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March 09, 2000 - Look, up in the sky, it's a ... squirrel?!r__ 6A • The Suffolk Times • March 9, 2000 Look, up in the sky, it's a ... News flash: First osprey seen on March 3 by my son Peter, building its nest atop the large radio tower north of the Southold police station. Where to start — there's so much happening as our days grow longer and the temperature stays away from freez- ing. Our first true sign of things to come was a clump of snow- drops that Focus appeared along- ON side our woods. They lifted their NATURE tiny white blos- by Paul soms for all to Stoutenburgh see. It was their sign that winter was over. A week or two later and the colorful little crocuses showed their painted blossoms in a sheltered spot alongside the garage. Hope was starting to renew itself. Near the crocus in the warmth that radiated from the protec- tion of the garage were daffodils push- ing their buds through the rich, dark earth. Give them a few more days and we'll see them popping out. Now that the frost is out of the ground, a multitude of unknown and hidden events will start to take place. The miracles that play out their role in making our planet a living one goes on unnoticed by most and those who do notice it are boggled by the complexi- ty beneath their feet. Most of us take the soil we walk on, plant in and build on for granted, never knowing the matrix of a thousand miracles going on below. Already there are faint signs of what's going on from the actions of the lowly earthworms. A sharp eye can catch the signs of their night prowling now that the ground is no longer frozen. As winter leaves once again they will return to the productive top- soil where most of the action is. That same sharp eye can see the leaf stems standing on end throughout the winter lawn. These tell us that the "night crawlers" have been out and taken back morsels to their slippery tunnels for later feasting. We all know and have seen earthworms but few realize the importance they play in the production of the healthy world we all rely on for our sustenance. My lawn, once frozen in winter's grip, is now thawed and resettled. Walking on it, I find it has a soft and renewed resilience. The gray squirrels can once again find and excavate their hidden treasures of nuts. Their digging signs are everywhere. It's too bad that here on the East End we don't have other members of the nut - gnawing family to brighten our days. Chipmunks and flying squir- rels are mostly absent from our East End. A few hold- outs might still be around but I'm afraid if they are about, the ever - present roving cats, one of our worst wildlife nightmares, will soon deplete them. What brings flying squir- rels and chipmunks to mind is a conversation I had with one of my physical therapists in Riverhead this week. She said she had seen flying squirrels going into a bird fox in her front yard. Anxious to see and photograph one of these elusive night adventur- ers, Barbara and I decided to try our luck. We drove to Calverton half an hour before dusk. First Barbara, and then I, stood and watched and waited for some sign of life at the birdhouse. We had seen gray squirrels as we drove in, but with the coming of darkness they slipped away to their nests to sleep for the night. Now would be the time for the fly- ing squirrels to stir and ven- ture forth. We stood and waited for an hour, shivering in the raw north wind. By six o'clock we knew our vigil had failed. We had seen no sign of life. Our flying squirrels had evidently left for other quarters. It was disappointing not to get to see them, but we had known from the start our chances were slim. Still we had to give it a try. Once before we had tried to pho- tograph these seldom -seen aerialists, back in 1969 over at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge, where flying squirrels had also taken up residence in an aban- doned birdhouse. As on our Calverton expedition, I had waited patiently as darkness took over. But here we were to have better luck. My heart beat more rapidly as first a little nose ven- tured out from the opening of the bird- • squirrel? Flying squirrels have a furry mem- brane of skin from their front legs to their rear legs, giving them, when stretched out, a sort of flat, square wing to glide on. There's no flapping of wings, just a rapid glide. It all happened so quickly that I missed my perfect shot of a flying squirrel. I'd have to be satis- fied with my one and only picture — the head peering out from the bird box. I was surprised to see how small flying squirrels really are. A mere two ounces, which makes them a bit larger than a mouse but nowhere as large as a rat. From the tip of its nose to the end of its flattened tail it measures just about 10 inches long. That tail, by the way, is most important, as it acts as a rudder when gliding from tree to tree. Its diet is similar to the gray squirrel's; nuts of all sorts are stored and in sea- son seeds, berries, fungi, etc., make up its diet. They are all collected at night. Flying squirrels are seldom seen during the daylight hours, which accounts for why so few people see them. My first encounter