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diff --git a/42871-8.txt b/42871-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 61b3c86..0000000 --- a/42871-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6082 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wild Life Near Home, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Wild Life Near Home - -Author: Dallas Lore Sharp - -Illustrator: Bruce Horsfall - -Release Date: June 4, 2013 [EBook #42871] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILD LIFE NEAR HOME *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Diane Monico, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - - -WILD LIFE NEAR HOME - -[Illustration: "The feast is finished and the games are on."] - - - - -Wild Life Near -Home - -By Dallas Lore Sharp - -With Illustrations -By Bruce Horsfall - -[Illustration] - -NEW YORK - -The Century Co. - -1901 - - - - -Copyright, 1901, by -The Century Co. - -Copyright, 1897, by The J. B. Lippincott Co. -Copyright, 1897, by Perry Mason & Co. -Copyright, 1898, by Frank Leslie's Publishing House. - -_Published October, 1901._ - - - - -TO -MY WIFE - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -IN PERSIMMON-TIME 1 - -BIRDS' WINTER BEDS 31 - -SOME SNUG WINTER BEDS 47 - -A BIRD OF THE DARK 65 - -THE PINE-TREE SWIFT 79 - -IN THE OCTOBER MOON 95 - -FEATHERED NEIGHBORS 111 - -"MUS'RATTIN'" 169 - -A STUDY IN BIRD MORALS 185 - -RABBIT ROADS 207 - -BRICK-TOP 233 - -SECOND CROPS 247 - -WOOD-PUSSIES 277 - -FROM RIVER-OOZE TO TREE-TOP 295 - -A BUZZARDS' BANQUET 321 - -UP HERRING RUN 341 - - - I wish to thank the editors of "Lippincott's Magazine," - "Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly," "Zion's Herald," and the - "Youth's Companion" for allowing me to reprint here the - chapters of "Wild Life Near Home" that first appeared in - their pages. - -DALLAS LORE SHARP. - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - -The feast is finished and the games are on _Frontispiece_ - -Ripe and rimy with November's frosts 5 - -Swinging from the limbs by their long prehensile tails 7 - -Under such conditions he looks quite like a ferocious beast 10 - -Filing through the corn-stubs 13 - -Here on the fence we waited 16 - -He had stopped for a meal on his way out 20 - -Playing possum 22 - -She was standing off a dog 26 - -The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds 37 - -There she stood in the snow with head high, listening anxiously 45 - -And--dreamed 46 - -I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster 52 - -The meadow-mouse 55 - -It was Whitefoot 60 - -From his leafless height he looks down into the Hollow 63 - -It caught at the insects in the air 71 - -Unlike any bird of the light 77 - -They peek around the tree-trunks 83 - -The sparrow-hawk searching the fences for them 88 - -In October they are building their winter lodges 103 - -The glimpse of Reynard in the moonlight 106 - -They probe the lawns most diligently for worms 117 - -Even he loves a listener 118 - -She flew across the pasture 121 - -Putting things to rights in his house 122 - -A very ordinary New England "corner" 124 - -They are the first to return in the spring 127 - -Where the dams are hawking for flies 130 - -They cut across the rainbow 135 - -The barn-swallows fetch the summer 137 - -From the barn to the orchard 138 - -Across the road, in an apple-tree, built a pair of redstarts 140 - -Gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her beak 143 - -In the tree next to the chebec's was a brood of robins. -The crude nest was wedged carelessly into the lowest fork -of the tree, so that the cats and roving boys could help -themselves without trouble 145 - -I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole 148 - -He will come if May comes 151 - -Within a few feet of me dropped the lonely frightened quail 152 - -On they go to a fence-stake 154 - -It was a love-song 156 - -But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly 161 - -In a dead yellow birch 163 - -So close I can look directly into it 164 - -Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and -went chuckling down the bank 170 - -The big moon was rising over the meadows 173 - -Section of muskrat's house 174 - -The snow has drifted over their house till only a -tiny mound appears 177 - -They rubbed noses 179 - -Two little brown creatures washing calamus 180 - -She melted away among the dark pines like a shadow 186 - -She called me every wicked thing that she could think of 189 - -It was one of those cathedral-like clumps 191 - -They were watching me 192 - -A triumph of love and duty over fear 199 - -He wants to know where I am and what I am about 203 - -In the agony of death 205 - -Calamity is hot on his track 212 - -Bunny, meantime, is watching just inside the next brier-patch 215 - -The squat is a cold place 217 - -The limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that fox 220 - -His drop is swift and certain 225 - -Seven young ones in the nest 231 - -The land of the mushroom 239 - -Witch-hazel 244 - -I knew it suited exactly 252 - -With tail up, head cocked, very much amazed, -and commenting vociferously 254 - -In a solemn row upon the wire fence 257 - -Young flying-squirrels 258 - -The sentinel crows are posted 260 - -She turned and fixed her big black eyes hard on me 265 - -Wrapped up like little Eskimos 266 - -It is no longer a sorry forest of battered, sunken stumps 269 - -Even the finger-board is a living pillar of ivy 272 - -A family of seven young skunks 284 - -The family followed 289 - -"Spring! spring! spring!" 300 - -A wretched little puddle 303 - -He _was_ trying to swallow something 307 - -In a state of soured silence 322 - -Ugliness incarnate 325 - -Sailing over the pines 328 - -A banquet this _sans_ toasts and cheer 333 - -Floating without effort among the clouds 337 - -From unknown regions of the ocean 345 - -A crooked, fretful little stream 346 - -Swimming, jumping, flopping, climbing, up he comes! 349 - -Here again hungry enemies await them 355 - - - - -IN PERSIMMON-TIME - - -[Illustration] - -WILD LIFE NEAR HOME - -[Illustration] - -IN PERSIMMON-TIME - - -The season of ripe persimmons in the pine-barren region of New Jersey -falls during the days of frosty mornings, of wind-strewn leaves and -dropping nuts. Melancholy days these may be in other States, but -never such here. The robin and the wren--I am not sure about all of -the wrens--are flown, just as the poet says; but the jay and the crow -are by no means the only birds that remain. Bob White calls from -the swales and "cut-offs"; the cardinal sounds his clear, brilliant -whistle in the thickets; and the meadow-lark, scaling across the -pastures, flirts his tail from the fence-stake and shouts, _Can you -see-e me?_ These are some of the dominant notes that still ring -through the woods and over the fields. Nor has every fleck of color -gone from the face of the out-of-doors. She is not yet a cold, white -body wrapped in her winding-sheet. The flush of life still lingers in -the stag-horn sumac, where it will burn brighter and warmer as the -shortening days darken and deaden; and there is more than a spark--it -is a steady glow--on the hillsides, where the cedar, pine, and holly -stand, that will live and cheer us throughout the winter. What the -soil has lost of life and vigor the winds have gained; and if the -birds are fewer now, there is a stirring of other animal life in the -open woods and wilder places that was quite lost in the bustle of -summer. - -And yet! it is a bare world, in spite of the snap and crispness and -the signs of harvest everywhere; a wider, silenter, sadder world, -though I cannot own a less beautiful world, than in summer. The corn -is cut, the great yellow shocks standing over the level fields like -weather-beaten tepees in deserted Indian villages; frosts have mown -the grass and stripped the trees, so that, from a bluff along the -creek, the glistening Cohansey can be traced down miles of its course, -and through the parted curtains, wide vistas of meadow and farm that -were entirely hidden by the green foliage lie open like a map. - -This is persimmon-time. Since most of the leaves have fallen, there is -no trouble in finding the persimmon-trees. They are sprinkled about -the woods, along the fences and highways, as naked as the other trees, -but conspicuous among them all because of their round, dark-red fruit. - -[Illustration: "Ripe and rimy with November's frosts."] - -What a season of fruit ours is! Opening down in the grass with the -wild strawberries of May, and continuing without break or stint, -to close high in the trees with the persimmon, ripe and rimy with -November's frosts! The persimmon is the last of the fruits. Long -before November the apples are gathered--even the "grindstones" are -buried by this time; the berries, too, have disappeared, except for -such seedy, juiceless things as hang to the cedar, the dogwood, and -greenbrier; and the birds have finished the scattered, hidden clusters -of racy chicken-grapes. The persimmons still hold on; but these are -not for long, unless you keep guard over the trees, for they are -marked: the possums have counted every persimmon. - -You will often wonder why you find so few persimmons upon the ground -after a windy, frosty night. Had you happened under the trees just -before daybreak, you would have seen a possum climbing about in the -highest branches, where the frost had most keenly nipped the fruit. -You would probably have seen two or three up the trees, if persimmons -were scarce and possums plentiful in the neighborhood, swinging from -the limbs by their long prehensile tails, and reaching out to the ends -of the twigs to gather in the soft, sugary globes. Should the wind be -high and the fruit dead ripe, you need not look into the trees for the -marauders; they will be upon the ground, nosing out the lumps as they -fall. A possum never does anything for himself that he can let the -gods do for him. - -Your tree is perhaps near the road and an old rail-pile. Then you -may expect to find your persimmons rolled up in possum fat among the -rails; for here the thieves are sure to camp throughout the persimmon -season, as the berry-pickers camp in the pines during huckleberry-time. - -Possums and persimmons come together, and Uncle Jethro pronounces -them "bofe good fruit." He is quite right. The old darky is not alone -in his love of possums. To my thinking, he shows a nice taste in -preferring November possum to chicken. - -[Illustration: "Swinging from the limbs by their long prehensile -tails."] - -It is a common thing, in passing through Mount Zion or Springtown in -the winter, to see what, at first glance, looks like a six-weeks' pig -hanging from an up-stairs window, but which, on inspection, proves -to be a possum, scalded, scraped, and cleaned for roasting, suspended -there, out of the reach of dogs and covetous neighbors, for the extra -flavor of a freezing. Now stuff it and roast it, and I will swap my -Thanksgiving turkey for it as quickly as will Uncle Jethro himself. - -Though the possum is toothsome, he is such a tame, lumbering dolt that -few real sportsmen care for the sorry joy of killing him. Innumerable -stories have been told of the excitement of possum-hunting; but after -many winters, well sprinkled with moonlight tramps and possums, I -can liken the sport to nothing more thrilling than a straw-ride or a -quilting-party. - -There is the exhilarating tramp through the keen, still night, and if -possum-hunting will take one out to the woods for such tramps, then it -is quite worth while. - -No one could hunt possums except at night. It would be unendurably -dull by daylight. The moon and the dark lend a wonderful largeness to -the woods, transforming the familiar day-scenes into strange, wild -regions through which it is an adventure merely to walk. There is -magic in darkness. However dead by day, the fields and woods are fully -alive at night. We stop at the creaking of the bare boughs overhead as -if some watchful creature were about to spring upon us; every stump -and bush is an animal that we have startled into sudden fixedness; and -out of every shadow we expect a live thing to rise up and withstand -us. The hoot of the owl, the bark of the fox, the whinny of the coon, -send shivers of excitement over us. We jump at a mouse in the leaves -near by. - -Helped out by the spell of moonlight and the collusion of a ready -fancy, it is possible to have a genuine adventure by seizing a logy, -grinning possum by the tail and dragging him out of a stump. Under -such conditions he looks quite like a ferocious beast, grunting and -hissing with wide-open mouth; and you may feel just a thrill of the -real savage's joy as you sling him over your shoulder. - -[Illustration: "Under such conditions he looks quite like a ferocious -beast."] - -But never go after possums alone, nor with a white man. If you must -go, then go with Uncle Jethro and Calamity. I remember particularly -one night's hunt with Uncle Jethro. I had come upon him in the evening -out on the kitchen steps watching the rim of the rising moon across -the dark, stubby corn-field. It was November, and the silver light was -spreading a plate of frost over the field and its long, silent rows of -corn-shocks. - -When Uncle Jethro studied the clouds or the moon in this way, it meant -a trip to the meadows or the swamp; it was a sure sign that geese had -gone over, that the possums and coons were running. - -I knew to-night--for I could smell the perfume of the ripe persimmons -on the air--that down by the creek, among the leafless tops of the -persimmon-trees, Uncle Jethro saw a possum. - -"Is it Br'er Possum or Br'er Coon, Uncle Jethro?" I asked, slyly, just -as if I did not know. - -"Boosh! boosh!" sputtered the old darky, terribly scared by my sudden -appearance. "W'at yo' 'xplodin' my cogitations lak dat fo'? W'at I -know 'bout any possum? Possum, boy? Possum? W'at yo' mean?" - -"Don't you sniff the 'simmons, Uncle Jeth?" - -Instinctively he threw his nose into the air. - -"G' 'way, boy; g' 'way fum yhere! I ain't seen no possum. I 's -thinkin' 'bout dat las' camp-meetin' in de pines"; and he began to -hum: - - "Lawd, I wunda, who kilt John Henry, - In de la-ane, in de lane." - -Half an hour later we were filing through the corn-stubs toward the -creek. Uncle Jethro carried his long musket under his arm; I had a -stout hickory stick and a meal-sack; while ahead of us, like a sailor -on shore, rolled Calamity, the old possum-dog. - -If in June come perfect days, then perfect nights come in November. -There is one thing, at least, as rare as a June day, and that is a -clear, keen November night, enameled with frost and set with the -hunter's moon. - -Uncle Jethro was not thinking of last summer's camp-meeting now; but -still he crooned softly a camp-meeting melody: - - "Sheep an' de goats a- - Gwine to de pastcha, - Sheep tell de goats, 'Ain't yo' - Walk a leetle fasta?' - - "Lawd, I wunda, who kilt John Henry, - In de la-ane, in de lane. - - "Coon he up a gum-tree, - Possum in de holla; - Coon he roll hi'self in ha'r, - Possum roll in talla. - - "Lawd, I wunda--" - -until we began to skirt Cubby Hollow, when he suddenly brought himself -up with a snap. - -It was Calamity "talkin' in one of her tongues." The short, sharp -bark came down from the fence at the brow of the hill. Uncle Jethro -listened. - -[Illustration: "Filing through the corn-stubs."] - -"Jis squirrel-talk, dat. She'll talk possum by-um-bit, she will. Ain't -no possum-dog in des diggin's kin talk possum wid C'lamity. An' w'en -_she_ talk possum, ol' man possum gotter listen. Sell C'lamity? Dat -dog can't be bought, she can't." - -As we came under the persimmon-trees at the foot of Lupton's Pond, -the moon was high enough to show us that no possum had been here yet, -for there was abundance of the luscious, frost-nipped fruit upon the -ground. In the bare trees the persimmons hung like silver beads. We -stopped to gather a few, when Calamity woke the woods with her cry. - -"Dar he is! C'lamity done got ol' man possum now! Down by de bend! -Dat's possum-talk, big talk, fat talk!" And we hurried after the dog. - -We had gone half a mile, and Uncle Jethro had picked himself up at -least three times, when I protested. - -"Uncle Jeth!" I cried, "that's an awfully long-legged possum. He'll -run all his fat off before we catch him." - -"Dat's so, boy, shu' 'nough! W'at dat ol' fool dog tree a long-legged -possum fo', nohow? Yer, C'lamity, 