Where Town and Country Meet 



cause it forms a part of the melodic proph 

 ecy of spring. 



I had scarcely entered the woods when 

 in the crumbling, disintegrating snow I 

 found the wiry, nervous, wandering tracks 

 of a ruffed grouse, which had evidently 

 been abroad that very morning, far earlier 

 than I, to seek a breakfast of leaves and 

 berries on the knolls uncovered by the heat 

 of the sun. I followed the winding trail 

 for some distance, but finally it so turned, 

 and doubled, and intertwined with itself, 

 that I lost my clue and had to give it up. 



Everywhere, from the trustworthy record 

 of the snow, it appeared that the squirrels 

 had been on the move likewise, passing from 

 tree to tree with long, joyous leaps, the 

 vigor of spring already in their veins. 

 Many rabbit tracks through the thickets 

 showed where the cotton-tails also had 

 chased each other, like those black lovers 

 in midair. All this awakening and new ac 

 tivity seemed a part of the glad expectation 

 of spring. 



The skunk-cabbage was thrusting its 

 spear point up through the black loam along 

 the brook earliest of all the wild sod- 

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