MARCH. 71 



cousin, who also tried, could pass by in the same manner, be- 

 hind the cows, without frightening the birds. I do not see 

 how their actions can be interpreted, except by the sugges- 

 tion that they distinguished one boy from all other persons. 



In the case of the pair of peewees that every season 

 have a nest on one of the pillars of my porch, the birds are 

 somewhat timid while the nest is being constructed, less 

 so when the eggs are laid, and quite indifferent to us all 

 when the young are hatched. In this case, strangers are 

 not distinguished; but when some one comes upon the 

 porch and hammers away with the old brass knocker, then 

 the peewees think it time to leave. 



I am free to say this does not often happen, but is 

 so frequent that if the same peewees come year after 

 year, they should by this time have got used to the thun- 

 der of the ponderous brass ; but they have not, and here 

 is a fact to be scored against my view of permanent mating 

 occurring among these birds. 



It is in March, if the wind has died away, that we 

 notice so often after sundown flickering lurid patches of 

 dull red light scattered along the horizon. It excites no 

 comment now. We do not wonder, at this time of year, 

 whose house or barn it is that has caught fire the farmer 

 is burning brush. 



This effectual method of cleaning up the ground is a 

 prominent phase of farm life in March, and is an occur- 

 rence in which every lover of out of doors can take de- 

 light. The day-time preliminaries are not attractive. 

 Kaking dry leaves while the wind blows is simply exasper- 

 ating; and I have often wondered that the farm-hands 

 had any patience left. At last the piles are ready, and 

 fairly secure by the weighting of branches cut from the 

 old apple trees. The night is still ; the word is given ; 

 the torch applied. 