'lamity, yer, yer!" he yelled, as -the hound doubled and began to track the _rabbit_ back toward us. - -We were thoroughly cooled before Calamity appeared. She was boxed on -the ear and sent off again with the command to talk possum next time -or be shot. - -She was soon talking again. This time it _must_ be possum-talk. There -could be no mistake about that long, steady, placid howl. The dog must -be under a tree or beside a stump waiting for us. As Uncle Jethro -heard the cry he chuckled, and a new moon broke through his dusky -countenance. - -"Yhear dat? _Dat's_ possum-talk. C'lamity done meet up wid de ol' man -dis time, shu'." - -And so she had, as far as we could see. She was lying restfully on -the bank of a little stream, her head in the air, singing that long, -lonesome strain which Uncle Jethro called her possum-talk. It was -a wonderfully faithful reproduction of her master's camp-meeting -singing. One of his weird, wordless melodies seemed to have passed -into the old dog's soul. - -But what was she calling us for? As we came up we looked around for -the tree, the stump, the fallen log; but there was not a splinter -in sight. Uncle Jethro was getting nervous. Calamity rose, as we -approached, and pushed her muzzle into a muskrat's smooth, black hole. -This was too much. She saw it, and hung her head, for she knew what -was coming. - -"Look yhere, yo' obtuscious ol' fool. W'at yo' 'sociatin' wid a -low-down possum as takes t' mus'rats' holes? W'at I done tol' yo' -'bout dis? Go 'long home! Go 'long en talk de moon up a tree." And as -Uncle Jethro dropped upon his knees by the hole, Calamity slunk away -through the brush. - -I held up a bunch of freshly washed grass-roots. - -"Uncle Jeth, this must be a new species of possum; he eats roots like -any muskrat," I said innocently. - -It was good for Calamity not to be there just then. Uncle Jethro loved -her as he would have loved a child; but he vowed, as he picked up his -gun: "De nex' time dat no-'count dog don't talk possum, yo' 'll see de -buzzard 'bout, yo' will." - -We tramped up the hill and on through the woods to some open fields. -Here on the fence we waited for Calamity's signal. - -[Illustration: "Here on the fence we waited."] - -"Did you say you wouldn't put any price on Calamity, Uncle Jethro?" I -asked as we waited. - -There was no reply. - -"Going to roast this possum, aren't you?" - -Silence. - -"Am I going to have an invite, Uncle Jeth?" - -"Hush up, boy! How we gwine yhear w'at dat dog say?" - -"Calamity? Why, didn't you tell her to go home?" - -The woods were still. A little screech-owl off in the trees was the -only creature that disturbed the brittle silence. The owl was flitting -from perch to perch, coming nearer us. - -"W'at dat owl say?" whispered Uncle Jethro, starting. "'No possum'? -'no possum'? 'no possum'? Come 'long home, boy," he commanded aloud. -"W'en ol' Miss Owl say 'No possum,' C'lamity herself ain't gwine git -none." And sliding to the ground, he trudged off for home. - -We were back again in the corn-field with an empty sack. The moon was -riding high near eleven o'clock. From behind a shock Calamity joined -us, falling in at the rear like one of our shadows. Of course Uncle -Jethro did not see her. He was proud of the rheumatic old hound, -and a night like this nipped his pride as the first frosts nip the -lima-beans. - -It was the owl's evil doing, he argued all the way home. "W'en ol' -Miss Owl say 'Stay in'--no use: - - 'Simmons sweet, 'simmons red, - Ain't no possum leave his bed. - -All de dogs in Mount Zion won't fin' no possum out dis night." - -No; it was not Calamity's fault: it was Miss Owl's. - -We were turning in back of the barn when there came a sudden yelp, -sharp as a pistol-shot, and Calamity darted through Uncle Jethro's -legs, almost upsetting him, making straight for the yard. At the same -moment I caught sight of a large creature hurrying with a wabbly, -uncertain gait along the ridge-pole of the hen-house. - -It was a possum--as big as a coon. He was already half-way down the -side of the coop; but Calamity was below him, howling like mad. - -Uncle Jethro nearly unjointed himself. Before the frightened animal -had time to faint, the triumphant hunter was jouncing him up and down -inside the sack, and promising the bones and baking-pan to Calamity. - -"W'at dat yo' mumblin', boy? Gwine ax yo'self a' invite? G' 'way; g' -'way; yo' don' lak possum. W'at dat yo' sayin' 'g'in' C'lamity? Yo' -'s needin' sleep, chil', yo' is. Ain't I done tol' yo' dat dog gwine -talk possum by-um-bit? W'at dem 'flections 'g'in' ol' Miss Owl? Boosh, -boy! Dat all fool-talk, w'at ol' Miss Owl say. We done been layin' -low jis s'prise yo', me an' C'lamity an' ol' Miss Owl has." And as he -placed the chopping-block upon the barrel to keep the possum safe till -morning, he began again: - - "Coon he up a gum-tree, - Possum in de holla; - Coon he roll hi'self in ha'r, - Possum roll in talla. - - "Lawd, I wunda, who kilt John Henry, - In de la-ane, in de lane." - -The next morning Uncle Jethro went to get his possum. But the possum -was gone. The chopping-block lay on the woodshed floor, the cover of -the barrel was pushed aside, and the only trace of the animal was a -bundle of seed-corn that he had pulled from a nail overhead and left -half eaten on the floor. He had stopped for a meal on his way out. - -Uncle Jethro, with Uncle Remus, gives Br'er Rabbit the wreath for -craft; but in truth the laurel belongs to Br'er Possum. He is an -eternal surprise. Either he is the most stupidly wise animal of the -woods, or the most wisely stupid. He is a puzzle. Apparently his one -unburied talent is heaviness. Joe, the fat boy, was not a sounder nor -more constant sleeper, nor was his mental machinery any slower than -the possum's. The little beast is utterly wanting in swiftness and -weapons, his sole hope and defense being luck and indifference. To -luck and indifference he trusts life and happiness. And who can say he -does not prosper--that he does not roll in fat? - -[Illustration: "He had stopped for a meal on his way out."] - -I suppose there once were deer and otter in the stretches of wild -woodland along the Cohansey; but a fox is rare here now, and the coon -by no means abundant. Indeed, the rabbit, even with the help of the -game laws, has a hard time. Yet the possum, unprotected by law, slow -of foot, slower of thought, and worth fifty cents in any market, still -flourishes along the creek. - -A greyhound must push to overtake a rabbit, but I have run down a -possum with my winter boots on in less than half-way across a clean -ten-acre field. He ambles along like a bear, swinging his head from -side to side to see how fast you are gaining upon him. When you come -up and touch him with your foot, over he goes, grunting and grinning -with his mouth wide open. If you nudge him further, or bark, he will -die--but he will come to life again when you turn your back. - -Some scientifically minded people believe that this "playing possum" -follows as a physiological effect of fear; that is, they say the -pulse slackens, the temperature falls, and, as a result, instead of a -pretense of being dead, the poor possum actually swoons. - -A physiologist in his laboratory, with stethoscope, sphygmoscope, -thermometer, and pneumonometer, may be able to scare a possum into a -fit--I should say he might; but I doubt if a plain naturalist in the -woods, with only his two eyes, a jack-knife, and a bit of string, was -ever able to make the possum do more than "play possum." - -We will try to believe with the laboratory investigator that the -possum does genuinely faint. However, it will not be rank heresy to -run over this leaf from my diary. It records a faithful diagnosis -of the case as I observed it. The statement does not claim to be -scientific; I mean that there were no 'meters or 'scopes of any kind -used. It is simply what I saw and have seen a hundred times. Here is -the entry: - -[Illustration: Playing possum.] - - - POSSUM-FAINT - - _Cause._ My sudden appearance before the patient. - - _Symptoms._ A backing away with open mouth and unpleasant - hisses until forcibly stopped, when the patient falls - on one side, limp and helpless, a long, unearthly smile - overspreading the face; the off eye closed, the near eye - just ajar; no muscular twitching, but most decided attempts - to get up and run as soon as my back is turned. - - _Treatment._ My non-interference. - - _Note._ Recovery instantaneous with my removal ten feet. - This whole performance repeated twelve times in as many - minutes. - - December 26, 1893. - -I have known the possum too long for a ready faith in his extreme -nervousness, too long to believe him so hysterical that the least -surprise can frighten him into fits. He has a reasonable fear of dogs; -no fear at all of cats; and will take his chances any night with a -coon for the possession of a hollow log. He will live in the same -burrow with other possums, with owls,--with anything in fact,--and -overlook any bearable imposition; he will run away from everything, -venture anywhere, and manage to escape from the most impossible -situations. Is this an epileptic, an unstrung, flighty creature? -Possibly; but look at him. He rolls in fat; and how long has obesity -been the peculiar accompaniment of nervousness? - -It is the amazing coolness of the possum, however, that most -completely disposes of the scientist's pathetic tale of unsteady -nerves. A creature that will deliberately walk into a trap, spring -it, eat the bait, then calmly lie down and sleep until the trapper -comes, has no nerves. I used to catch a possum, now and then, in the -box-traps set for rabbits. It is a delicate task to take a rabbit -from such a trap; for, give him a crack of chance and away he bolts -to freedom. Open the lid carefully when there is a possum inside, and -you will find the old fellow curled up with a sweet smile of peace on -his face, fast asleep. Shake the trap, and he rouses yawningly, with a -mildly injured air, offended at your rudeness, and wanting to know why -you should wake an innocent possum from so safe and comfortable a bed. -He blinks at you inquiringly and says: "Please, sir, if you will be so -kind as to shut the door and go away, I will finish my nap." And while -he is saying it, before your very eyes, off to sleep he goes. - -Is this nervousness? What, then, is it--stupidity or insolence? - -Physically as well as psychologically the possums are out of the -ordinary. As every one knows, they are marsupials; that is, they have -a pouch or pocket on the abdomen in which they carry the young. Into -this pocket the young are transferred as soon as they are born, and -were it not for this strange half-way house along the journey of their -development they would perish. - -At birth a possum is little more than formed--the least mature babe -among all of our mammals. It is only half an inch long, blind, deaf, -naked, and so weak and helpless as to be unable to open its mouth or -even cry. Such babies are rare. The smallest young mice you ever saw -are as large as possums at their birth. They weigh only about four -grains, the largest of them, and are so very tiny that the mother -has to fasten each to a teat and _force_ the milk down each wee -throat--for they cannot even swallow. - -They live in this cradle for about five weeks, by which time they can -creep out and climb over their mother. They are then about the size of -full-grown mice, and the dearest of wood babies. They have sharp pink -noses, snapping black eyes, gray fur, and the longest, barest tails. -I think that the most interesting picture I ever saw in the woods was -an old mother possum with eleven little ones clinging to her. She was -standing off a dog as I came up, and every one of the eleven was -peeking out, immensely enjoying this first adventure. The quizzing -snouts of six were poked out in a bunch from the cradle-pouch, while -the other five mites were upon their mother's back, where they had -been playing Jack-and-the-beanstalk up and down her tail. - -[Illustration: "She was standing off a dog."] - -Historically, also, the possum is a conundrum. He has not a single -relative on this continent, except those on exhibition in zoölogical -gardens. He left kith and kin behind in Australia when he came over to -our country. How he got here, and when, we do not know. Clouds hang -heavy over the voyages of all the discoverers of America. The possum -was one of the first to find us, and when did he land, I wonder? How -long before Columbus, and Leif, son of Eric? - -In his appetite the possum is no way peculiar, except, perhaps, that -he takes the seasons' menus entire. Between persimmon-times he eats -all sorts of animal food, and is a much better hunter than we usually -give him credit for. Considering his slowness, too, he manages to -plod over an amazing amount of territory in the course of his evening -rambles. He starts out at dusk, and wanders around all night, planning -his hunt so as to get back to his lair by dawn. Sometimes at daybreak -he is a long way from home. Not being able to see well in the light, -and rather than run into needless danger, he then crawls into the -nearest hole or under the first rail-pile he comes to; or else he -climbs a tree, and, wrapping his tail about a limb, settles himself -comfortably in a forked branch quite out of sight, and sleeps till -darkness comes again. - -[Illustration] - -On these expeditions he picks up frogs, fish, eggs, birds, mice, corn, -and in winter a chicken here and there. - -In the edge of a piece of woods along the Cohansey there used to stand -a large hen-coop surrounded by a ten-foot fence of wire netting. One -winter several chickens were missing here, and though rats and other -prowlers about the pen were caught, still the chickens continued to -disappear. - -One morning a possum was seen to descend the wire fence and enter the -coop through the small square door used by the fowls. We ran in; but -there was no possum to be found. We thought we had searched everywhere -until, finally, one of us lifted the lids off a rusty old stove that -had been used to heat the coop the winter before, and there was the -possum, with two companions, snug and warm, in a nest of feathers on -the grate. - -Here were the remains of the lost chickens. These sly thieves had -camped in this stove ever since autumn, crawling in and out through -the stovepipe hole. During the day they slept quietly; and at night, -when the chickens were at roost, the old rascals would slip out, grab -the nearest one, pull it into the stove, and feast. - -Is there anything on record in the way of audacity better than that? - -[Illustration] - - - - -BIRDS' WINTER BEDS - - -[Illustration] - -BIRDS' WINTER BEDS - - The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold. - - -A storm had been raging from the northeast all day. Toward evening -the wind strengthened to a gale, and the fine, icy snow swirled and -drifted over the frozen fields. - -I lay a long time listening to the wild symphony of the winds, -thankful for the roof over my head, and wondering how the hungry, -homeless creatures out of doors would pass the night. Where do the -birds sleep such nights as this? Where in this bitter cold, this -darkness and storm, will they make their beds? The lark that broke -from the snow at my feet as I crossed the pasture this afternoon-- - - What comes o' thee? - Whar wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, - An' close thy e'e? - -The storm grew fiercer; the wind roared through the big pines by the -side of the house and swept hoarsely on across the fields; the pines -shivered and groaned, and their long limbs scraped over the shingles -above me as if feeling with frozen fingers for a way in; the windows -rattled, the cracks and corners of the old farm-house shrieked, and a -long, thin line of snow sifted in from beneath the window across the -garret floor. I fancied these sounds of the storm were the voices of -freezing birds, crying to be taken in from the cold. Once I thought I -heard a thud against the window, a sound heavier than the rattle of -the snow. Something seemed to be beating at the glass. It might be a -bird. I got out of bed to look; but there was only the ghostly face -of the snow pressed against the panes, half-way to the window's top. -I imagined that I heard the thud again; but, while listening, fell -asleep and dreamed that my window was frozen fast, and that all the -birds in the world were knocking