58 STUDIES IN THE FIELD AND FOREST. 



Though the present time is nominally the spring of 

 the year, as yet there is not a flower in the fields or gar- 

 dens, and the bads of the trees are hardly swollen with 

 waking vegetation. The wild flowers are still buried 

 under the snows and ices of winter, and the grass has 

 begun to look green only under the southern protection 

 of the walls and fences. Many of the early birds, fol- 

 lowing the southerly winds that occasionally prevail for 

 a few days, and tempted by the bright sunshine of the 

 season, have arrived from their winter haunts, and sing 

 and chirp alternately, as if they were debating whether 

 to remain here, or to return to a more genial clime. It 

 is a singular instinct that prompts so many species of 

 birds to leave their pleasant abiding places at the south, 

 where every agreeable condition of climate, shelter, and 

 provision for their wants is present, and press onward 

 into the northern regions, before the rigors of winter 

 have been subdued, and while they are still liable to 

 perish with cold or starvation. Often with anxious 

 compassion have I watched these little bewildered song- 

 sters, who have so unseasonably returned from the re- 

 gion of perpetual summer, when after commencing 

 their morning lays, as if they believed the vernal prom- 

 ises of dawn, they were obliged to flee into the depths 

 of the woods, to find a shelter from the driving snow- 

 storm. 



It may seem remarkable that, before vegetation has 

 awakened, there should be a resuscitation of some of 

 the insect tribes. But in warm, sheltered situations 

 many small flies may be seen, either newly hatched, or 

 revived by the heat of the sun. They do not seek food, 

 but crawl about in dry places, sometimes rising into the 

 air, and drowsily and awkwardly exercising their wings. 

 So exposed is this class of animated things to the 



