MARCH. 61 



and forewarned we are expected to be forearmed. So stick 

 closely to the sunny side of some stout tree and view the 

 airy battle from afar. 



The sky is of a deeper blue than during the winter, 

 but not until to-day have the scattered clouds so constantly 

 chased their shadows across the meadows. Fleecy frag- 

 ments of some distant storm-cloud, the wind has caught 

 them up and now whirls them swiftly toward the sea. Be- 

 yond its reach myself, the impelling power is quite for- 

 gotten, and something more than lifeless mist is speeding 

 gleefully through space, ever at their heels, but never capt- 

 uring their own earth-sweeping shadows. 



Such days are sure to rouse to liveliest pitch the ener- 

 gies of all our winter birds, and none hug the sheltered 

 slopes so closely as in months gone by. Even the tireless 

 hawks are moved, and, breaking the circles over which they 

 have sailed for hours, dash, with wild screaming, down 

 the fitful wind. 



The bird world's lesser lights are no less active. At 

 last the meadow-larks are moved to sing. For long they 

 have threaded their silent way along tortuous paths in the 

 dead and tangled grass ; now they rejoice, with full hearts, 

 in the open secret of spring at hand. 



Where the old bridge shudders in the blast, as the 

 winds sweep the troubled waters of the cheerless creek, 

 the confident peewee never loses faith, and morning, noon, 

 and night, repeats his cheery call. He has come to stay, 

 and seldom does the severest weather cause him to repent. 

 I have heard him singing when the creek was ice-bound 

 and the ground covered deeply with snow. 



From where I stood to-day, there was clustered a rank 

 growth of seedling beeches, with here and there a more 

 spreading growth of alder. A happy group of foxy 

 finches, flitting through this pygmy forest, for hours made 

 merry ; and however dismal the day or desolate the world 