with these tiny balls of fur was when we were visiting friends in the Catskills many, many years ago. We had just finished dinner and were all sitting about chatting as people do. Then all of a sudden this little flying squirrel ran out from inside the fireplace and up into a big clock that stood on the mantelpiece. All conversation stopped as we watched our new arrival in silence. Evidently it was exploring new territory and found a chimney that looked somewhat like a hollow tree and so our little visitor started down and eventually came out in the living room. I don't know who was more sur- prised, the squirrel or all of us. Even our friends couldn't believe their eyes, for they had never seen a flying squirrel before. They knew they were around but had never gotten to see one. With much excitement and squeals and shrieks from the kids — and adults our visitor was rounded up and promptly let go into a world more to his liking. Let's leave flying squirrels and go back to the signs of spring. I visited the garden for the first time since my knee operation. My, how winter had devas- tated everything. The one bright spot, was the pussy willow that was planted alongside the tool shed. The blossoms had all burst their capsules and were now showing the world their fluffy, sil- ver new dresses. It was time for cutting. Before we left we stopped by the for- sythia bush to cut sprigs to force indoors. With two healthy bundles of future glory, I headed back to the house. The already - blossoming pussy willows would be put in a dry contain- er, where their blossoms would be frozen in dryness. The forsythia would be put in water and placed in the win- dow. There it will slowly come to life and later bloom. Eventually it will fill the window with its yellow radiance. These two are great messengers of spring and every household should enjo)F their- tidings. - - - - - - - - Suffolk Times photo by Paul Stoutenburgh The elusive flying squirrel Is a hard one to photograph as It travels only at night. Here we see It just emerging at dusk from a birdhouse at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge. Its flying consists of long glides using the wide furry mem- brane that stretches between Its front and back legs. tke down house, then the whole head of the fly- ing squirrel appeared, bulging eyes and all. My camera was ready. I was not going to lose this opportunity. "Click" went the camera and in went the head of my little flying squirrel. I waited pa- tiently for it to reappear, which it did a few minutes later. Sensing the coast was clear, it leaped from the box to a nearby tree in a long, sloping glide. home store ® books & boats & cards.& castdles to lytloar sp LiT & KlGLYWI Your hurt ® korsse fuyuskiKys & y�s hA& & sum & jewel -y & bags & batv1wodv ® QiG`lAd'W"19 C�1t�dr8itis i'ODKG Si& odeiigktficG clo" agG9`fts•' I a�cd occYy shot" ZGPi SP,Pi w SDm you& b& lwoka! YDGG & S !Gitk 3,1 6-165, dOSP,d tGL2Sd.G�IS 6A • The Suffolk Times • March 9, 2000 Look, up in the sky, News flash: First osprey seen on March 3 by my son Peter, building its nest atop the large radio tower north of the Southold police station. Where to start — there's so much happening as our days grow longer and the temperature stays away from freez- ing. Our first true sign of things to come was a clump of snow- drops that Focus appeared along- ON side our woods. They lifted their NATURE tiny white blos- by Paul soms for all to Stoutenburgh see. It was their sign that winter was over. A week or two later and the colorful little crocuses showed their painted blossoms in a sheltered spot alongside the garage. Hope was starting to renew itself. Near the crocus in the warmth that radiated from the protec- tion of the garage were daffodils push- ing their buds through the rich, dark earth. Give them a few more days and we'll see them popping out. Now that the frost is out of the ground, a multitude of unknown and hidden events will start to take place. The miracles that play out their role in making our planet a living one goes on unnoticed by most and those who do notice it are boggled by the complexi- ty beneath their feet. Most of us take the soil we walk on, plant in and build on for granted, never knowing the matrix of a thousand miracles going on below. Already there are faint signs of what's going on from the actions of the lowly earthworms. A sharp eye can catch the signs of their night prowling now that the ground is no longer frozen. As winter leaves once again they will return to the productive top- soil where most of the action is. That same sharp eye can see the leaf stems standing on end throughout the winter awn. These tell us that the "night crawlers" have been out and taken back morsels to their slippery tunnels for later feasting. We all know and have seen earthworms but few realize the importance thev olav in the production it's a ... squirrel? JUHUIK 1IIIICJ NI iv.v vy - -- --- -- The elusive flying squirrel is a hard one to photograph as it travels only at night. Here we see it just emerging at dusk from a birdhouse at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge. Its flying consists of long glides using the wide furry mem- brane