In New England Fields and Woods

CONTENTS


I. THE NAMELESS SEASON
II. MARCH DAYS
III. THE HOME FIRESIDE
IV. THE CROW
V. THE MINK
VI. APRIL DAYS
VII. THE WOODCHUCK
VIII. THE CHIPMUNK
IX. SPRING SHOOTING
X. THE GARTER-SNAKE
XI. THE TOAD
XII. MAY DAYS
XIII. THE BOBOLINK
XIV. THE GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER
XV. JUNE DAYS
XVI. THE BULLFROG
XVII. THE ANGLER
XVIII. FARMERS AND FIELD SPORTS
XIX. TO A TRESPASS SIGN
XX. A GENTLE SPORTSMAN
XXI. JULY DAYS
XXII. CAMPING OUT
XXIII. THE CAMP-FIRE
XXIV. A RAINY DAY IN CAMP
XXV. AUGUST DAYS
XXVI. A VOYAGE IN THE DARK
XXVII. THE SUMMER CAMP-FIRE
XXVIII. THE RACCOON
XXIX. THE RELUCTANT CAMP-FIRE
XXX. SEPTEMBER DAYS
XXXI. A PLEA FOR THE UNPROTECTED
XXXII. THE SKUNK
XXXIII. A CAMP-FIRE RUN WILD
XXXIV. THE DEAD CAMP-FIRE
XXXV. OCTOBER DAYS
XXXVI. A COMMON EXPERIENCE
XXXVII. THE RED SQUIRREL
XXXVIII. THE RUFFED GROUSE
XXXIX. TWO SHOTS
XL. NOVEMBER DAYS
XLI. THE MUSKRAT
XLII. NOVEMBER VOICES
XLIII. THANKSGIVING
XLIV. DECEMBER DAYS
XLV. WINTER VOICES
XLVI. THE VARYING HARE
XLVII. THE WINTER CAMP-FIRE
XLVIII. JANUARY DAYS
XLIX. A NEW ENGLAND WOODPILE
L. A CENTURY OF EXTERMINATION
LI. THE PERSISTENCY OF PESTS
LII. THE WEASEL
LIII. FEBRUARY DAYS
LIV. THE FOX
LV. AN ICE-STORM
LVI. SPARE THE TREES
LVII. THE CHICKADEE




IN NEW ENGLAND FIELDS AND WOODS




I

THE NAMELESS SEASON


In the March page of our almanac, opposite the 20th of the month we find
the bold assertion, "Now spring begins;" but in the northern part of New
England, for which this almanac was especially compiled, the weather
does not bear out the statement.

The snow may be gone from the fields except in grimy drifts, in hollows
and along fences and woodsides; but there is scarcely a sign of spring
in the nakedness of pasture, meadow, and ploughed land, now more dreary
in the dun desolation of lifeless grass, débris of stacks, and black
furrows than when the first snow covered the lingering greenness of
December.

It is quite as likely that the open lands are still under the worn and
dusty blanket of snow, smirched with all the litter cast upon it by
cross-lot-faring teams, and wintry winds blowing for months from every
quarter. The same untidiness pervades all outdoors. We could never
believe that so many odds and ends could have been thrown out of doors
helter-skelter, in three months of ordinary life, till the proof
confronts us on the surface of the subsiding snow or lies stranded on
the bare earth. The wind comes with an icier breath from the wintrier
north, and yet blows untempered from the south, over fields by turns
frozen and sodden, through which the swollen brooks rush in yellow
torrents with sullen monotonous complaint.