90 WINTER SUNSHINE 



the west, and no signs of a storm, the veins of the 

 maples fairly thrill. Pierce the bark anywhere, and 

 out gushes the clear, sweet liquid. But let the 

 wind change to the south and blow moist and warm, 

 destroying that crispness of the air, and the flow 

 slackens at once, unless there be a deep snow in the 

 woods to counteract or neutralize the warmth, in 

 which case the run may continue till the rain sets 

 in. The rough-coated old trees, — one would not 

 think they could scent a change so quickly through 

 that wrapper of dead, dry bark an inch or more 

 thick. I have to wait till I put my head out of 

 doors, and feel the air on my bare cheek, and sniff 

 it with my nose ; but their nerves of taste and smell 

 are no doubt under ground, imbedded in the moist- 

 ure, and if there is anything that responds quickly 

 to atmospheric changes it is water. Do not the 

 fish, think you, down deep in the streams, feel 

 every wind that blows, whether it be hot or cold ? 

 Do not the frogs and newts and turtles under the 

 mud feel the warmth, though the water still seems 

 like ice? As the springs begin to rise in advance 

 of the rain, so the intelligence of every change seems 

 to travel ahead under ground and forewarn things. 



A "sap-run" seldom lasts more than two or 

 three days. By that time there is a change in the 

 weather, perhaps a rainstorm, which takes the frost 

 nearly all out of the ground. Then, before there 

 can be another run, the trees must be wound up 

 again, the storm must have a white tail, and "come 

 off" cold. Presently the sun rises clear again, and 