that stretches between its front and back legs. of the healthy world we all rely on for our sustenance. My lawn, once frozen in winter's grip, is now thawed and resettled. Walking on it, I find it has a soft and renewed resilience. The gray squirrels can once again find and excavate their hidden treasures of nuts. Their digging signs are everywhere. It's too bad that here on the East End we don't have other members of the nut- gnawing family to brighten our days. Chipmunks and flying squir- rels are mostly absent from our East End. A few hold- outs might still be around but I'm afraid if they are about, the ever - present roving cats, one of our worst wildlife nightmares, will soon deplete them. What brings flying squir- rels and chipmunks to mind is a conversation I had with one of my physical therapists in Riverhead this week. She said she had seen flying squirrels going into a bird fox in her front yard. Anxious to see and photograph one of these elusive night adventur- ers, Barbara and I decided to try our luck. We drove to Calverton half an hour, before dusk. First Barbara, and then I, stood and watched and waited for some sign of life at the birdhouse. We had seen gray squirrels as we drove in, but with the coming of darkness they slipped away to their nests to sleep for the night. Now would be-the time for the fly- ing squirrels to stir and ven- ture forth. We stood and waited for an hour, shivering in the raw north wind. By six o'clock we knew our vigil had failed. We had seen no sign of life. Our flying squirrels had evidently left for other quarters. It was disappointing no to get to see them, but we had known from the start our chances were slim. Still we had to give it a try. Once before we had tried to pho- tograph these seldom -seen aerialists, back in 1969 over at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge, where flying squirrels had also taken up residence in an aban- doned birdhouse. As on our Calverton expedition, I had waited patiently as darkness took over. But here we were to have better luck. My heart beat more rapidly as first a little nose ven- red out from the opening of the bird- house, then the whole head of the fly- ing squirrel appeared, bulging eyes and all. My camera was ready. I was not going to lose this opportunity. "Click" went the camera and in went the head of my little flying squirrel. I waited pa- tiefttly for it to reappear, which it did a few minutes later. Sensing the coast was clear, it leaped from the box to a nearby tree in, a long, sloping glide. Flying squirrels have a furry mem- brane of skin from their front legs to their rear legs, giving them, when stretched out, a sort of flat, square wing to glide on. There's no flapping of wings, just a rapid glide. It all happened so quickly that I missed my perfect shot of a flying squirrel. I'd have to be satis- fied with my one and only picture — the head peering out from the bird box. I was surprised to see how small flying squirrels really. are. A mere two ounces, which makes them a bit larger than a mouse but nowhere as large as a rat. From the tip of its nose to the end of its flattened tail it measures just about 10 inches long. That tail, by the way, is most important, as it acts as a rudder when elidine from tree to tree. is gray squirrel's; nuts of all sorts are stored and in sea- son seeds, berries, fungi, etc., make up its diet. They are all collected at night. Flying squirrels are seldom seen during the daylight hours, which accounts for why so few people see them. My first encounter with these tiny balls of fur was when we were visiting friends in the Catskills many, many years ago. We had just finished dinner and were all sitting about chatting as people do. Then all of a sudden this little flying squirrel ran out from inside the fireplace and up into a big clock that stood on the mantelpiece. All conversation stopped as we watched our new arrival in silence. Evidently it was exploring new territory and found a chimney that looked somewhat like a hollow tree and so our little visitor started down and eventually came out in the living room. I don't know who was more sur- prised, the squirrel or all of us'. Even our friends couldn't believe their eyes, for they had never seen a flying squirrel before. They knew they were around but had never gotten to see one. With much excitement and squeals and shrieks from the kids — and adults — our visitor was rounded up and promptly let go into a world more to his liking. Let's leave flying squirrels and go back to the signs of spring. I visited the garden for the first time since my knee operation. My, how winter had devas- tated everything. The one bright spot was the pussy willow that was planted alongside the tool shed. The blossoms had all burst their capsules and were now showing the world their fluffy, sil- ver new dresses. It was time for cutting Before we left we stopped by the for- sythia bush to cut sprigs to force indoors. With two healthy bundles of future glory, I headed back to the house. The already- blossoming pussy willows would be put in a dry contain- er, where their blossoms would be frozen in dryness. The forsythia would be put in water and placed in the win- dow. There it will slowly come to'life and later bloom. Eventually it will fill the window with its yellow radiance. These two are great messengers of spring and every household should niov their- tidings.