinctly heard two hundred 

 feet from its source, while the hubbub which we may 

 hear beneath a Scotch pine-tree on a warm March day 

 sometimes amounts to a bedlam. 



It is a frequent pastime with me in my winter walks 



