The moucher now carries a bill-hook, and as he shambles along the road keeps a sharp look-out for briars.  When he sees one the roots of which are not difficult to get at, and whose tall upright stem is green—­if dark it is too old—­he hacks it off with as much of the root as possible.  The lesser branches are cut, and the stem generally trimmed; it is then sold to the gardeners as the stock on which to graft standard roses.  In a few hours as he travels he will get together quite a bundle of such briars.  He also collects moss, which is sold for the purpose of placing in flowerpots to hide the earth.  The moss preferred is that growing on and round stoles.

The melting of the snow and the rains in February cause the ditches to overflow and form shallow pools in the level meadows.  Into these sometimes the rooks wade as far as the length of their legs allows them, till the discoloured yellow water almost touches the lower part of the breast.  The moucher searches for small shell snails, of which quantities are sold as food for cage birds, and cuts small ‘turfs’ a few inches square from the green by the roadside.  These are in great request for larks, especially at this time of the year, when they begin to sing with all their might.

Large flocks of woodpigeons are now in every field where the tender swede and turnip tops are sprouting green and succulent.  These ‘tops’ are the moucher’s first great crop of the year.  The time that they appear varies with the weather:  in a mild winter some may be found early in January; if the frost has been severe there may be none till March.  These the moucher gathers by stealth; he speedily fills a sack, and goes off with it to the nearest town.  Turnip tops are much more in demand now than formerly, and the stealing of them a more serious matter.  This trade lasts some time, till the tops become too large and garden greens take their place.

In going to and fro the fields the moucher searches the banks and digs out primrose ‘mars,’ and ferns with the root attached, which he hawks from door to door in the town.  He also gathers quantities of spring flowers, as violets.  This spring [1879], owing to the severity of the season, there were practically none to gather, and when the weather moderated the garden flowers preceded those of the hedge.  Till the 10th of March not a spot of colour was to be seen.  About that time bright yellow flowers appeared suddenly on the clayey banks and waste places, and among the hard clay lumps of fields ploughed but not sown.

The brilliant yellow formed a striking contrast to the dull brown of the clods, there being no green leaf to moderate the extremes of tint.  These were the blossoms of the coltsfoot, that sends up a stalk surrounded with faintly rosy scales.  Several such stalks often spring from a single clod:  lift the heavy clod, and you have half a dozen flowers, a whole bunch, without a single leaf.  Usually the young grasses and the seed-leaves of plants have risen up and supply a general green; but this year the coltsfoot bloomed unsupported, studding the dark ground with gold.