Among the sweet winter sounds, that are as good to listen to as the songs of the summer birds, you should hear: the loud joyous cackling of the hens on a sunny January day; the munching of horses at night when the wild winds are whistling about the barn; the quiet hum about the hives,-- “When come the calm mild days, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home.” And then, the sound of the first rain on the shingles--the first February rain after a long frozen period! How it spatters the shingles with _spring--spring--spring!_ [Illustration: “ONE OF THE COVEY CALLING THE FLOCK TOGETHER”] X It was in the latter end of December, upon a gloomy day that was heavy with the oppression of a coming storm. In the heart of the maple swamp all was still and cold and dead. Suddenly, as out of a tomb, I heard the small, thin cry of a tiny tree-frog. And how small and thin it sounded in the vast silences of that winter swamp! And yet how clear and ringing! A thrill of life tingling out through the numb, nerveless body of the woods that has ever since made a dead day for me impossible. Have you heard him yet? XI “After all,” says some one of our writers, “it is only a matter of which side of the tree you stand on, whether it is summer or winter.” Just so. But, after all, is it not a good thing to stand on the winter side during the winter? to have a winter while we have it, and then have spring? No shivering around on the spring side of the tree for me. I will button up my coat, brace my back against the winter side and shout to the hoary old monarch-- “And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie’s a hand o’ thine;” and what a grip he has! CHAPTER XIII THE LAST DAY OF WINTER According to the almanac March 21st is the last day of winter. The almanac is not always to be trusted--not for hay weather, or picnic weather, or sailing weather; but you can always trust it for March 21st weather. Whatever the weather man at Washington predicts about it, whatever comes,--snow, sleet, slush, rain, wind, or frogs and sunshine,--March 21st _is_ the last day of winter. The sun “crosses the line” that day; spring crosses with him; and I cross over with the spring. Let it snow! I have had winter enough. Let the wind rage! It cannot turn back the sun; it cannot blow away the “equinoctial line”; it cannot snow under my determination to have done, here and now, with winter! The sun crosses to my side of the Equator on the 21st of March; there is nothing in the universe that can stop him. I cross over the line with him; and there is nothing under the sun that can stop me. When you want it to be spring, if you have the sun on your side of the line you can have spring. Hitching your wagon to a star is a very great help in getting along; but having the big sun behind you-- “When descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox”