Sunday Feb. 11, 1912 (continued)
to be a couple of field sparrows, The colors in this swamp were extraordinary.  Around the edge of the open places was a growth of red maples, beyond which arose the dull yellow branches of willows, and here and there ironwoods mingled their greyish colors, and birches partly over grown with a light ochre colored vine, added their brown.  Along this open space I went, seeking a way to break thru the underbrush.  Straight ahead was a row of tall willows, that had a wild beauty of their own.  It was to these I wanted to get, but an almost impassible barrier of dry wild aster stalks and ironweed barred the way.  Impassible because they were so tall and dense, that when I attempted to push thru them, aside from the ice breaking at every step, the plants continually flew in my face, and their sting was extremely unpleasant.  The open place now turn east ward and in this direction I went, till I came to where I could get out.  I came thru at an open field which extended a short distance along the Little