A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



cosy beneath the snowbank in the meadow- 

 bottom, is sodden or afloat. But meadow- 

 mice are not afraid of water. On various 

 occasions I have seen them swimming about 

 the spring pools like muskrats, and, when 

 alarmed, diving beneath the water. Add 

 the golden willows to the full streams, with 

 the red-shouldered starlings perched amid 

 their branches, sending forth their strong, 

 liquid, gurgling notes, and the picture is 

 complete. The willow branches appear to 

 have taken on a deeper yellow in spring; 

 perhaps it is the effect of the stronger sun- 

 shine, perhaps it is the effect of the swift, 

 vital water laving their roots. The epau- 

 lettes of the starlings, too, are brighter than 

 when they left us in the fall, and they ap- 

 pear to get brighter daily until the nest- 

 ing begins. The males arrive many days 

 before the females, and, perched along the 

 marshes and watercourses, send forth their 

 liquid, musical notes, passing the call from 

 one to the other, as if to guide and hurry 

 their mates forward. 



The noise of a brook, you may observe, 



is by no means in proportion to its volume. 



The full March streams make far less noise 



relatively to their size than the shallower 



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