74 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



the deep woods; I have tramped afield the year 

 around; but since my earliest boyhood it has 

 been with a keener zest 1 in winter than in summer. 



And that is not because I was a boy. A live 

 boy loves the woods ; but so does a live girl. Give 

 a live girl equal chance and she will love every 

 thing that a live boy loves the woods and the 

 winter as though she were a boy. 



No, I love the winter woods, because, to begin 

 with, there is more wideness to the winter, more 

 wildness too. Upland and lowland, field and 

 wood-lot, creek and meadow are thrown wide open 

 and all abandoned, all left to the wild things, to 

 the wayward winds, and to your own wild, way- 

 ward feet. 



Fields where corn and melons grew in sum- 

 mer, and where the farmer kept a suspicious eye 

 upon you as you came near, are forsaken now. 

 .JfThey are yours for the tramping. Their fences 

 'are no dividing line, no barrier, no warning. Do 

 the winter winds mind fences? or the winter 

 snows? or the wings of the winter owls? or the 

 prowling feet of the winter mink? No more do 

 the feet of a boy on the frozen winter fields. 



What of it if all day long you hear no cry of 

 bird, you see no sign of life nothing but the 



