CHAPTER II. 



FEBRUARY. 



OF nominal winter, February is the beginning of the 

 end. Our Delaware Indians called the month Tsqualli 

 gischuch, the Frog Moon, and expected to hear the clammy 

 batrachians croaking before its close. This they were 

 pretty sure to do, as their name of the month implies ; 

 and here, by the way, we have evidence that the winters 

 of two centuries ago were not so widely different from 

 those of our own time. Certainly of late years it is the 

 rule that the diminutive hylodes, the smallest of our frogs, 

 will alternately peep and rattle " once in February, thrice 

 in March, and all day long in April." I have this from a 

 nonogenarian who claims to know, and it accords, after a 

 fashion, with my own field-notes ; but I do not, like my 

 informant, insist that it is a " rule," for batrachians of 

 every kind, like the higher animals, are loath to obey any 

 other law than that of their own sweet will. Hence the 

 absurdity of making ex cathedra statements concerning 

 them. Utter confusion awaits those who anticipate find- 

 ing our animals creatures devoid of individuality. Surely 

 I do not err when I say that a certain toad that lived in 

 my yard recognized me as its friend during the last twelve 

 years of its life. Examined as dead specimens, individuals 

 of a given species can not, perhaps, be positively distin- 

 guished ; but studied in their proper belongings, year after 

 year, the reverse is largely true. Even in so low a form of 



