SOME OTHER TREES 



color into the landscape, and starting the active 

 double work, of the bees, in fertilizing flowers 

 while gathering honey, that was not to be in- 

 termitted for a single sunshine hour all through 

 the season. 



A little later, along the great Susquehanna, 

 I found in full bloom other trees of this same 

 birch, beloved of boys — and of girls — for its 

 aromatic bark. Certainly picturesque and bright, 

 the little trees were a delight to the winter- 

 wearied eye, the mahogany twigs and the 

 golden catkins, held at poise over the water, 

 being full of spring suggestion. 



All of the birches — I wish I knew them 

 better! — are good to look at, and I think the 

 bees, the woodpeckers, the humming-birds and 

 other wood folk must find some of them 

 good otherwise. At Eagles Mere there was 

 a yellow birch in the bark of which scores 

 of holes had been drilled by the woodpeckers 

 or the bees, at regularly spaced intervals, to 

 let the forest life drink at will of the sweet 

 sap. I remember also that my attempt to 

 photograph a score of bees, two large brown 

 butterflies and one humming-bird, all in 



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