at it, trying to get in out of the -night and storm. - -The fields lay pure and white and flooded with sunshine when I awoke. -Jumping out of bed, I ran to the window, and saw a dark object on the -sill outside. I raised the sash, and there, close against the glass, -were two quails--frozen stiff in the snow. It was they I heard the -night before fluttering at the window. The ground had been covered -deep with snow for several days, and at last, driven by hunger and -cold from the fields, they saw my light, and sought shelter from the -storm and a bed for the night with me. - -Four others, evidently of the same covey, spent the night in the -wagon-house, and in the morning helped themselves fearlessly to the -chickens' breakfast. They roosted with the chickens several nights, -but took to the fields again as soon as the snow began to melt. - -It is easy to account for our winter birds during the day. Along -near noon, when it is warm and bright, you will find the sparrows, -chickadees, and goldfinches searching busily among the bushes and -weeds for food, and the crows and jays scouring the fields. But what -about them during the dark? Where do they pass the long winter nights? - -Why, they have nests, you say. Yes, they _had_ nests in the summer, -and then, perhaps, one of the parent birds may be said to have slept -in the nest during the weeks of incubation and rearing of the young. -But nests are cradles, not beds, and are never used by even the young -birds from the day they leave them. Muskrats build houses, foxes have -holes, and squirrels sleep in true nests; but of the birds it can -be said, "they have not where to lay their heads." They sleep upon -their feet in the grass, in hollow trees, and among the branches; -but, at best, such a bed is no more than a roost. A large part of -the year this roost is new every night, so that the question of a -sleeping-place during the winter is most serious. - -The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds and -grass-stalks down and scatter their chaff over the snow, sleep in -the thick cedars and pines. These warm, close-limbed evergreens I -have found to be the lodging-houses of many of the smaller winter -birds--the fox-colored sparrow, snowbird, crossbill, and sometimes of -the chickadee, though he usually tucks his little black cap under his -wing in a woodpecker's hole. - -[Illustration: "The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried -ragweeds."] - -The meadow-larks always roost upon the ground. They creep well under -the grass, or, if the wind is high and it snows, they squat close to -the ground behind a tuft of grass or thick bush and sleep while the -cold white flakes fall about them. They are often covered before the -morning; and when housed thus from the wind and hidden from prowling -enemies, no bird could wish for a cozier, warmer, safer bed. - -But what a lonely bed it is! Nothing seems so utterly homeless and -solitary as a meadow-lark after the winter nightfall. In the middle of -a wide, snow-covered pasture one will occasionally spring from under -your feet, scattering the snow that covered him, and go whirring away -through the dusk, lost instantly in the darkness--a single little life -in the wild, bleak wilderness of winter fields! - -Again, the grass is often a dangerous bed. On the day before the great -March blizzard of 1888, the larks were whistling merrily from the -fences, with just a touch of spring in their call. At noon I noted no -signs of storm, but by four o'clock--an hour earlier than usual--the -larks had disappeared. They rose here and there from the grass as I -crossed the fields, not as they do when feeding, far ahead of me, but -close to my feet. They had gone to bed. By early evening the snow -began to fall, and for two days continued furiously. - -A week later, when the deep drifts melted, I found several larks that -had perished from cold or starvation or had smothered under the weight -of snow. - -There is something of awe in the thought of a bird nestling close -beneath a snow-laden bush in a broad meadow, or clinging fast to a -limb in the swaying top of some tall tree, rocked in its great arms -through the night by a winter gale. All trees, even the pines and -cedars, are fearfully exposed sleeping-places, and death from cold is -not infrequent among the birds that take beds in them. - -The pine barrens, and especially certain pine clumps along Cohansey -Creek and at the head of Cubby Hollow, used to be famous crow-roosts. -Thousands of the birds, a few years ago, frequented these pieces of -wood in the winter. About the middle of the afternoon, during the -severest weather, they begin to fly over to the roost at the head of -the Hollow, coming in from the surrounding fields, some of them from -miles away, where they have been foraging all day for food. You can -tell the character of the weather by the manner of their flight. In -the fall and spring they went over cawing, chasing each other and -performing in the air; they were happy, and life was as abundant -as the spring promise or the autumn fullness everywhere. But in -January the land is bare and hard, and life correspondingly lean and -cheerless. You see it in their heavy, dispirited flight; all their -spring joyousness is gone; they pass over silent and somber, reluctant -to leave the fields, and fearful of the night. There is not a croak as -they settle among the pines--scores, sometimes hundreds of them, in a -single tree. - -Here, in the swaying tops, amid the heavy roar of the winds, they -sleep. You need have no fear of waking them as you steal through the -shadows beneath the trees. The thick mat of needles or the sifted snow -muffles your footfalls; and the winds still the breaking branches and -snapping twigs. What a bed in a winter storm! The sky is just light -enough for you to distinguish the dim outlines of the sleepers as they -rock in the waves of the dark green that rise and fall above you; the -trees moan, the branches shiver and creak, and high above all, around -and beneath you, filling the recesses of the dark wood rolls the -volume of the storm. - -But the crows sleep on, however high the winds. They sit close to -the branches, that the feathers may cover their clinging feet; they -tuck their heads beneath their wing-coverts, thus protecting the -whole body, except one side of the head, which the feathers of the -wing cannot quite shelter. This leaves an eye exposed, and this eye, -like the heel of Achilles, proves to be the one vulnerable spot. It -freezes in very severe weather, causing a slow, painful death. In -the morning, after an unusually cold night, you can find dozens of -crows flapping piteously about in the trees of the roost and upon the -ground, with frozen eyes. In January, 1895, I saw very many of them -along the Hollow, blind in one eye or in both eyes, dying of pain and -starvation. It was pitiful to see their sufferings. The snow in places -was sprinkled with their broken feathers, and with pine-needles which -they had plucked off and tried to eat. Nothing could be done for the -poor things. I have tried time and again to doctor them; but they were -sure to die in the end. - -Who has not wondered, as he has seen the red rim of the sun sink down -in the sea, where the little brood of Mother Carey's chickens skimming -round the vessel would sleep that night? Or who, as he hears the -_honking_ of geese overhead in the darkness, has not questioned by -what - - ... plashy brink - Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, - Or where the rocking billows rise and sink - On the chafed ocean-side, - -they will find rest? - -In winter, when a heavy southeast wind is blowing, the tides of -Delaware Bay are high and the waters very rough. Then the ducks that -feed along the reedy flats of the bay are driven into the quieter -water of the creeks, and at night fly into the marshes, where they -find safe beds in the "salt-holes." - -The salt-holes are sheets of water having no outlet, with clean -perpendicular sides as if cut out of the grassy marsh, varying in size -from a few feet wide to an acre in extent. The sedges grow luxuriantly -around their margins, making a thick, low wall in winter, against -which the winds blow in vain. If a bird must sleep in the water, such -a hole comes as near to being a perfect cradle as anything could be, -short of the bottom of a well. - -The ducks come in soon after dark. You can hear the whistle of their -wings as they pass just above your head, skimming along the marsh. -They settle in a hole, swim close up to the windward shore, beneath -the sedges, and, with their heads under their wings, go fast asleep. -And as they sleep the ice begins to form--first, along their side of -the hole, where the water is calmest; then, extending out around them, -it becomes a hard sheet across the surface. - -A night that will freeze a salt-hole is not one in which there is -likely to be much hunting done by man or beast. But I have been on the -marshes such nights, and so have smaller and more justified hunters. -It is not a difficult feat to surprise the sleeping ducks. The ice is -half an inch thick when you come up, and seals the hole completely, -save immediately about the bodies of the birds. Their first impulse, -when taken thus at close range, is to dive; and down they go, turning -in their tracks. - -Will they get out? One may chance to strike the hole which his warm -body kept open, as he rises to breathe; but it is more likely that he -will come up under the ice, and drown. I have occasionally found a -dead duck beneath the ice or floating in the water of a salt-hole. It -had been surprised, no doubt, while sleeping, and, diving in fright, -was drowned under the ice, which had silently spread like a strange, -dreadful covering over its bed. - -Probably the life of no other of our winter birds is so full of -hardship as is that of the quail, Bob White. - -In the early summer the quails are hatched in broods of from ten to -twenty, and live as families until the pairing season the next spring. -The chicks keep close to the neighborhood of the home nest, feeding -and roosting together, under the guidance of the parent birds. But -this happy union is soon broken by the advent of the gunning season. -It is seldom that a bevy escapes this period whole and uninjured. -Indeed, if _one_ of the brood is left to welcome the spring it is -little less than a miracle. - -I have often heard the scattered, frightened families called together -after a day of hard shooting; and once, in the old pasture to the -north of Cubby Hollow, I saw the bevy assemble. - -It was long after sunset, but the snow so diffused the light that I -could see pretty well. In climbing the fence into the pasture, I -had started a rabbit, and was creeping up behind a low cedar, when -a quail, very near me, whistled softly, _Whirl-ee!_ The cedar was -between us. _Whirl-ee, whirl-ee-gig!_ she whistled again. - -[Illustration: "There she stood in the snow with head high, listening -anxiously."] - -It was the sweetest bird-note I ever heard, being so low, so liquid, -so mellow that I almost doubted if Bob White could make it. But there -she stood in the snow with head high, listening anxiously. Again she -whistled, louder this time; and from the woods below came a faint -answering call: _White!_ The answer seemed to break a spell; and on -three sides of me sounded other calls. At this the little signaler -repeated her efforts, and each time the answers came louder and -nearer. Presently something dark hurried by me over the snow and -joined the quail I was watching. It was one of the covey that I had -heard call from the woods. - -Again and again the signal was sent forth until a third, fourth, and -finally a fifth were grouped about the leader. There was just an -audible twitter of welcome and gratitude exchanged as each new-comer -made his appearance. Once more the whistle sounded; but this time -there was no response across the silent field. - -The quails made their way to a thick cedar that spread out over the -ground, and, huddling together in a close bunch under this, they -murmured something soft and low among themselves and--dreamed. - -Some of the family were evidently missing, and I crept away, sorry -that even one had been taken from the little brood. - -[Illustration: "And--dreamed."] - - - - -SOME SNUG WINTER BEDS - - -[Illustration] - -SOME SNUG WINTER BEDS - - -It was a cold, desolate January day. Scarcely a sprig of green showed -in the wide landscape, except where the pines stood in a long blur -against the gray sky. There was not a sign that anything living -remained in the snow-buried fields, nor in the empty woods, shivering -and looking all the more uncovered and cold under their mantle of -snow, until a solitary crow flapped heavily over toward the pines in -search of an early bed for the night. - -The bird reminded me that I, too, should be turning toward the pines; -for the dull gray afternoon was thickening into night, and my bed lay -beyond the woods, a long tramp through the snow. - -As the black creature grew small in the distance and vanished among -the trees, I felt a pang of pity for him. I knew by his flight that he -was hungry and weary and cold. Every labored stroke of his unsteady -wings told of a long struggle with the winter death. He was silent; -and his muteness spoke the foreboding and dread with which he faced -another bitter night in the pines. - -The snow was half-way to my knees; and still another storm was -brewing. All day the leaden sky had been closing in, weighed down by -the snow-filled air. That hush which so often precedes the severest -winter storms brooded everywhere. The winds were in leash--no, not in -leash; for had my ears been as keen as those of the creatures about -me, I might even now have heard them baying far away to the north. It -was not the winds that were still; it was the fields and forests that -quailed before the onset of the storm. - -I skirted Lupton's Pond and saw the muskrat village, a collection of -white mounds out in the ice, and coming on to Cubby Hollow, I crossed -on the ice, ascended the hill, and keeping in the edge of the swamp, -left the pines a distance to the left. A chickadee, as if oppressed by -the silence and loneliness among the trees, and uneasy in his stout -little heart at the threatening storm, flew into the bushes as near -to me as he could get, and, apparently for the sake of companionship, -followed me along the path, cheeping plaintively. - -As I emerged from the woods into a corn-field and turned to look over -at the gloomy pines, a snowflake fell softly upon my arm. The storm -had begun. Now the half-starved crows came flocking in by hundreds, -hurrying to roost before the darkness should overtake them. A biting -wind was rising; already I could hear it soughing through the pines. -There was something fascinating in the oncoming monster, and backing -up behind a corn-shock, I stopped a little to watch the sweep of its -white winds between me and the dark, sounding pines. - -I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster. How the wild, -unhoused things must suffer to-night! I thought, as the weary -procession of crows beat on toward the trees. Presently there was -a small stir within the corn-shock. I laid my ear to the stalks and -listened. Mice! I could hear them moving around in there. It was with -relief that I felt that here, at least, was a little people whom the -cold and night could not hurt. - -[Illustration: "I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster."] - -These mice were as warmly sheltered inside this great shock as I -should be in my furnace-warmed home. Their tiny nests of corn-silk, -hidden away, perhaps, within the stiff, empty husks at the shock's -very center, could never be wet by a drop of the most driving rain nor -reached by the most searching frosts. And not a mouse of them feared -starvation. A plenty of nubbins had been left from the husking, and -they would have corn for the shelling far into the spring--if the -fodder and their homes should be left to them so long. - -I floundered on toward home. In the gathering night, amid the swirl -of the snow, the shocks seemed like spectral tents pitched up and -down some ghostly camp. But the specters and ghosts were all with me, -all out in the whirling storm. The mice knew nothing of wandering, -shivering spirits; they nibbled their corn and squeaked in snug -contentment; for only dreams of the winter come to them in