A SHARP LOOKOUT. 25 



nral history of the bees, the birds, the fishes, the ani- 

 mals, the plants, is the result of close, patient, quick- 

 witted observation. Yet Nature will often elude one 

 for all his pains and alertness. Thoreau, as revealed 

 in his journal, was for years trying to settle in his 

 own mind what was the first thing that stirred in 

 spring, after the severe New England winter, in 

 what was the first sign or pulse of returning life man- 

 ifest; and he never seems to have been quite sure. 

 He could not get his salt on the tail of this bird. He 

 dug into the swamps, he peered into the water, he 

 felt with benumbed hands for the radical leaves of 

 the plants under the snow ; he inspected the buds on 

 the willows, the catkins on the alders ; he went out 

 before daylight of a March morning and remained 

 out after dark ; he watched the lichens and mosses on 

 the rocks ; he listened for the birds ; he was on the 

 alert for the first frog (" Can you be absolutely sure," 

 he says, "that you have heard the first frog that 

 croaked in the township ? ") he stuck a pin here and 

 he stuck a pin there, and there, and still he could not 

 satisfy himself. Nor can any one. Life appears to 

 start in several things simultaneously. Of a warm 

 thawy day in February, the snow is suddenly covered 

 with myriads of snow fleas looking like black, new 

 powder just spilled there. Or you may see a winged 

 insect in the air. On the self-same day the grass in 

 the spring run and the catkins on the alders will have 

 started a little, and if you look sharply while passing 

 along some sheltered nook or grassy slope where the 



