42 WINTER 



Yes, seeds. Gather several small boxes of them and 

 when you return home take a small magnifying glass 

 and make them out the sticktights, gray birches, 

 yellow birches, pines, ragweeds, milfoil I cannot 

 number them ! It is a lesson in the way the winds 

 and the snows help to plant the earth. Last win- 

 ter I followed for some distance the deep frozen 

 tracks of a fox, picking out the various seeds that 

 had drifted into every footprint, just so far apart, 

 as if planted in the snow by some modern plant- 

 ing-machine. It was very interesting. 



V 



When the snow lies five or six inches deep, walk 

 out along the fence-rows, roadsides, and old fields 

 to see the j uncos, the sparrows, and goldfinches feed- 

 ing upon the seeds of the dead weeds standing stiff 

 and brown above the snow. Does the sight mean 

 anything to you? What does it mean? 



VI 

 Burns has a fine poem beginning 



" When biting Boreas, fell and doure, 

 Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r," 



in which, he asks, 



" Ilk happing bird wee, helpless thing ! 



What comes o' thee ? 



Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, 

 An' close thy e'e ? " 



