DANVIS FARM LIFE 43 



been ignominiously conquered; the encroaching 

 ranks of goldenrods along the borders of his fields, 

 and the bristling bayonets of those Canadian in- 

 vaders, the thistles. How few farmers, or other 

 people for that matter, see in the climbing blushes 

 of the dawning day, or the gorgeous painting of 

 its close, or in the perfect day itself, anything but 

 the foretelling of fair or foul weather; or notice the 

 ways of any untamed bird or beast, except that 

 the crows come to pull the corn, the hawks to 

 catch the chickens, and the foxes to steal the 

 lambs and turkeys. However, the farmer gen- 

 erally does feel a thrill of pleasure when, in the 

 hazy softness of a February or March day, he 

 hears the caw of the first carrion-seeking, hungry 

 crow. "The heart of winter is broken." In April 

 when the fields begin to show a suspicion of com- 

 ing green and give forth an odor of spring, and 

 the dingy snowbanks along the fences are daily 

 dwindling, he welcomes the carol of the first blue- 

 bird, and is glad to hear the robin utter his rest- 

 less note from the boughs of the old apple-tree; 

 and the clear voice of the new-come meadowlark 

 strikes him as not altogether unmusical; and when 

 he hears the plaintive cry of the grass-plover he 

 is sure spring has come. Then he thinks of the 

 small birds no more till the first blasts of return- 

 ing winter sweep over the bare trees and frozen 

 fields, when, all at once, he becomes aware that 