- - - - - - - 6A • The Suffolk Times • March 9, 2000 Look, up in the sky, News flash: First osprey seen on March 3 by my son Peter, building its nest atop the large radio tower north of the Southold police station. Where to start — there's so much happening as our days grow longer and the temperature stays away from freez- ing. Our first true sign of things to come was a clump of snow- drops that Focus appeared along- ON side our woods. They lifted their NATURE tiny white blos- by Paul soms for all to Stoutenburgh see. It was their sign that winter was over. A week or two later and the colorful little crocuses showed their painted blossoms in a sheltered spot alongside the garage. Hope was starting to renew itself. Near the crocus in the warmth that radiated from the protec- tion of the garage were daffodils push- ing their buds through the rich, dark earth. Give them a few more days and we'll see them popping out. Now that the frost is out of the ground, a multitude of unknown and hidden events will start to take place. The miracles that play out their role in making our planet a living one goes on unnoticed by most and those who do notice it are boggled by the complexi- ty beneath their feet. Most of us take the soil we walk on, plant in and build on for granted, never knowing the matrix of a thousand miracles going on below. Already there are faint signs of what's going on from the actions of the lowly earthworms. A sharp eye can catch the signs of their night prowling now that the ground is no longer frozen. As winter leaves once again they will return to the productive top- soil where most of the action is. That same sharp eye can see the leaf stems standing on end throughout the winter awn. These tell us that the "night crawlers" have been out and taken back morsels to their slippery tunnels for later feasting. We all know and have seen earthworms but few realize the importance thev olav in the production it's a ... squirrel? JUHUIK 1IIIICJ NI iv.v vy - -- --- -- The elusive flying squirrel is a hard one to photograph as it travels only at night. Here we see it just emerging at dusk from a birdhouse at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge. Its flying consists of long glides using the wide furry mem- brane that stretches between its front and back legs. of the healthy world we all rely on for our sustenance. My lawn, once frozen in winter's grip, is now thawed and resettled. Walking on it, I find it has a soft and renewed resilience. The gray squirrels can once again find and excavate their hidden treasures of nuts. Their digging signs are everywhere. It's too bad that here on the East End we don't have other members of the nut- gnawing family to brighten our days. Chipmunks and flying squir- rels are mostly absent from our East End. A few hold- outs might still be around but I'm afraid if they are about, the ever - present roving cats, one of our worst wildlife nightmares, will soon deplete them. What brings flying squir- rels and chipmunks to mind is a conversation I had with one of my physical therapists in Riverhead this week. She said she had seen flying squirrels going into a bird fox in her front yard. Anxious to see and photograph one of these elusive night adventur- ers, Barbara and I decided to try our luck. We drove to Calverton half an hour, before dusk. First Barbara, and then I, stood and watched and waited for some sign of life at the birdhouse. We had seen gray squirrels as we drove in, but with the coming of darkness they slipped away to their nests to sleep for the night. Now would be-the time for the fly- ing squirrels to stir and ven- ture forth. We stood and waited for an hour, shivering in the raw north wind. By six o'clock we knew our vigil had failed. We had seen no sign of life. Our flying squirrels had evidently left for other quarters. It was disappointing no to get to see them, but we had known from the start our chances were slim. Still we had to give it a try. Once before we had tried to pho- tograph these seldom -seen aerialists, back in 1969 over at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge, where flying squirrels had also taken up residence in an aban- doned birdhouse. As on our Calverton expedition, I had waited patiently as darkness took over. But here we were to have better luck. My heart beat more rapidly as first a little nose ven- red out from the opening of the bird- house, then the whole head of the fly- ing squirrel appeared, bulging eyes and all. My camera was ready. I was not going to lose this opportunity. "Click" went the camera and in went the head of my little flying squirrel. I waited pa- tiefttly for it to reappear, which it did a few minutes later. Sensing the coast was clear, it leaped from the box to a nearby tree in, a long, sloping glide. Flying squirrels have a furry mem- brane of skin from their front legs to their rear legs, giving them, when stretched out, a sort of flat, square wing to glide on. There's