THE VOICES OF THE SEASONS 



ONE threatened with the loss of sight very nat- 

 urally begins to reckon how far his other senses may 

 be depended upon to acquaint him of what may 

 be going on about him. If he is a lover of nature, 

 a close or only an ordinary observer of it, he will be 

 assured, as he recalls its voices, that if he were de- 

 prived of all senses but that of hearing, this one 

 sense would inform him of the presence of each 

 season if it did not apprize him of its coming. 



The caw of returning crows, the swelling rush of 

 unbound brooks, the nightly, monotonous, rasp- 

 ing note of the Acadian owl, would tell him cer- 

 tainly of the coming of spring. He would know by 

 the crackling croak of the frogs, the hyla's shrill 

 chime, the diffusive ringing of the toads, by the 

 beat and roll of the ruffed grouse's muffled drum, 

 and by the querulous whistle of the woodchuck 

 warmed to new vitality, that the soft breath of 

 spring was filling the earth with lif e, that the squir- 

 rel cups were blossoming in sunny woodside nooks, 

 buds of arbutus beginning to blush under their 

 rusty leaves on southern slopes of woodland ledges, 

 and willow catkins were yellowing the swamps. 



In sweetest fashion of all, the birds would tell 

 the story. Indeed, if he had ever noted their com- 



