THE EARLIEST FLOWERS. 125 
By the foot-path that leads over the hill I find the 
beaked hazel (Corylus rostrata, Ait.) in bloom. The 
little red stigmas of the fertile flowers are scarcely thrust 
forth from the scaly bud and the crowded stamens of 
the sterile flowers are peeping out from the little roofs 
that cover them. The wind will have to be the kindly 
messenger to carry the pollen whither it should go. I 
am not alone on my ramble. 
“T hear from many a little throat 
A warble interrupted long ; 
I hear the robin’s flute-like note, 
The bluebird’s slenderer song. 
Brown meadows and the russet hill, 
Not yet the haunt of grazing herds, 
And thickets by the glimmering rill 
Are all alive with birds.” 
A flock of robins goes trooping before me among 
the apple-trees, and a pair of red-winged blackbirds fly 
startled away. The scream of a bluejay is heard from 
that clump of trees on the right, and in the woods all 
around the crows are apparently holding a caucus. The 
song sparrow greets me from many a tree by the way- 
side and his brother, ‘Little Chippy,” shows his brown 
pate more than once. A flock of wild ducks, black- 
headed and white-bodied at this distance, is floating 
lazily on the surface of the pond yonder. 
