Pheasant, or Ruffed Grouse, as we should rather call it, is a more hardy bird, partial to mountains and wooded countries, and found as far north as Hudson's Bay.
Saturday, 11th.—Very pleasant. Walking on the skirts of the village this afternoon, we came to a fence blown down by some winter storm, and stepping over it strolled about the fields awhile, the first time we had walked off the beaten track since November. We were obliged to cross several snow banks, but had the pleasure at least of treading the brown earth again, and remembering that in a few short weeks the sward will be fresh and green once more. A disappointment awaited us—several noble pines, old friends and favorites, had been felled unknown to us during the winter; unsightly stumps and piles of chips were all that remained where those fine trees had so long waved their evergreen arms. Their fall seemed to have quite changed the character of the neighboring fields; for it often lies within the power of a single group of trees to alter the whole aspect of acres of surrounding lands.
Wednesday, 15th.—Unusually cold for the season, the thermometer having fallen last night to six below zero. Half-cloudy day; wind from the north.
Thursday, 16th.—The cold still continues; ten degrees below zero last night! This would be thought very severe at midwinter.
Friday, 17th.—Severely cold night, thermometer seven below zero. Happily, it is now growing milder; the mercury above zero this evening.
Saturday, 18th.—Spring weather again, quite pleasant to-day. Thermometer forty-six, the mercury having risen some forty degrees within the last eighteen hours.