there. - -These shock-dwellers were the common house-mice, _Mus musculus_. But -they are not the only mice that have warm beds in winter. In fact, -bed-making is a specialty among the mice. - -_Zapus_, the jumping-mouse, the exquisite little fellow with the long -tail and kangaroo legs, has made his nest of leaves and grass down -in the ground, where he lies in a tiny ball just out of the frost's -reach, fast asleep. He will be plowed out of bed next spring, if his -nest is in a field destined for corn or melons; for _Zapus_ is sure -to oversleep. He is a very sound sleeper. The bluebirds, robins, -and song-sparrows will have been back for weeks, the fields will be -turning green, and as for the flowers, there will be a long procession -of them started, before this pretty sleepy-head rubs his eyes, uncurls -himself, and digs his way out to see the new spring morning. - -Does this winter-long sleep seem to him only as a nap overnight? - -[Illustration: The meadow-mouse.] - -_Arvicola_, the meadow-mouse, that duck-legged, stump-tailed, -pot-bellied mouse whose paths you see everywhere in the meadows -and fields, stays wide awake all winter. He is not so tender as -_Zapus_. The cold does not bother him; he likes it. Up he comes from -his underground nest,--or home, rather, for it is more than a mere -sleeping-place,--and runs out into the snow like a boy. He dives -and plunges about in the soft white drifts, plowing out roads that -crisscross and loop and lady's-chain and lead nowhere--simply for the -fun of it. - -Fairies do wonderful things and live in impossible castles; but no -fairy ever had a palace in fairy-land more impossible than this -unfairy-like meadow-mouse had in my back yard. - -One February day I broke through the frozen crust of earth in the -garden and opened a large pit in which forty bushels of beets were -buried. I took out the beets, and, when near the bottom, I came upon a -narrow tunnel running around the wall of the pit like the Whispering -Gallery around the dome of St. Paul's. It completely circled the pit, -was well traveled, and, without doubt, was the corridor of some small -animal that had the great beet-pit for a winter home. - -There were numerous dark galleries branching off from this main -hallway, piercing out into the ground. Into one of these I put my -finger, by way of discovery, thinking I might find the nest. I did -find the nest--and more. The instant my finger entered the hole a -sharp twinge shot up my arm, and I snatched away my hand with a -large meadow-mouse fastened to the end of my finger, and clinging -desperately to her, lo! two baby mice, little bigger than thimbles. - -In this mild and even temperature, four feet below the frozen surface -of the garden, with never a care as to weather and provisions, dwelt -this single family of meadow-mice. What a home it was! A mansion, -indeed, with rooms innumerable, and a main hall girdling a very -mountain of juicy, sugary beets. This family could not complain of -hard times. Besides the beets, the mice had harvested for themselves -a number of cribs of clover-roots. These cribs, or bins, were in -the shape of little pockets in the walls of the great gallery. Each -contained a cupful of the thick, meaty tap-roots of clover, cut into -lengths of about half an inch. If the beets should fail (!), or cloy -upon them, they had the roots to fall back on. - -It was absolutely dark here, and worse; there was no way to get fresh -air that I could see. Yet here two baby mice were born in the very -dead of winter, and here they grew as strong and warm and happy as -they would have grown had the season showered rose-petals instead of -snowflakes over the garden above. - -_Hesperomys_ is the rather woodsy name of the white-footed or -deer-mouse, a shy, timid little creature dwelling in every wood, who, -notwithstanding his abundance, is an utter stranger to most of us. We -are more familiar with his tracks, however, than with even those of -the squirrel and rabbit. His is that tiny double trail galloped across -the snowy paths in the woods. We see them sprinkled over the snow -everywhere; but when have we seen the feet that left them? Here goes -a line of the wee prints from a hole in the snow near a stump over to -the butt of a large pine. Whitefoot has gone for provender to one of -his storehouses among the roots of the pine; or maybe a neighbor lives -here, and he has left his nest of bird-feathers in the stump to make a -friendly call after the storm. - -A bed of downy feathers at the heart of a punky old stump beneath -the snow would seem as much of a snuggery as ever a mouse could -build; but it is not. Instead of a dark, warm chamber within a hollow -stump, Whitefoot sometimes goes to the opposite extreme, and climbs a -leafless tree to an abandoned bird's nest, and fits this up for his -winter home. Down by Cubby Hollow I found a wood-thrush's nest in a -slender swamp-maple, about fifteen feet from the ground. The young -birds left it late in June, and when Whitefoot moved in I do not know. -But along in the winter I noticed that the nest looked suspiciously -round and full, as if it were roofed over. Perhaps the falling leaves -had lodged in it, though this was hardly likely. So I went up to the -sapling and tapped. My suspicions were correct. After some thumps, -a sleepy, frightened face appeared through the side of the nest, -and looked cautiously down at me. No one could mistake that pointed -nose, those big ears, and the round pop-eyes so nearly dropping out -with blinking. It was Whitefoot. I had disturbed his dreams, and he -had hardly got his wits together yet, for he had never been awakened -thus before. And what could wake him? The black-snakes are asleep, -and there is not a coon or cat living that could climb this spindling -maple. Free from these foes, Whitefoot has only the owls to fear, -and I doubt if even the little screech-owl could flip through these -interlaced branches and catch the nimble-footed tenant of the nest. - -[Illustration: "It was Whitefoot."] - -In spite of the exposure this must be a warm bed. The walls are thick -and well plastered with mud, and are packed inside with fine, shredded -bark which the mouse himself has pulled from the dead chestnut limbs, -or, more likely, has taken from a deserted crow's nest. The whole is -thatched with a roof of shredded bark, so neatly laid that it sheds -water perfectly. The entrance is on the side, just over the edge of -the original structure, but so shielded by the extending roof that the -rain and snow never beat in. The thrushes did their work well; the -nest is securely mortised into the forking branches; and Whitefoot -can sleep without a tremor through the wildest winter gale. Whenever -the snow falls lightly a high white tower rises over the nest; and -then the little haycock, lodged in the slender limbs so far above our -heads, is a very castle indeed. - -High over the nest of the white-footed mouse, in the stiffened top of -a tall red oak that stands on the brow of the hill, swings another -winter bed. It is the bulky oak-leaf hammock of the gray squirrel. - -A hammock for a winter bed? Is there anything snug and warm about a -hammock? Not much, true enough. From the outside the gray squirrel's -leaf bed looks like the coldest, deadliest place one could find in -which to pass the winter. The leaves are loose and rattle in the wind -like the clapboards of a tumble-down house. The limb threatens every -moment to toss the clumsy nest out upon the storm. But the moorings -hold, and if we could curl up with the sleeper in that swaying bed, we -should rock and dream, and never feel a shiver through the homespun -blankets of chestnut bark that wrap us round inside the flapping -leaves. - -Be it never so cozy, a nest like this is far from a burrow--the bed -of a fat, thick-headed dolt who sleeps away the winter. A glance into -the stark, frozen top of the oak sends over us a chill of fright and -admiration for the dweller up there. He cannot be an ease-lover; -neither can he know the meaning of fear. We should as soon think of -a sailor's being afraid of the shrieking in the rigging overhead, as -of this bold squirrel in the tree-tops dreading any danger that the -winter winds might bring. - -There are winters when the gray squirrel stays in the hollow of some -old tree. A secure and sensible harbor, this, in which to weather the -heavy storms, and I wonder that a nest is ever anchored outside in the -tree-tops. The woodsmen and other wiseacres say that the squirrels -never build the tree-top nests except in anticipation of a mild -winter. But weather wisdom, when the gray squirrel is the source, is -as little wise as that which comes from Washington or the almanac. I -have found the nests in the tree-tops in the coldest, fiercest winters. - -[Illustration: "From his leafless height he looks down into the -Hollow."] - -It is not in anticipation of fine weather, but a wild delight in the -free, wild winter, that leads the gray squirrel to swing his hammock -from the highest limb of the tallest oak that will hold it. He dares -and defies the winds, and claims their freedom for his own. From his -leafless height yonder he looks down into the Hollow upon the tops of -the swamp trees where his dizzy roads run along the angled branches, -and over the swamp to the dark pines, and over the pines, on, on -across the miles of white fields which sweep away and away till they -freeze with the frozen sky behind the snow-clouds that drift and pile. -In his aery he knows the snarl and bite of the blizzard; he feels the -swell of the heaving waves that drive thick with snow out of the cold -white north. Anchored far out in the tossing arms of the strong oak, -his leaf nest rocks in the storm like a yawl in a heaving sea. - -But he loves the tumult and the terror. A night never fell upon the -woods that awed him; cold never crept into the trees that could chill -his blood; and the hoarse, mad winds that swirl and hiss about his -pitching bed never shook a nerve in his round, beautiful body. How he -must sleep! And what a constitution he has! - - - - -A BIRD OF THE DARK - - -[Illustration] - -A BIRD OF THE DARK - - -The world is never more than half asleep. Night dawns and there is -almost as wide a waking as with the dawn of day. We live in the glare -till it leaves us blind to the forms that move through the dark; -we listen to the roar of the day till we can no longer hear the -stir that begins with the night. But here in the darkness is life -and movement,--wing-beats, footfalls, cries, and calls,--all the -wakefulness, struggle, and tragedy of the day. - -Whatever the dusk touches it quickens. Things of bare existence by day -have life at night. The very rocks that are dead and inanimate in the -light get breath and being in the dark. What was mere substance now -becomes shadow, and shadow spirit, till all the day's dead live and -move. The roads, fences, trees, and buildings become new creatures; -landmarks, distances, and places change; new odors are on the winds; -strange lights appear; soft footsteps pass and repass us; and hidden -voices whisper everywhere. The brightest day is not more awake; at -high noon we are not more alert. - -One of the commonest of these night sounds is the cry of the -whippoorwill. From the middle of April to the end of September it -rings along the edge of the clearing; but how seldom we have seen -the singer! To most of us it is only a disembodied voice. Night has -put her spell upon the whippoorwills and changed them from birds -into wandering shadows and voices. There is something haunting in -their call, a suggestion of fear, as though the birds were in flight, -pursued by a shape in the gloom. It is the voice of the lost--the -voice of the night trying to find its way back to the day. There is -snap enough in the call if you happen to be near the bird. Usually the -sound comes to us out of the darkness and distance--the loneliest, -ghostliest cry of all the night. - -It is little wonder that so many legends and omens follow the -whippoorwill. How could our imaginations, with a bent for -superstition, fail to work upon a creature so often heard, so rarely -seen, of habits so dark and uncanny? - -One cannot grow accustomed to the night. The eager, jostling, -open-faced day has always been familiar; but with the night, though -she comes as often as the day, no number of returns can make us -acquainted. Whatever is peculiarly her own shares her mystery. Who can -get used to the bats flitting and squeaking about him in the dusk? Or -who can keep his flesh from creeping when an owl bobs over him in the -silence against a full moon? Or who, in the depths of a pine barren, -can listen to a circle of whippoorwills around him, and not stay -his steps as one lost in the land of homeless, wailing spirits? The -continual shifting of the voices, the mocking echoes, and the hiding -darkness combine in an effect altogether gruesome and unearthly. - -One may hear the whippoorwill every summer of his life, but never see -the bird. It is shy and wary, and, with the help of the darkness, -manages to keep strangely out of sight. Though it is not unusual to -stumble upon one asleep by day, it is a rare experience to surprise -one feeding or singing at night. - -One evening I was standing by a pump in an open yard, listening to the -whippoorwills as they came out to the edge of the woods and called -along the fields. The swamp ran up so close on this side of the house -that faint puffs of magnolia and wild grape could be strained pure -from the mingling odors in the sweet night air. The whippoorwills -were so near that the introductory _chuck_ and many of the finer, -flute-like trills of their song, which are never heard at a distance, -were clear and distinct. Presently one call sounded out above the -others, and instantly rang again, just behind a row of currant-bushes -not ten feet away. - -I strained my eyes for a glimpse of the creature, when swift wings -fanned my face, and a dark, fluffy thing, as soft and noiseless -as a shadow, dropped at my feet, and exploded with a triple cry -of _Whip-poor-will!_ that startled me. It was a rapid, crackling, -vigorous call that split through the night as a streak of lightning -through a thunder-cloud. The farmers about here interpret the notes -to say, _Crack-the-whip!_ and certainly, near by, this fits better -than _Whip-poor-will!