IN THE RIVER MEADS. 



" In the wind of windy March 



The catkins drop down, 

 Curly, caterpillar-like, 



Curious green and brown." ROSSETTI. 



THESE lines recur to my mind as, on a blustering day 

 about the vernal equinox, I start on a short stroll 

 through some water-meadows to a withy eyot close to the 

 river bank. The yet leafless boughs of some tall aspens 

 are waving to and fro overhead, and now and again a big 

 wine-red catkin, which has not yet begun to shed its pollen, 

 is torn off by the breeze and flung at my feet. The day is 

 overcast, and at this season the entomologist thinks rather 

 of hunting for larvae under dead leaves than of capturing 

 the perfect insect. A good deal may still be done by that 

 judicious blending of green treacle and rum, mixed on the 

 spot, that has superseded the " sugaring " of the last half- 

 century. The March Dagger moth may now be met with 

 on stems, and the Light Orange-underwing, the Early 

 Grey, the Clouded Drab and the Hebrew-character moth, 

 especially on willows. The dark grey stems of the alders 

 in this swampy piece of ground seem to accord well with 

 the dull sky, and can hardly be said to be relieved by the 

 dull green of their short, globose catkins, which swing 



