was a woods, and to the west, beyond a pasturefield was another. For a moment I was undecided which to take, but the sight of the glistening mud of the cornfield was enough to decide me in favor of the one beyond the pasturefield. Thither I proceeded crossing the wet pasture. This woods was a very small one and very thin, but here I saw a new spring bird and when I hear its call, I shall always associate it with this woods and a misty dreamy day like this.
     At the corner of the woods where I first entered was a pond of ice. This Somewhere I have read in descriptions of “rubbery” ice. This ice was rubbery, and at every step, one sank slowly down but the ice did not break - only a slight gurgling of water underneath. While I was crossing the pond and enjoying the sensa­tion of sinking with the ice, I heard the call of a downy wood­pecker, which was instantly followed by a chorus of cries of nut hatches. Leaving the pond I struck northward thru the grove. It is strange the great number of plants that stay green all winter. The bright and greenest of all here were crowfoot, whose leaves looked like fresh green ones of Spring. While I was searching for various plants I heard a sharp rapid clatter, which I could not remember of ever having heard before, With all the eagerness