The Muskrats ave Building 
come a series of warm open winters with abundance 
of food. 
Bad as the weather is, there are a few of the seed- 
eating birds, like the quail, and some of the insect- 
eaters, like the chickadee, who are so well provided 
for that they can stay and survive the winter. But 
the great majority of the birds, because they have no 
storehouse nor barn, must take wing and fly away 
from the lean and hungry cold. 
And I am glad to see them go. The thrilling honk 
of the flying wild geese out of the November sky 
tells me that the hollow forests and closing bays of 
the vast desolate north are empty now, except for 
the few creatures that find food and shelter in the 
snow. The wild geese pass, and I hear behind them 
the clang of the arctic gates, the boom of the bolt — 
then the long frozen silence. Yet it is not for long. 
Soon the bar will slip back, the gates will swing wide, 
and the wild geese will come honking over, swift to 
the greening marshes of the arctic bays once more. 
Here in my own small woods and marshes there 
is much getting ready, much comforting assurance 
that Nature is quite equal to herself, that winter is 
not approaching unawares. There will be great lack, 
9 
