A SPUING RELISH 179 



ger fondly there. The muskrat is adrift, but not 

 homeless; his range is vastly extended, and he evi- 

 dently rejoices in full streams. Through the tun- 

 nel of the meadow - mouse the water rushes as 

 through a pipe; and that nest of his, that was so 

 warm and cozy 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 sunshine, perhaps it is the effect of the 

 swift vital water laving their roots. The epaulettes 

 of the starlings, too, are brighter than when they 

 left us in the fall, and they appear to get brighter 

 daily until the nesting 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 for- 

 ward. 



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 streams of summer, because the 

 rocks and pebbles that cause the sound in summer 

 are deeply buried beneath the current. "Still 