_ - -[Illustration: "It caught at the insects in the air."] - -The bird was flitting about the small platform upon which I stood. I -remained as stiff as the pump, for which, evidently, it had mistaken -me. It was not still a moment, but tossed back and forth on wings -that were absolutely silent, and caught at the insects in the air -and uttered its piercing cry. It leaped rather than flew, sometimes -calling on the wing, and always upon touching the ground. - -This is as good a view of the bird as I ever got at night. The -darkness was too thick to see what the food was it caught, or how -it caught it. I could not make out a pose or a motion more than the -general movements about the pump. The one other time that I have had a -good look at the bird, when not asleep, showed him at play. - -It was an early August morning, between two and three o'clock. The -only doctor in the village had been out all night at a little town -about five miles away. He was wanted at once, and I volunteered to get -him. - -Five miles is pure fun to a boy who has run barefoot every one of his -fifteen summers; so I rolled up my trousers, tightened my belt, and -bent away for Shiloh at an easy dog-trot that, even yet, I believe I -could keep up for half a day. - -There was not a glimmer in the east when I started. I had covered -three miles, and was entering a long stretch of sprout-land when the -dawn began. The road was dusty, and the dew-laid powder puffed beneath -the soft, swift pats of my feet. Things began to stand out with some -distinctness now as the pale light brightened. No wagons had been -along, and every mark of the night was plain. Here and there were -broad, ragged-edged bands across the road--the trails of the wandering -box-turtles. I saw the smooth, waving channel left by a snake that had -just gone across. Here and there were bunches of rabbit tracks, and -every little while appeared large spots in the road, where some bird -had been dusting itself. - -Suddenly I made a sharp turn, and almost ran over a whippoorwill -concealed in a very cloud of dust which she was flirting up with her -wings. This explained the spots back along the road. The bird flew up -and settled a few yards ahead of me, and took another hasty dip. This -she kept up for nearly a quarter of a mile. - -The road was alive with whippoorwills. It was their bathing-hour, and -playtime, too. The serious business of the night was done; they had -hunted through the first hours, and now it was time to be social. The -light was coming rapidly, and so was bedtime; but they called and -capered about me, playing away the narrowing night to the very edge of -day. - -On my return, an hour later, the sun was looking over the tops of the -"cut-offs," but he did not see a whippoorwill. They were all roosting -lengthwise upon the logs and stumps back among the bushes. - -[Illustration] - -These unnatural, unbirdlike habits of the whippoorwill are matched by -the appearance of the bird. The first time one sees a whippoorwill he -questions whether its shape and color are the result of its nocturnal -life or whether it took to the night to hide its unbeautiful self from -the gaze of the day. - -It has ridiculously short legs, a mere point of a bill, and a -bristled, head-dividing gap that would shame a frog. Looked at in the -daylight, its color, too, is a meaningless mixture, as unreal and -half done as the rest of the creature. But we should not be so hasty -in our judgment. There is design in all things in nature; utility is -the first law of creation: and the discovery of plan and purpose is -the highest appreciation of beauty. - -The whippoorwill's dress must be criticized from the view-point of its -usefulness to the bird; then it becomes one of the most exquisitely -artistic garments worn. Compare it with that of any other bird, and -your wonder at it grows. Another such blending of light and shadow -cannot be found. The night herself seems to have woven this robe out -of warp from the strands of early dawn and of woof spun from the -twilight. - -The whippoorwill cannot change the color of its dress with the passing -clouds, nor match it with the light green of unfolding leaves and -the deep bronze of old tree-trunks, as the chameleon can. But the -bird has no need of such control. It is always in harmony with its -surroundings. In the falling twilight it seems a shadow among the -shadows; in the breaking dawn it melts into the gray half-light, a -phantom; at midnight it is only an echo in the dark; and at noontime -you would pass the creature for a mossy knot, as it squats close to a -limb or rail, sitting lengthwise, unlike any bird of the light. - -We need not expect a bird of such irregular habits as the whippoorwill -to have the normal instincts of birds, even with regard to its -offspring. A bird given to roaming about at night, the companion of -toads and bats and spooks, is not one that can be trusted to bring up -young. You cannot count much on the domesticity of a bird that flits -around with the shadows and fills the night with doleful, spellbinding -cries. - -The nest of the whippoorwill is the bare ground, together with -whatever leaves, pebbles, or bits of wood happen to be under the -eggs when they are laid. I found a nest once by the side of a log -in the woods, and by rarest good fortune missed putting my foot -upon the eggs. Here there was no attempt at nest-building, not even -a depression in the earth. There were two of the eggs,--the usual -number,--long and creamy white, with mingled markings of lavender and -reddish brown. Here, upon the log, one of the birds dozed away the -day, while the mate on the nest brooded and slept till the gloaming. - -The effect of this erratic life in the forest glooms and under the -cover of night has been to make the whippoorwill careless of her home -and negligent of her young. She has become a creature of omen, weird -and wakeful, lingering behind the time of superstition to keep myths -moving in our scanty groves and mystery still stirring through the -dark rooms of the night. - -[Illustration: "Unlike any bird of the light."] - - - - -THE PINE-TREE SWIFT - - -[Illustration] - -THE PINE-TREE SWIFT - - -In any large museum you may see the fossil skeletons, or the casts of -the skeletons, of those mammoth saurians of the Mesozoic Age. But you -can go into the pine barrens any bright summer day and capture for -yourself a real live saurian. The gloom of the pines is the lingering -twilight of that far-off time, and the pine-tree lizard, or swift, is -the lineal descendant of those reptile monsters who ruled the seas and -the dry land before man was. - -Throughout southern New Jersey the pine-tree swifts abound. The -worm-fences, rail-piles, bridges, stone-heaps, and, above all, the -pine-trees are alive with them. They are the true children of the -pines, looking so like a very part of the trees that it seems they -must have been made by snipping off the pitch-pines' scaly twigs and -giving legs to them. They are the aborigines, the primitive people of -the barrens; and it is to the lean, sandy barrens you must go if you -would see the swifts at home. - -In these wide, silent wastes, where there are miles of scrub-pine -without a clearing, where the blue, hazy air is laden with the odor of -resin, where the soft glooms are mingled with softer, shyer lights, -the swifts seem what they actually are--creatures of another, earlier -world. When one darts over your foot and scurries up a tree to watch -you, it is easy to imagine other antediluvian shapes moving in the -deeper shadows beyond. How they rustle the leaves and scratch the -rough pine bark! They hurry from under your feet and peek around the -tree-trunks into your face, their nails and scales scraping, while -they themselves remain almost invisible on the deep browns of the -pines; and if you are inclined to be at all nervous, you will start -and shiver. - -The uncanny name "lizard" is partly accountable for our unpleasant -feelings toward this really intelligent and interesting little beast. -If he were more widely known as "swift," _Sceloporus_ would be -less detested. The _z_ in "lizard" adds a creepy, crawly, sinister -something to the name which even the wretched word "snake" does not -suggest. "Swift," the common name in some localities, is certainly -more pleasing, and, at the same time, quite accurately descriptive. - -[Illustration: "They peek around the tree-trunks."] - -There is nothing deadly nor vicious, nor yet unlovely, about the -swift, unless some may hate his reptile form and his scales. But he -is strangely dreaded. The mere mention of him is enough to stampede -a Sunday-school picnic. I know good people who kill every swift they -meet, under the queer religious delusion that they are lopping off a -limb of Satan. "All reptiles are cursed," one such zealot declared to -me, "and man is to bruise their heads." The good book of nature was -not much read, evidently, by this student of the other Good Book. - -The swift is absolutely harmless. He is without fang, sting, or evil -charm. He is not exactly orthodox, for he has a third eye in the -top of his head, the scientists tell us; but that eye is entirely -hidden. It cannot bind nor leer, like Medusa. Otherwise the swift is -a perfectly normal little creature, about six inches long from tip to -tip, quick of foot, scaly, friendly, wonderfully colored in undulating -browns and blues, and looking, on the whole, like a pretty little -Noah's-ark alligator. - -On the south side of the clump of pines beyond Cubby Hollow is a pile -of decaying rails where I have watched the swifts, and they me, for so -many seasons that I fancy they know me. Dewberry-vines and Virginia -creeper clamber over the pile, and at one end, flaming all through -July, burns a splendid bush of butterfly-weed. The orange-red blossoms -shine like a beacon against the dark of the pines, and lure a constant -stream of insect visitors, who make living for the swifts of this -particular place rich and easy while the attraction lasts. - -Any hot day I can find several swifts here, and they are so tame that -I can tickle them all off to sleep without the slightest trouble. -They will look up quickly as I approach, fearless but alert, with -head tilted and eyes snapping; but not one stirs. With a long spear -of Indian grass I reach out gently and stroke the nearest one. Shut -go his eyes; down drops his head; he sleeps--at least, he pretends -to. This is my peace greeting. Now I may sit down, and life upon the -rail-pile will go normally on. - -Upon the end of a rail, so close to a cluster of the butterfly-weed -blossoms that he can pick the honey-gatherers from it,--as you would -pick olives from a dish on the table,--lies a big male swift without a -tail. He lost that member in an encounter with me several weeks ago. A -new one has started, but it is a mere bud yet. I know his sex by the -brilliant blue stripe down each side, which is a favor not granted -the females. The sun is high and hot. "Fearfully, hot," I say under -my wide straw hat. "Delightfully warm," says the lizard, sprawling -over the rail, his legs hanging, eyes half shut, every possible scale -exposed to the blistering rays, and his bud of a tail twitching with -the small spasms of exquisite comfort that shoot to the very ends of -his being. - -The little Caliban! How he loves the sun! It cannot shine too hot nor -too long upon him. He stiffens and has aches when it is cold, so he is -a late riser, and appears not at all on dark, drizzly days. - -His nose is resting upon the rail like a drowsy scholar's upon the -desk; but he is not asleep: he sees every wasp and yellow-jacket that -lights upon the luring flowers. He has learned some things about the -wasp tribe; and if any of them want honey from his butterfly-weed, -they may have it. These come and go with the butterflies and -hard-backed bugs, no notice being taken. But I hear the booming of -a bluebottle-fly. _Sceloporus_ hears him, too, and gathers his legs -under him, alert. The fly has settled upon one of the flower-clusters. -He fumbles among the blossoms, and pretty soon blunders upon those -watched by the swift. Fatal blunder! There is a quick scratching on -the rail, a flash of brown across the orange flowers, and the next -thing I see is the swift, back in his place, throwing his head about -in the air, licking down the stupid bluebottle-fly. - -A spider crawls over the rail behind him. He turns and snaps it up. -A fly buzzes about his head, but he will not jump with all four -feet, and so loses it. A humming-bird is fanning the butterfly-weed, -and he looks on with interest not unmixed with fear. Now the bugs, -butterflies, hornets, and wasps make up the motley crowd of visitants -to his garden, and _Sceloporus_ stretches out in the warmth again. He -is hardly asleep when a bird's shadow passes across the rails. The -sharp scratch of scales and claws is heard at half a dozen places on -the pile at once, and every swift has ducked around his rail out of -sight. - -An enemy! The shadow sweeps on across the melon-field, and above in -the sky I see a turkey-buzzard wheeling. This is no enemy. Evidently -the swifts mistook the buzzard's shadow for that of the sharp-shinned -hawk. Had it been the hawk, my little bobtailed friend might have been -taking a dizzy ride through the air to some dead tree-top at that -moment, instead of peeking over his rail to see if the coast were -clear. - -[Illustration: "The sparrow-hawk searching the fences for them."] - -All the lesser hawks feed upon the swifts. I have often seen the -sparrow-hawk perched upon a tall stake searching the fences for them. -Cats eat them also. But they do not agree with puss. They make a cat -thin and morbid and unhappy. We can tell when the lizard-catching -disease is upon Tom by his loss of appetite, his lankness, and his -melancholy expression. - -All fear of the hawk is passed, and the lizards come out into the -light again. Presently one leaves the rails, runs over my foot, and -dashes by short stages into the field. He is after a nest of ants, or -is chasing a long-legged spider. It is worth while to follow them when -they take to the fields, for they may let you into a secret, as they -once did me. - -About a hundred feet into the melon-patch stands an old and very -terrible scarecrow. It is quite without terrors for the swifts, -however. Around this monster's feet the soil is bare and open to the -sun. One day I discovered a lizard making her way thither, and I -followed. She did not stop for ants or spiders, but whisked under the -vines and hastened on as if bound on some urgent business. And so she -was. - -When she reached the warm, open sand at the scarecrow's feet, she dug -out a little hollow, and, to my utter amazement, deposited therein -seven tough, yellowish, pea-like eggs, covered them with sand, and -raced back to the rail-pile. That was all. Her maternal duties were -done, her cares over. She had been a faithful mother to the last -degree,--even to the covering up of her eggs,--and now she left them -to the kindly skies. About the middle of July they hatched, and, in -finding their way to the rail-pile, they stopped at the first mound on -the road, and began life in earnest upon a fiery dinner of red ants. - -It looks as if nature were partial in the care she takes of her -children. How long she bothers and fusses over us, for instance, and -how, without one touch of parental care or interest, she tosses the -lizard out, even before he is hatched, to shift for himself. If, -however, we could eat red ants the day we are born and thrive on them, -I suppose that our mothers, too, without much concern, might let us -run. - -The day-old babies join their elders upon the rails, and are received -with great good humor--with pleasure, indeed; for the old ones seem -to enjoy the play of the youngsters, and allow them to climb over -their backs and claw and scratch them without remonstrance. The swifts -are gentle, peaceable, and sweet-tempered. They rarely fight among -themselves. The only time that I ever found one out of humor was when -she was anxiously hunting for a place in which to leave her eggs. The -trouble of it all made her cross, and as I picked her up she tried to -bite me. And I ought to have been bitten. - -Ordinarily, however, the swifts are remarkably docile and friendly. -If treated kindly, they will allow you to stroke them and handle them -freely within a few minutes after capture. I have sometimes had them -cling to my coat of their own will as I tramped about the woods. They -hiss and open their mouths when first taken; but their teeth could not -prick one's skin if they did strike. - -They are clean, pretty, interesting pets to have about the house and -yard. They are easily tamed, and, in spite of their agility, they are -no trouble at all to capture. I have often caught them with my unaided -hand; but an almost sure way is to take a long culm of green grass, -strip off the plume, and make a snood of the wire-like end. - -A swift is sunning himself upon a rail. He rises upon his front legs, -as you approach, to watch you. Carefully now! Don't try to get too -near. You can just reach him. Now your snood is slipping over his -nose; it tickles him; he enjoys it, and shuts his eyes. The grass -loop is about his neck; he discovers it, and--pull! for he leaps. If -the snood does not break you have him dangling in the air. Bring him -to your coat now, and touch him lightly till his fear is dispelled, -then loose him, and he will stay with you for hours. - -When upon a tree you may seize him with your bare hand by coming up -from behind. But never try to catch him by the tail; for lizards' -tails were not made for that purpose, though, from their length and -convenience to grasp, and from the careless way their owners have of -leaving them sticking out, it seems as if nature intended them merely -for handles. - -In my haste to catch the bobtailed lizard of the rail-pile, I -carelessly clapped my hand upon his long, scaly tail, when, by a quick -turn, he mysteriously unjointed himself from it, leaving the appendage -with me, while he scampered off along the rails. He is now growing -another tail for some future emergency. - -Between eating, sleeping, and dodging shadows, the lizards spend their -day, and about the middle of the afternoon disappear. Where do they -spend their night? They go somewhere from the dew and cold; but where? - -There is a space about two inches deep between the window-sash and the -net-frames in my room. Some time ago I put a number of swifts upon -the netting, covered the