DANVIS FARM LIFE 87 



mirth, held a notable place in our farm life till 

 within a decade or two of years. But they, too, 

 have passed away, and husking has grown to be 

 a humdrum, workday labor, though not an un- 

 pleasant one, whether the spikes of gold are un- 

 sheathed in the field in the hazy warmth of an 

 October day, or in the barn when the fall rain is 

 pattering on the roof and making brown puddles 

 in the barnyard. In these days the cows are apt 

 to come late to the milking, for the cow-boy loiters 

 by the way to fill his pocket with hickory-nuts, or 

 crack a hatful of butternuts on the big stone, 

 which, with some small ones for hammers, seem 

 always to be set under every butternut-tree. 



The turkeys wander far and wide grasshopper- 

 hunting over the meadows, whereon the gossamer 

 lies so thick that the afternoon sun casts a shim- 

 mering sunglade across them, and go nutting 

 along the edge of the woods where the slender 

 fingers of the beeches are dropping their light 

 burden of golden leaves and brown mast. 



Long, straggling columns of crows are moving 

 southward by leisurely aerial marches, and at 

 night and morning the clamor of their noisy en- 

 campments disturbs the woods. Most of the 

 summer birds have gone. A few robins, hopping 

 silently among the tangle of wild grapevines, and 

 flocks of yellowbirds, clad now in sober garments 

 and uttering melancholy notes as they glean the 



