WHEN MARCH WINDS BLOW. 123 



and about in winters that the old people very fitly 

 called "trimmers." 



The sun shines warmly for March, taking into 

 consideration the height we are at, compared with 

 the valleys below us. The wind hums through the 

 firs with their fresh green tips, and the clouds scud 

 along from the south in bright patches. No great 

 vapour mountains are they at this time, but light 

 flakes of bright cloud sailing along, all shapes and 

 all sizes, in the blue overhead. As the wind comes 

 from the south, it is soft, and just the kind of day 

 for all creatures to exult in after the winter has left 

 us. Over one great patch of the rough torey-grass, 

 so frequently seen on hillsides grass that snow and 

 frost bleach almost white, but yet leave it tough as 

 wire in bunches, thickly matted two pairs of kes- 

 trels are hovering. They are certainly after mice 

 the meadow voles ; you will find these on the hills 

 where the grass grows rank. These creatures take 

 advantage of bright warm days to come from their 

 burrows underground, and to glide in and out among 

 the tough dead leaves of the torey-grass. This is 

 quite a different movement from the brisk run of the 

 summer-time. I have been close to these mice, 