no flapping of wings, just a rapid glide. It all happened so quickly that I missed my perfect shot of a flying squirrel. I'd have to be satis- fied with my one and only picture — the head peering out from the bird box. I was surprised to see how small flying squirrels really. are. A mere two ounces, which makes them a bit larger than a mouse but nowhere as large as a rat. From the tip of its nose to the end of its flattened tail it measures just about 10 inches long. That tail, by the way, is most important, as it acts as a rudder when elidine from tree to tree. is gray squirrel's; nuts of all sorts are stored and in sea- son seeds, berries, fungi, etc., make up its diet. They are all collected at night. Flying squirrels are seldom seen during the daylight hours, which accounts for why so few people see them. My first encounter with these tiny balls of fur was when we were visiting friends in the Catskills many, many years ago. We had just finished dinner and were all sitting about chatting as people do. Then all of a sudden this little flying squirrel ran out from inside the fireplace and up into a big clock that stood on the mantelpiece. All conversation stopped as we watched our new arrival in silence. Evidently it was exploring new territory and found a chimney that looked somewhat like a hollow tree and so our little visitor started down and eventually came out in the living room. I don't know who was more sur- prised, the squirrel or all of us'. Even our friends couldn't believe their eyes, for they had never seen a flying squirrel before. They knew they were around but had never gotten to see one. With much excitement and squeals and shrieks from the kids — and adults — our visitor was rounded up and promptly let go into a world more to his liking. Let's leave flying squirrels and go back to the signs of spring. I visited the garden for the first time since my knee operation. My, how winter had devas- tated everything. The one bright spot was the pussy willow that was planted alongside the tool shed. The blossoms had all burst their capsules and were now showing the world their fluffy, sil- ver new dresses. It was time for cutting Before we left we stopped by the for- sythia bush to cut sprigs to force indoors. With two healthy bundles of future glory, I headed back to the house. The already- blossoming pussy willows would be put in a dry contain- er, where their blossoms would be frozen in dryness. The forsythia would be put in water and placed in the win- dow. There it will slowly come to'life and later bloom. Eventually it will fill the window with its yellow radiance. These two are great messengers of spring and every household should niov their- tidings.- - - - - - - 6A • The Suffolk Times • March 9, 2000 Look, up in the sky, News flash: First osprey seen on March 3 by my son Peter, building its nest atop the large radio tower north of the Southold police station. Where to start — there's so much happening as our days grow longer and the temperature stays away from freez- ing. Our first true sign of things to come was a clump of snow- drops that Focus appeared along- ON side our woods. They lifted their NATURE tiny white blos- by Paul soms for all to Stoutenburgh see. It was their sign that winter was over. A week or two later and the colorful little crocuses showed their painted blossoms in a sheltered spot alongside the garage. Hope was starting to renew itself. Near the crocus in the warmth that radiated from the protec- tion of the garage were daffodils push- ing their buds through the rich, dark earth. Give them a few more days and we'll see them popping out. Now that the frost is out of the ground, a multitude of unknown and hidden events will start to take place. The miracles that play out their role in making our planet a living one goes on unnoticed by most and those who do notice it are boggled by the complexi- ty beneath their feet. Most of us take the soil we walk on, plant in and build on for granted, never knowing the matrix of a thousand miracles going on below. Already there are faint signs of what's going on from the actions of the lowly earthworms. A sharp eye can catch the signs of their night prowling now that the ground is no longer frozen. As winter leaves once again they will return to the productive top- soil where most of the action is. That same sharp eye can see the leaf stems standing on end throughout the winter awn. These tell us that the "night crawlers" have been out and taken back morsels to their slippery tunnels for later feasting. We all know and have seen earthworms but few realize the importance thev olav in the production it's a ... squirrel? JUHUIK 1IIIICJ NI iv.v vy - -- --- -- The elusive flying squirrel is a hard one to photograph as it travels only at night. Here we see it just emerging at dusk from a birdhouse at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge. Its flying consists of long glides using the wide furry mem- brane that stretches between its front and back legs. of the healthy world we all rely on for our sustenance. My lawn, once frozen in winter's grip, is now thawed and resettled. Walking on it, I find it has a soft and renewed resilience. The