window-sill with sand, and thus improvised -an ideal lizard-cage. All I had to do to feed them was to raise the -window, drive the flies from the room on to the netting, and close the -sash. The lizards then caught them at their leisure. - -Two days after they were transferred here, and had begun to feel -at home and fearless of me, I noticed, as night came on, that they -descended from the netting and disappeared in the sand. I put my -finger in and took one out, and found that the sand was much warmer -than the dewy night air. - -This was their bed, and this explained the sleeping habits of the -free, wild ones. The sand remains warm long after the sun sets and -makes them a comfortable bed. Into the sand they go also to escape the -winter. They must get down a foot or more to be rid of the frost; and -being poor diggers, they hunt up the hole of some other creature, or -work their way among the decayed roots of some old stump until below -the danger-line. By the middle of September they have made their beds, -and when they wake up, the melons will be started and the May sunshine -warm upon the rails. - -[Illustration] - - - - -IN THE OCTOBER MOON - - -[Illustration] - -IN THE OCTOBER MOON - - -An October night, calm, crisp, and moonlit! There is a delicate -aroma from the falling leaves in the air, as sweet as the scent of -fresh-filled haymows. The woods are silent, shadowy, and sleepful, -lighted dimly by the moon, as a vague, happy dream lights the dark -valley of our sleep. Dreamful is this night world, but yet not -dreaming. When, in the highest noon, did every leaf, every breeze, -seem so much a self, so full of ready life? The very twigs that lie -brittle and dead beneath our feet seem wakeful now and on the alert. -In this silence we feel myriad movings everywhere; and we know that -this sleep is but the sleep of the bivouac fires, that an army is -breaking camp to move under cover of the night. Every wild thing that -knows the dark will be stirring to-night. And what softest foot can -fall without waking the woods? - - Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; - They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. - -Not a mouse can scurry, not a chestnut drop, not a wind whisper among -these new-fallen leaves without discovery; even a weasel cannot dart -across the moon-washed path and not leave a streak of brown upon the -silver, plain enough to follow. - -A morning in May is best of all the year to be afield with the birds; -but to watch for the wild four-footed things, a moonlight night in -October is the choice of the seasons. May-time is bird-time. That -is their spring of mate-winning and nest-building, and it bubbles -over with life and song. The birds are ardent lovers; they sometimes -fight in their wooing: but fighting or singing, they are frank, -happy creatures, and always willing to see you. The mammals are -just as ardent lovers as the birds, and infinitely more serious. -But they are not poets; they are not in the show business; and they -want no outsider to come and listen to their pretty story of woe. -Their spring, their courting-time, is not a time of song and play. -The love-affairs of a timid, soulful-eyed rabbit are so charged and -intense as not always to be free from tragedy. Don't expect any -attention in the spring, even from that bunch of consuming curiosity, -the red squirrel; he has something in hand, for once, more to his mind -than quizzing you. Life with the animals then, and through the summer, -has too much of love and fight and fury, is too terribly earnest, to -admit of any frolic. - -But autumn brings release from most of these struggles. There is -surcease of love; there is abundance of food; and now the only -passions of the furry breasts are such gentle desires as abide with -the curious and the lovers of peace and plenty. The animals are now -engrossed with the task of growing fat and furry. Troubled with no -higher ambitions, curiosity, sociability, and a thirst for adventure -begin to work within them these long autumn nights, and not one of -them, however wild and fearful, can resist his bent to prowl in the -light of the October moon. - -To know much of the wild animals at home one must live near their -haunts, with eyes and ears open, forever on the watch. For you must -wait their pleasure. You cannot entreat them for the sake of science, -nor force them in the name of the law. You cannot set up your easel -in the meadow, and hire a mink or muskrat to pose for you any time -you wish; neither can you call, when you like, at the hollow gum in -the swamp and interview a coon. The animals flatly refuse to sit for -their pictures, and to see reporters and assessors. But carry your -sketchbook and pad with you, and, after a while, in the most unlikely -times and places, the wariest will give you sittings for a finished -picture, and the most reticent will tell you nearly all that he knows. - -At no time of the year are the animals so loquacious, so easy of -approach, as along in the October nights. There is little to be seen -of them by day. They are cautious folk. By nature most of them are -nocturnal; and when this habit is not inherited, fear has led to its -acquisition. But protected by the dark, the shy and suspicious creep -out of their hiding-places; they travel along the foot-paths, they -play in the wagon-roads, they feed in our gardens, and I have known -them to help themselves from our chicken-coops. If one has never -haunted the fields and woods at night he little knows their multitude -of wild life. Many a hollow stump and uninteresting hole in the -ground--tombs by day--give up their dead at night, and something more -than ghostly shades come forth. - -If one's pulse quickens at the sight and sound of wild things -stirring, and he has never seen, in the deepening dusk, a long, -sniffling snout poked slowly out of a hollow chestnut, the glint of -black, beady eyes, the twitch of papery ears, then a heavy-bodied -possum issue from the hole, clasping the edge with its tail, to gaze -calmly about before lumbering off among the shadows--then he still has -something to go into the woods for. - -Our forests by daylight are rapidly being thinned into picnic groves; -the bears and panthers have disappeared, and by day there is nothing -to fear, nothing to give our imaginations exercise. But the night -remains, and if we hunger for adventure, why, besides the night, here -is the skunk; and the two offer a pretty sure chance for excitement. -Never to have stood face to face in a narrow path at night with a -full-grown, leisurely skunk is to have missed excitement and suspense -second only to the staring out of countenance of a green-eyed wildcat. -It is surely worth while, in these days of parks and chipmunks, when -all stir and adventure has fled the woods, to sally out at night for -the mere sake of meeting a skunk, for the shock of standing before a -beast that will not give you the path. As you back away from him you -feel as if you were really escaping. If there is any genuine adventure -left for us in this age of suburbs, we must be helped to it by the -dark. - -Who ever had a good look at a muskrat in the glare of day? I was -drifting noiselessly down the river, recently, when one started to -cross just ahead of my boat. He got near midstream, recognized me, -and went under like a flash. Even a glimpse like this cannot be had -every summer; but in the autumn nights you cannot hide about their -houses and fail to see them. In October they are building their -winter lodges, and the clumsiest watcher may spy them glistening in -the moonlight as they climb with loads of sedge and mud to the roofs -of their sugar-loaf houses. They are readily seen, too, making short -excursions into the meadows; and occasionally the desire to rove and -see the world will take such hold upon one as to drive him a mile from -water, and he will slink along in the shadow of the fences and explore -your dooryard and premises. Frequently, in the late winter, I have -followed their tracks on these night journeys through the snow between -ponds more than a mile apart. - -[Illustration: "In October they are building their winter lodges."] - -But there is larger game abroad than muskrats and possums. These -October nights the quail are in covey, the mice are alive in the dry -grass, and the foxes are abroad. Lying along the favorite run of -Reynard, you _may_ see him. There are many sections of the country -where the rocks and mountains and wide areas of sterile pine-land -still afford the foxes safe homes; but in most localities Reynard is -rapidly becoming a name, a creature of fables and folk-lore only. The -rare sight of his clean, sharp track in the dust, or in the mud along -the margin of the pond, adds flavor to a whole day's tramping; and the -glimpse of one in the moonlight, trotting along a cow-path or lying -low for Br'er Rabbit, is worth many nights of watching. - -I wish the game-laws could be amended to cover every wild animal left -to us. In spite of laws they are destined to disappear; but if the -fox, weasel, mink, and skunk, the hawks and owls, were protected as -the quail and deer are, they might be preserved a long time to our -meadows and woods. How irreparable the loss to our landscape is the -extinction of the great golden eagle! How much less of spirit, daring, -courage, and life come to us since we no longer mark the majestic -creature soaring among the clouds, the monarch of the skies! A dreary -world it will be out of doors when we can hear no more the scream of -the hawks, can no longer find the tracks of the coon, nor follow a fox -to den. We can well afford to part with a turnip, a chicken, and even -with a suit of clothes, now and then, for the sake of this wild flavor -to our fenced pastures and close-cut meadows. - -I ought to have named the crow in the list deserving protection. He -steals. So did Falstaff. But I should miss Falstaff had Shakspere -left him out; yet no more than I should miss the crow were he driven -from the pines. They are both very human. Jim Crow is the humanest -bird in feathers. The skunk I did include in the list. It was not by -mistake. The skunk has a good and safe side to him, when we know how -to approach him. The skunk wants a champion. Some one ought to spend -an entire October moon with him and give us the better side of his -character. If some one would take the trouble to get well acquainted -with him at home, it might transpire that we have grievously abused -and avoided him. - -[Illustration: "The glimpse of Reynard in the moonlight."] - -There is promise of a future for the birds in their friendship for us -and in our interest and sentiment for them. Everybody is interested -in birds; everybody loves them. There are bird-books and bird-books -and bird-books--new volumes in every publisher's spring announcements. -Every one with wood ways knows the songs and nests of the more -common species. But this is not so with the four-footed animals. -They are fewer, shyer, more difficult of study. Only a few of us are -enthusiastic enough to back into a hole in a sand-bank and watch all -night for the "beasts" with dear old Tam Edwards. - -But such nights of watching, when every fallen leaf is a sentinel and -every moonbeam a spy, will let us into some secrets about the ponds -and fields that the sun, old and all-seeing as he is, will never know. -Our eyes were made for daylight; but I think if the anatomists tried -they might find the rudiments of a third, a night eye, behind the -other two. From my boyhood I certainly have seen more things at night -than the brightest day ever knew of. If our eyes were intended for -day use, our other senses seem to work best by night. Do we not take -the deepest impressions when the plates of these sharpened senses are -exposed in the dark? Even in moonlight our eyes are blundering things; -but our hearing, smell, and touch are so quickened by the alertness of -night that, with a little training, the imagination quite takes the -place of sight--a new sense, swift and vivid, that adds an excitement -and freshness to the pleasure of out-of-door study, impossible to get -through our two straightforward, honest day eyes. - -Albeit, let us stay at home and sleep when there is no moon; and even -when she climbs up big and round and bright, there is no surety of a -fruitful excursion before the frosts fall. In the summer the animals -are worn with home cares and doubly wary for their young; the grass is -high, the trees dark, and the yielding green is silent under even so -clumsy a crawler as the box-turtle. But by October the hum of insects -is stilled, the meadows are mown, the trees and bushes are getting -bare, the moon pours in unhindered, and the crisp leaves crackle and -rustle under the softest-padded foot. - -[Illustration] - - - - -FEATHERED NEIGHBORS - - -[Illustration] - -FEATHERED NEIGHBORS - - -I - -The electric cars run past my door, with a switch almost in front of -the house. I can hear a car rumbling in the woods on the west, and -another pounding through the valley on the east, till, shrieking, -groaning, crunching, crashing, they dash into view, pause a moment -on the switch, and thunder on to east and west till out of hearing. -Then, for thirty minutes, a silence settles as deep as it lay here -a century ago. Dogs bark; an anvil rings; wagons rattle by; and -children shout about the cross-roads. But these sounds have become the -natural voices of the neighborhood--mother-tongues like the chat of -the brook, the talk of the leaves, and the caw of the crows. And these -voices, instead of disturbing, seem rather to lull the stillness. - -But the noise of the cars has hardly died away, and the quiet -come, when a long, wild cry breaks in upon it. _Yarup! yarup! -yarup-up-up-up-up!_ in quick succession sounds the call, followed -instantly by a rapid, rolling beat that rings through the morning hush -like a reveille with bugle and drum. - -It is the cry of the "flicker," the "high-hole." He is propped against -a pole along the street railroad, nearly a quarter of a mile away. -He has a hole in this pole, almost under the iron arm that holds the -polished, pulsing wire for the trolley. It is a new house, which the -bird has been working at for more than a week, and it must be finished -now, for this lusty call is an invitation to the warming. I shall -go, and, between the passing of the cars, witness the bowing, the -squeaking, the palaver. A high-hole warming is the most utterly polite -function in birddom. - -Some of my friends were talking of birds, not long ago, when one of -them turned to me and said hopelessly: - -"'Tis no use. We can't save them even if we do stop wearing them upon -our hats. Civilization is bound to sweep them away. We shall be in a -birdless world pretty soon, in spite of laws and Audubon societies." - -I made no reply, but, for an answer, led the way to the street -and down the track to this pole which High-hole had appropriated. -I pointed out his hole, and asked them to watch. Then I knocked. -Instantly a red head appeared at the opening. High-hole was mad enough -to eat us; but he changed his mind, and, with a bored, testy flip, -dived into the woods. He had served my purpose, however, for his red -head sticking out of a hole in a street-railway pole was as a rising -sun in the east of my friends' ornithological world. New light broke -over this question of birds and men. The cars drive High-hole away? -Not so long as cars run by overhead wires on wooden poles. - -High-hole is a civilized bird. Perhaps "domesticated" would better -describe him; though domesticated implies the purposeful effort of -man to change character and habits, while the changes which have come -over High-hole--and over most of the wild birds--are the result of -High-hole's own free choosing. - -If we should let the birds have their way they would voluntarily -fall into civilized, if not into domesticated, habits. They have no -deep-seated hostility toward us; they have not been the aggressors -in the long, bitter war of extermination; they have ever sued for -peace. Instead of feeling an instinctive enmity, the birds are drawn -toward us by the strongest of interests. If nature anywhere shows -us her friendship, and her determination, against all odds, to make -that friendship strong, she shows it through the birds. The way they -forgive and forget, their endless efforts at reconciliation, and -their sense of obligation, ought to shame us. They sing over every -acre