Читать книгу Friendly Acres - Peter McArthur - Страница 9

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This year the vernal equinox fell on a day that was enough to make any man a sun worshipper. The whole world seemed flooded with the great life force that comes every spring to invite man out to the fields to his yearly tasks. On that perfect day the Great Partner seemed to be standing in the world's market-place seeking those who are to co-operate with him in the work of feeding the world. A south wind was blowing, the sun was unclouded and the heat was flickering on the fences and the housetops. The birds were all back, and even though it was early, it seemed as if the spring had really come, and that the yearly rush was started. But events since that day have made me doubt the insight of the disciples of Zoroaster. They should not have worshipped the sun, but the south wind. We have been having clear sunshine every day since the perfect day of the vernal equinox, but there has been no trace of life. The wind swung to the Northwest and hung there with a persistence that drove the spring back to the south. I don't know whether there was ever a sect of wind worshippers, but I think such a cult would have been justified so far as the south wind is concerned. It is really the south wind that brings the spring. Whether the sun is clouded or not the south wind can bring back the season of growth, but without the south wind the sun is apparently helpless. But whether it be the sun or the south wind that brings back the spring, we have had one taste of it already this season, and are ready for more. After the long winter it came like release from prison to find the great outdoors so warm and inviting.

When working in the sugar bush last week I saw something that I would have considered impossible if anyone had told me about it. I saw a black squirrel fall from a tree and land with a bump that almost stunned it. I did not see how the accident happened, but, judging by the location of the fall, the squirrel tried to jump from the branches of one tree to another and missed the branch it tried for. I was gathering brush for my fire, and, as I happened to be facing toward the spot where the squirrel fell, I saw it coming through the air before it landed. As it fell within a few yards of me, I heard the bump it made, and it was a real one. The squirrel rolled over a couple of times before it was able to get its footing and scamper away. It must have been as much surprised as the coloured man who got hurt when stealing chickens. In telling about it he said: "Ah clumb out on a slim branch to get the chicken, and just then I heard somethin' drap. It wuz me!" I thought the squirrels were so expert on the flying trapeze that they never missed, but now I know that they can make mistakes of judgment just like human beings. Another thing that I noticed about the squirrels in the wood-lot was that not one of them put in an appearance until almost sunset. As I knew that there must be at least a dozen of them in the woods, I wondered where they were keeping themselves. Just as the sun was nearing the horizon they began jumping about in the branches of the trees and occasionally stopping to utter their mournful cry. I noticed that the squirrel that fell had a bare spot on his side, so it is possible that he had been wounded at some time or was sick. Perhaps that helps to account for the accident.