gray squirrels can once again find and excavate their hidden treasures of nuts. Their digging signs are everywhere. It's too bad that here on the East End we don't have other members of the nut- gnawing family to brighten our days. Chipmunks and flying squir- rels are mostly absent from our East End. A few hold- outs might still be around but I'm afraid if they are about, the ever - present roving cats, one of our worst wildlife nightmares, will soon deplete them. What brings flying squir- rels and chipmunks to mind is a conversation I had with one of my physical therapists in Riverhead this week. She said she had seen flying squirrels going into a bird fox in her front yard. Anxious to see and photograph one of these elusive night adventur- ers, Barbara and I decided to try our luck. We drove to Calverton half an hour, before dusk. First Barbara, and then I, stood and watched and waited for some sign of life at the birdhouse. We had seen gray squirrels as we drove in, but with the coming of darkness they slipped away to their nests to sleep for the night. Now would be-the time for the fly- ing squirrels to stir and ven- ture forth. We stood and waited for an hour, shivering in the raw north wind. By six o'clock we knew our vigil had failed. We had seen no sign of life. Our flying squirrels had evidently left for other quarters. It was disappointing no to get to see them, but we had known from the start our chances were slim. Still we had to give it a try. Once before we had tried to pho- tograph these seldom -seen aerialists, back in 1969 over at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge, where flying squirrels had also taken up residence in an aban- doned birdhouse. As on our Calverton expedition, I had waited patiently as darkness took over. But here we were to have better luck. My heart beat more rapidly as first a little nose ven- red out from the opening of the bird- house, then the whole head of the fly- ing squirrel appeared, bulging eyes and all. My camera was ready. I was not going to lose this opportunity. "Click" went the camera and in went the head of my little flying squirrel. I waited pa- tiefttly for it to reappear, which it did a few minutes later. Sensing the coast was clear, it leaped from the box to a nearby tree in, a long, sloping glide. Flying squirrels have a furry mem- brane of skin from their front legs to their rear legs, giving them, when stretched out, a sort of flat, square wing to glide on. There's no flapping of wings, just a rapid glide. It all happened so quickly that I missed my perfect shot of a flying squirrel. I'd have to be satis- fied with my one and only picture — the head peering out from the bird box. I was surprised to see how small flying squirrels really. are. A mere two ounces, which makes them a bit larger than a mouse but nowhere as large as a rat. From the tip of its nose to the end of its flattened tail it measures just about 10 inches long. That tail, by the way, is most important, as it acts as a rudder when elidine from tree to tree. is gray squirrel's; nuts of all sorts are stored and in sea- son seeds, berries, fungi, etc., make up its diet. They are all collected at night. Flying squirrels are seldom seen during the daylight hours, which accounts for why so few people see them. My first encounter with these tiny balls of fur was when we were visiting friends in the Catskills many, many years ago. We had just finished dinner and were all sitting about chatting as people do. Then all of a sudden this little flying squirrel ran out from inside the fireplace and up into a big clock that stood on the mantelpiece. All conversation stopped as we watched our new arrival in silence. Evidently it was exploring new territory and found a chimney that looked somewhat like a hollow tree and so our little visitor started down and eventually came out in the living room. I don't know who was more sur- prised, the squirrel or all of us'. Even our friends couldn't believe their eyes, for they had never seen a flying squirrel before. They knew they were around but had never gotten to see one. With much excitement and squeals and shrieks from the kids — and adults — our visitor was rounded up and promptly let go into a world more to his liking. Let's leave flying squirrels and go back to the signs of spring. I visited the garden for the first time since my knee operation. My, how winter had devas- tated everything. The one bright spot was the pussy willow that was planted alongside the tool shed. The blossoms had all burst their capsules and were now showing the world their fluffy, sil- ver new dresses. It was time for cutting Before we left we stopped by the for- sythia bush to cut sprigs to force indoors. With two healthy bundles of future glory, I headed back to the house. The already- blossoming pussy willows would be put in a dry contain- er, where their blossoms would be frozen in dryness. The forsythia would be put in water and placed in the win- dow. There it will slowly come to'life and later bloom. Eventually it will fill the window with its yellow radiance. These two are great messengers of spring and every household should niov their- tidings.- - - - - - -