that we reclaim, as if we had saved it for them only; and in -return they probe the lawns most diligently for worms, they girdle the -apple-trees for grubs, and gallop over the whole wide sky for gnats -and flies--squaring their account, if may be, for cherries, orchards, -and chimneys. - -[Illustration: "They probe the lawns most diligently for worms."] - -The very crows, in spite of certain well-founded fears, look upon a -new farm--not upon the farmer, perhaps--as a godsend. In the cold and -poverty of winter, not only the crows, but the jays, quails, buntings, -and sparrows, help themselves, as by right, from our shocks and cribs. -Summer and winter the birds find food so much more plentiful about -the farm and village, find living in all respects so much easier and -happier here than in remote, wild regions, that, as a whole, they -have become a suburban people. - -But life is more than meat for the birds. There is a subtle yet real -attraction for them in human society. They like its stir and change, -its attention and admiration. The shyest and most modest of the -birds pines for appreciation. The cardinal grosbeak, retiring as he -is, cannot believe that he was born to blush unseen--to the tip of -his beautiful crest. And the hermit-thrush, meditative, spiritual, -and free as the heart of the swamp from worldliness--even he loves -a listener, and would not waste his sweetness any longer on desert -forest air. I do not know a single bird who does not prefer a wood -with a wagon-road through it. - -[Illustration: "Even he loves a listener."] - -My friends had smiled at such assertions before their introduction to -the bird in the pole. They knew just enough of woodpeckers to expect -High-hole to build in the woods, and, when driven from there, to -disappear, to extinguish himself, rather than stoop to an existence -within walls of hardly the dignity and privacy of a hitching-post. - -He is a proud bird and a wild bird, but a practical, sensible bird -withal. Strong of wing and mighty of voice, he was intended for a -vigorous, untamed life, and even yet there is the naked savage in his -bound and his whoop. But electric cars have come, with smooth-barked -poles, and these are better than rotten trees, despite the jangle and -hum of wires and the racket of grinding wheels. Like the rest of us, -he has not put off his savagery: he has simply put on civilization. -Street cars are a convenience and a diversion. He has wings and -wildest freedom any moment, and so, even though heavy timber skirts -the track and shadows his pole, and though across the road opposite -stands a house where there are children, dogs, and cats, nevertheless, -High-hole follows his fancy, and instead of building back in the -seclusion and safety of the woods, comes out to the street, the -railroad, the children, and the cats, and digs him a modern house in -this sounding cedar pole. - -Perhaps it is imagination, but I think that I can actually see -High-hole changing his wood ways for the ways of the village. He grows -tamer and more trustful every summer. - -[Illustration: "She flew across the pasture."] - -A pair have their nest in a telegraph-pole near the school-house, -where they are constantly mauled by the boys. I was passing one day -when two youngsters rushed to the pole and dragged out the poor -harassed hen for my edification. She was seized by one wing, and came -out flapping, her feathers pulled and splintered. She had already -lost all but two quills from her tail through previous exhibitions. I -opened my hands, and she flew across the pasture to the top of a tree, -and waited patiently till we went away. She then returned, knowing, -apparently, that we were boys and a necessary evil of village life. - -But this pole-life marks only half the distance that these birds have -come from the woods. - -One warm Sunday of a recent March, in the middle of my morning sermon, -a ghostly rapping was heard through the meeting-house. I paused. _Tap, -tap, tap!_ hollow and ominous it echoed. Every soul was awake in an -instant. Was it a summons from--? But two of the small boys grinned; -some one whispered "flicker"; and I gathered my ornithological wits -together in time to save the pause and proceed with the service. - -After the people went home I found three flicker-holes in the -latticework over the north windows. One of last year's tenants had got -back that morning from the South, and had gone to work cleaning up -and putting things to rights in his house, regardless of Sabbath and -sermon. - -[Illustration: "Putting things to rights in his house."] - -This approach of the flicker to domestic life and human fellowship is -an almost universal movement among the birds. And no tendency anywhere -in wild life is more striking. The four-footed animals are rapidly -disappearing before the banging car and spreading town, yet the birds -welcome these encroachments and thrive on them. One never gets used to -the contrast in the bird life of uninhabited places with that about -human dwellings. Thoreau tells his wonder and disappointment at the -dearth of birds in the Maine woods; Burroughs reads about it, and goes -off to the mountains, but has himself such an aggravated shock of the -same surprise that he also writes about it. The few hawks and rarer -wood species found in these wild places are shy and elusive. More and -more, in spite of all they know of us, the birds choose our proximity -over the wilderness. Indeed, the longer we live together, the less -they fear and suspect us. - - -II - -Using my home for a center, you may describe a circle of a -quarter-mile radius and all the way round find that radius -intersecting either a house, a dooryard, or an orchard. Yet within -this small and settled area I found one summer thirty-six species of -birds nesting. Can any cabin in the Adirondacks open its window to -more voices--any square mile of solid, unhacked forest on the globe -show richer, gayer variety of bird life? - -The nightingale, the dodo, and the ivorybill were not among these -thirty-six. What then? If one can live on an electric-car line, -inside the borders of a fine city, have his church across the road, -his blacksmith on the corner, his neighbors within easy call, -and, with all this, have any thirty-six species of birds nesting -within ear-shot, ought he to ache for the Archæopteryx, or rail at -civilization as a destroyer? - -There is nothing remarkable about this bit of country. I could plant -myself at the center of such a circle anywhere for miles around and -find just as many birds. Perhaps the land is more rocky and hilly, the -woods thicker, the gardens smaller here than is common elsewhere in -eastern Massachusetts; otherwise, aside from a gem of a pond, this is -a very ordinary New England "corner." - -[Illustration: "A very ordinary New England 'corner.'"] - -On the west side of my yard lies a cultivated field, beyond which -stands an ancient apple orchard; on the east the yard is hedged by a -tract of sprout-land which is watched over by a few large pines; at -the north, behind the house and garden, runs a wall of chestnut and -oak, which ten years ago would have been cut but for some fortunate -legal complication. Such is the character of the whole neighborhood. -Patches of wood and swamp, pastures, orchards, and gardens, cut -in every direction by roads and paths, and crossed by one tiny -stream--this is the circle of the thirty-six. - -Not one of these nests is beyond a stone's throw from a house. Seven -of them, indeed, are in houses or barns, or in boxes placed about the -dooryards; sixteen of them are in orchard trees; and the others are -distributed along the roads, over the fields, and in the woods. - -Among the nearest of these feathered neighbors is a pair of bluebirds -with a nest in one of the bird-boxes in the yard. The bluebirds -are still untamed, building, as I have often found, in the wildest -spots of the woods; but seen about the house, there is something so -reserved, so gentle and refined in their voice and manner as to shed -an atmosphere of good breeding about the whole yard. What a contrast -they are to the English sparrows! What a rebuke to city manners! - -They are the first to return in the spring; the spring, rather, comes -back with them. They are its wings. It could not come on any others. -If it tried, say, the tanager's, would we believe and accept it? The -bluebird is the only possible interpreter of those first dark signs of -March; through him we have faith in the glint of the pussy-willows, -in the half-thawed peep of the hylas, and in the northward flying of -the geese. Except for his return, March would be the one month of all -the twelve never looked at from the woods and waysides. He comes, else -we should not know that the waters were falling, that a leaf could be -plucked in all the bare, muddy world. - -[Illustration: "They are the first to return in the spring."] - -Our feelings for the bluebird are much mixed. His feathers are not the -attraction. He is bright, but on the whole rather plainly dressed. Nor -is it altogether his voice that draws us; the snowflakes could hardly -melt into tones more mellow, nor flecks of the sky's April blue run -into notes more limpid, yet the bluebird is no singer. The spell is in -the spirit of the bird. He is the soul of this somber season, voicing -its sadness and hope. What other bird can take his place and fill his -mission in the heavy, hopeful days of March? We are in no mood for -gaiety and show. Not until the morning stars quarrel together will the -cat-bird or scarlet tanager herald the spring. The irreverent song of -a cat-bird in the gray gloom of March would turn the spring back and -draw the winter out of his uncovered grave. The bluebird comes and -broods over this death and birth, until the old winter sleeps his long -sleep, and the young spring wakes to her beautiful life. - -_Within_ my house is another very human little bird--the -chimney-swallow. Sharing our very firesides as he does, he surely -ought to have a warm place in our hearts; but where have I ever read -one word expressing the affection for him that is universally shown -the bluebird? - -I am thinking of our American swallow. We all know how Gilbert White -loved his chimney-swallows--how he loved every creature that flew or -crawled about the rectory. Was it an ancient tortoise in the garden? -the sheep upon the downs? a brood of birds in the chimney? No -matter. Let the creatures manifest never so slight a friendliness for -him, let them claim never so little of his protection, and the good -rector's heart went out toward them as it might toward children of his -own. - -But the swallows were White's fondest care. He and his hirundines were -inseparable. He thought of them, especially those of the chimney, as -members of his household. One can detect almost a father's interest -and joy in his notes upon these little birds. Listen to the parent in -this bit about the young in Letter XVIII. They are just out of the -chimney. - -[Illustration: "Where the dams are hawking for flies."] - -"They play about near the place where the dams are hawking for flies; -and when a mouthful is collected, at a certain signal given, the dam -and the nestling advance, rising toward each other, and meeting at an -angle; the young one all the while uttering such a little quick note -of gratitude and complacency that a person must have paid very little -regard to the wonders of nature that has not often remarked this feat." - -[Illustration] - -Has anything been written about our swift showing as faithful and -sympathetic observation as that? No. He comes and goes without any -one, like Gilbert White, being cheered by his twitter or interested in -his doings. Perhaps it is because we have so many brighter, sweeter -birds about us here; or perhaps our chimneys are higher than those of -Selborne Rectory; or maybe we have no Gilbert White over here. - -Of course we have no Gilbert White. We have not had time to produce -one. The union of man and nature which yields the naturalist of -Selborne is a process of time. Our soil and our sympathy are centuries -savager than England's. We still look at our lands with the spirit of -the ax; we are yet largely concerned with the contents of the gizzards -of our birds. Shall the crows and cherry-birds be exterminated? the -sparrows transported? the owls and hawks put behind bars? Not until -the collectors at Washington pronounce upon these first questions -can we hope for a naturalist who will find White's wonders in the -chimney-swallow. - -These little swifts are not as attractive as song-sparrows. They are -sooty--worse than sooty sometimes; their clothes are too tight for -them; and they are less musical than a small boy with "clappers." -Nevertheless I could ill spare them from my family. They were the -first birds I knew, my earliest home being so generous in its chimneys -as to afford lodgings to several pairs of them. This summer they again -share my fireside, squeaking, scratching, and thundering in the flue -as they used to when, real goblins, they came scrambling down to peek -and spy at me. I should miss them from the chimney as I should the -song-sparrows from the meadow. They are above the grate, to be sure, -while I am in front of it; but we live in the same house, and there is -only a wall between us. - -If the chimney would be a dark, dead hole without the swifts, how -empty the summer sky would be were they not skimming, darting, -wiggling across every bright hour of it! They are tireless fliers, -feeding, bathing, love-making, and even gathering the twigs for their -nests on the wing, never alighting, in fact, after leaving the chimney -until they return to it. They rest while flying. Every now and then -you will see them throw their wings up over their heads till the tips -almost touch, and, in twos or threes, scale along to the time of -their jolly, tuneless rattle. - -From May to September, is there a happier sight than a flock of -chimney-swallows, just before or just after a shower, whizzing about -the tops of the corn or coursing over the river, like so many streaks -of black lightning, ridding the atmosphere of its overcharge of -gnats! They cut across the rainbow and shoot into the rose- and -pearl-washed sky, and drop--into the depths of a soot-clogged chimney! - -[Illustration: "They cut across the rainbow."] - -These swallows used to build in caves and in clean, hollow trees; now -they nest only in chimneys. So far have they advanced in civilization -since the landing of the Pilgrims! - -Upon the beams in the top of the barn the brown-breasted, fork-tailed -barn-swallows have made their mud nests for years. These birds are -wholly domesticated. We cannot think of them as wild. And what a place -in our affections they have won! If it is the bluebirds that bring -the spring, the barn-swallows fetch the summer. They take us back -to the farm. We smell the hay, we see the cracks and knot-holes of -light cutting through the fragrant gloom of the mows, we hear the -munching horses and the summer rain upon the shingles, every time a -barn-swallow slips past us. - -For grace of form and poetry of motion there is no rival for the -barn-swallow. When on wing, where else, between the point of a beak -and the tips of a tail, are there so many marvelous curves, such -beautiful balance of parts? On the wing, I say. Upon his feet he is as -awkward as the latest Herreshoff yacht upon the stays. But he is the -yacht of the air. Every line of him is drawn for racing. The narrow, -wide-reaching wings and the long, forked tail are the perfection of -lightness, swiftness, and power. A master designed him--saved every -possible feather's weight, bent from stem to stern, and rigged him to -outsail the very winds. - -[Illustration: "The barn-swallows fetch the summer."] - -From the barn to the orchard is no great journey; but it is the -distance between two bird-lands. One must cross the Mississippi basin, -the Rocky Mountains, or the Pacific Ocean to find a greater change in -bird life than he finds in leaping the bars between the yard and the -orchard. - -A bent, rheumatic, hoary old orchard is nature's smile in the agony -of her civilization. Men may level the forests, clear the land and -fence it; but as long as they plant orchards, bird life, at least, -will survive and prosper. - -[Illustration: "From the barn to the orchard."] - -Except for the warblers, one acre of apple-trees is richer in -the variety of its birds than ten