Intimations. 



A week later : It is not wise to expect much 

 of March, for then every slight favor she grants 

 will be appreciated the more. Such a favor was 

 the seventh of the month. It brought a bee to 

 the flowering whitlow-grass, and at sunrise a wasp 

 was battering against the window-pane. The sky 

 was blue-black and with not a cloud visible. This 

 was sufficient of an invitation to survey the ruin 

 wrought by the still lingering but now listless 

 winter. Before the town was actively astir I was 

 beyond its limits. The maples were more ruddy 

 than a week ago, and daffodils were up. Even a 

 stray spring -beauty dared look out. Better than 

 all else, the blackbirds were prospecting ; and over 

 the swamp and along the river red-wings and 

 grakles were holding a convention. No, not this, 

 but rather, informally, discussing the outlook. The 

 crows only, I take it, are so far methodical as to 

 hold a convention. This they are known to do 

 annually, and, so far as practicable, in the same 

 places and at the same times. Such a gathering 

 is well worth witnessing. Godman has given us, 

 in his " Rambles of a Naturalist," a vivid account 

 of the crows of ninety years ago, and what he 