acres of woods. In the three -unkempt, decrepit orchards hereabout, I found the robin, chippy, -orchard-oriole, cherry-bird, king-bird, crow-blackbird, bluebird, -chebec, tree-swallow, flicker, downy woodpecker, screech-owl, yellow -warbler, redstart, and great-crested flycatcher--all nesting as -rightful heirs and proprietors. This is no small share of the glory -of the whole bird world. - -I ought not to name redstart as a regular occupant of the orchard. -He belongs to the woods, and must be reckoned a visitor to the -apple-trees, only an occasional builder, at best. The orchard is -too open for him. He is an actor, and needs a leafy setting for his -stage. In the woods, against a dense background of green, he can play -butterfly with charming effect, can spread himself and flit about like -an autumn leaf or some wandering bit of paradise life, with wings of -the grove's richest orange light and its deepest shadow. - -When, however, he has a fancy for the orchard, this dainty little -warbler shows us what the wood-birds can do in the way of friendship -and sociability. - -Across the road, in an apple-tree whose branches overhang a kitchen -roof, built a pair of redstarts. No one discovered the birds till the -young came; then both parents were seen about the yard the whole day -long. They were as much at home as the chickens, even more familiar. -Having a leisure moment one day, when a bicycle was being cleaned -beneath the tree, the inquisitive pair dropped down, the female -actually lighting upon the handle-bar to see how the dusting was done. -On another occasion she attempted to settle upon the baby swinging -under the tree in a hammock; and again, when I caught one of her own -babies in my hands, she came, bringing a worm, and, without the -slightest fear of me, tried to feed it. Yet she was somewhat daunted -by the trap in which her infant was struggling; she would fan my hands -with her wings, then withdraw, not able to muster quite enough courage -to settle upon them. - -[Illustration: "Across the road, in an apple-tree, built a pair of -redstarts."] - -Neither of these birds ever showed alarm at the people of the house. -In fact, I never saw a redstart who seemed to know that we humans -ought to be dreaded. These birds are now as innocent of suspicion -as when they came up to Adam to be named. On two occasions, during -severe summer storms, they have fluttered at my windows for shelter, -and dried their feathers, as any way-worn traveler might, in safety -beneath my roof. - -From the window one morning I saw Chebec, the least flycatcher, light -upon the clothes-line. She teetered a moment, balancing her big -head by her loosely jointed tail, then leaped lightly into the air, -turned,--as only a flycatcher can,--and, diving close to the ground, -gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her beak, and darted -off. I followed instantly, and soon found her nest in one of the -orchard trees. It was not quite finished; and while the bird was gone -for more of the dandelion down, I climbed up and seated myself within -three feet of the nest. - -Back came Mrs. Chebec with a swoop, but, on seeing me, halted short of -the nest. I was motionless. Hopping cautiously toward the nest, she -took an anxious look inside; finding nothing disturbed, she concluded -that there was no evil in me, and so went on with her interesting -work. It was a pretty sight. In a quiet, capable, womanly way she laid -the lining in, making the nest, in her infinite mother-love, fit for -eggs with shells of foam. - -The chebec is a finished architect. Better builders are few indeed. -The humming-bird is slower, more painstaking, and excels Chebec in -outside finish. But Chebec's nest is so deep, so soft, so round and -hollow! There is the loveliness of pure curve in its walls. And small -wonder! She bends them about the beautiful mold of her own breast. -Whenever she entered with the dandelion cotton, she went round and -round these walls, before leaving, pressing them fondly with her chin -close against her breast. She could not make them sufficiently safe -nor half lovely enough for the white, fragile treasures to be cradled -there. - -[Illustration: "Gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her -beak."] - -Artists though they be, the chebecs, nevertheless, are very tiresome -birds. They think that they can sing--a sad, sorry, maddening mistake. -Mr. Chapman says the day that song was distributed among the birds the -chebecs sat on a back seat. Would they had been out catching flies! In -the chatter of the English sparrow, no matter how much I may resent -his impudence and swagger, there is something so bright and lively -that I never find him really tiresome. But the chebecs come back very -early in spring, and sit around for days and days, catching flies, and -jerking their heads and calling, _Chebec! chebec! chebec!_ till you -wish their heads would snap off. - -In the tree next to the chebec's was a brood of robins. The crude nest -was wedged carelessly into the lowest fork of the tree, so that the -cats and roving boys could help themselves without trouble. The mother -sputtered and worried and scolded without let-up, trying to make good -her foolishness in fixing upon such a site by abundance of anxiety and -noise. - -The fussiest, least sensible mother among the birds is the robin. Any -place for her nest but a safe one! The number of young robins annually -sacrificed to pure parental carelessness is appalling. The female -chooses the site for the home, and her ability for blundering upon -unattractive and exposed locations amounts to genius. She insists upon -building on the sand. Usually the rain descends, the floods come, the -winds blow, and there is a fall. - -[Illustration: "In the tree next to the chebec's was a brood of -robins. The crude nest was wedged carelessly into the lowest fork -of the tree, so that the cats and roving boys could help themselves -without trouble."] - -Here is a pair building upon a pile of boards under a cherry-tree; -another pair plaster their nest to the rider of an old worm-fence; -while a third couple, abandoning the woods near by, plant theirs, -against all remonstrance, upon the top of a step-ladder that the -brickmakers use daily in their drying-sheds. - -It was the superlative stupidity of this robin that saved her family. -The workmen at first knocked her nest off to the ground. She had -plenty of clay at hand, however, and began her nest again, following -the ladder as it moved about the shed. Such amazing persistence won, -of course. Out of wonder, finally, the men gave the ladder over to her -and stood aside till her family affairs were attended to. Everything -was right in time. After infinite scolding, she at last came off in -triumph, with her brood of four. - -A striking illustration of this growing alliance between us and the -birds is the nest of the great-crested flycatcher in the orchard. -Great-crest has almost become an orchard-bird. At heart he is, and -ever will be, a bird of the wilds. He is not tame--does not want to -be tame; he is bold, and the dangers and advantages of orchard life -attract him. His moving into an apple orchard is no less a wonder than -would be an Apache chief's settling in New York or Boston. - -Most observers still count Great-crest among the wild and unreclaimed. -Florence A. Merriam, speaking of his return in spring, says: "Not many -days pass, however, before he is so taken up with domestic matters -that his voice is rarely heard outside the woods"; and in Stearns's -"Birds" I find: "It does not court the society of man, but prefers -to keep aloof in the depths of the forest, where it leads a wild, -shy, and solitary life." This is not Great-crest as I know him. I -have found many of his nests, and never one in any but orchard trees. -Riding along a country road lately, I heard Great-crest's call far -ahead of me. I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole. Under -him was a pear-tree, and a hundred yards away a farm-house. In the -pear-tree I found his nest--snake-skins and all. - -[Illustration: "I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole."] - -I disagree, too, with most descriptions of this bird's cry. The -authors I have read seem never to have heard him on a quiet May -morning across a fifty-acre field. His voice is "harsh and -discordant" when sounded into one's very ears. The sweetest-toned -organ would be discordant to one inside the instrument. Give the -bird the room he demands,--wide, early-morning fields,--and listen. -A single shout, almost human it seems, wild, weird, and penetrating, -yet clear and smooth as the blast of a bugle. One can never forget -it, nor resist it; for it thrills like a resurrection call--the -last, long summons to the spring waking. This solitary note is often -repeated, but is never so rapid nor so long drawn out as the call of -the flicker. - -Great-crest is a character, one of the most individual of all our -birds. What other bird lines his nest with snake-skins? or hangs such -gruesome things out for latch-strings? He has taken up his residence -among us, but he has given us pretty plainly to understand that we -need not call, else I mistake the hint in the scaly skin that dangles -from his door. The strong personality of the bird is stamped even upon -its eggs. Where are any to match them for curious, crazy coloring? -The artist had purple inks, shading all the way from the deepest -chestnut-purple to the faintest lilac. With a sharp pen he scratched -the shell from end to end with all his colors till it was covered, -then finished it off with a few wild flourishes and crosswise scrawls. - -Like the birds of the orchards and buildings, the field-birds also are -yielding to human influences. We can almost say that we have an order -of farm-birds, so many species seem to have become entirely dependent -upon the pasture and grain-field. - -"Where did Bobolink disport himself before there were meadows in -the North and rice-fields in the South? Was he the same lithe, -merry-hearted beau then as now?" I do not know. But I do know that, -in the thirty and three years since Mr. Burroughs asked the question, -Bobolink has lost none of his nimbleness, nor forgotten one bubbling, -tinkling note of his song. Yet in his autumn journey South, from the -day he reaches the ripe reeds of the Jersey marshes till he is lost in -the wide rice-lands of Georgia, his passage is through a ceaseless, -pitiless storm of lead. Dare he return to us in spring? and can he -ever sing again? He will come if May comes--forgetting and forgiving, -dressed in as gay a suit as ever, and just as full of song. - -There is no marvel of nature's making equal to the miracle of her -temper toward man. How gladly she yields to his masterful dominion! -How sufferingly she waits for him to grow out of his spoiled, vicious -childhood. The spirit of the bobolink ought to exorcise the savage out -of us. It ought, and it does--slowly. - -We are trying, for instance, to cow the savage in us by law, to -restrain it while the birds are breeding; but we hardly succeed yet. -The mating season is scarcely over, the young not yet grown, when the -gunners about me go into the fields with their dogs and locate every -covey of quail, even counting the number of birds in each. With the -dawn of the first day of open season they are out, going from flock to -flock, killing, till the last possible bird is in their bloody bags. - -[Illustration: "He will come if May comes."] - -One of the most pathetic of all the wordless cries of the out-of-doors -is the covey-call of the female quail at night, trying to gather the -scattered flock together after the dogs are called off and the hunters -have gone home. - -[Illustration: "Within a few feet of me dropped the lonely frightened -quail."] - -It was nearly dark one December afternoon, the snow ankle-deep and -falling swiftly, when, crossing a wide field, I heard this call from a -piece of sprout-land ahead of me. Kneeling in the snow, I answered the -whistle. Instantly came a reply. Back and forth we signaled till there -was a whir of wings, and down in the soft snow within a few feet of me -dropped the lonely, frightened quail. She was the only one left of a -covey that the night before had roosted unbroken, snugly wedged, with -their tails together, under a pile of brush. - -Sharing the fields with the quails are the meadow-larks. They scale -along the grass, rarely rising higher than the cedars, flapping -rapidly for a short distance, then sailing a little in a cautious, -breath-held manner, as though wings were a new invention and just a -trifle dangerous yet. On they go to a fence-stake, and land with many -congratulatory flirts of wings and tail. Has anybody observed the -feat? They look around. Yes; here I sit,--a man on a fence across the -field,--and the lark turns toward me and calls out: "Did you see me?" - -He would be the best-bred, most elegant of our birds, were it not for -his self-consciousness. He is consumed with it. There is too much gold -and jet on his breast. But, in spite of all this, the plain, rich -back and wings, the slender legs, the long, delicate beak, the erect -carriage, the important air, the sleek, refined appearance, compel us -to put him down an aristocrat. - -In a closely cropped pasture near the house, in early June, I found -the eggs of the night-hawk. There was no nest, of course: the eggs -lay upon the grass, and, for safety, had been left directly under the -fence. The cows might not step on them here, but nothing prevented -their crushing the fragile things with their noses. - -[Illustration: "On they go to a fence-stake."] - -Lengthwise, upon one of the rails, slept the mother. She zigzagged -off at my approach, dazzled and uncertain in the white light of the -noon, making no outcry nor stopping an instant to watch the fate of -her eggs. She acted like a huge bat, slinking and dodging, out of her -element in the light, and anxious to be hid. She did not seem like -a creature that had a voice; and the way she flew would make one -think that she did not know the use of her wings. But what a circus -flier she is at night! and with what an uncanny noise she haunts the -twilight! She has made more hair stand on end, with her earthward -plunge and its unearthly boom through the dusk, than all the owls -together. It is a ghostly joke. And who would believe in the daylight -that this limp, ragged lump, dozing upon the fence or the kitchen -roof, could play the spook so cleverly in the dark? - - -III - -On the 25th of April, before the trees were in leaf, I heard the -first true wood-note of the spring. It came from the tall oaks beyond -the garden. "_Clear, clear, clear up!_" it rang, pure, untamed, and -quickening. The solitary vireo! It was his whistle, inimitable, -unmistakable; and though I had not seen him since last July, I hurried -out to the woods, sure he would greet me. - -Solitary is the largest, rarest, tamest, and sweetest-voiced of the -vireos. I soon found him high in the tops of the trees; but I wanted -him nearer. He would not descend. So I chased him, stoning and -mocking him even, till, at last, he came down to the bushes and showed -me his big blue head, white eye-rings, wing-bars, and yellow-washed -sides. - -[Illustration: "It was a love-song."] - -He did more than show himself: he sang for me. Within ten feet of -me, he began a quiet little warble of a tenderness and contentment I -never heard before. Such variety of notes, such sweetness of melody, -such easy, unconscious rendering! It was a love-song, but sung all to -himself, for he knew that there was no gentle heart to listen this -side of Virginia. He sang to his own happy heart as pure and sweet a -song as the very angels know. - -Solitary disappeared from that day. I concluded he had gone to -heavier, wilder woods to nest. It was late in June that, passing -through this brush-land, I saw hanging from an oak sapling, just above -my head, a soft, yellowish basket. It was a vireo's nest; but it was -too large, too downy, too yellow for Red-eye. There were no bunches of -white spider-webs upon it, such as Red-eye hangs all over his nest. -I stepped aside for a better view, and had just caught the glint of -a large, white-ringed eye peering over the nest's edge at me, when, -off in the woods behind me, the noon hush was startled by Solitary's -whistle--a round, pure, pearly note that broke the quiet as pearly -teeth break through the smile of a beautiful face. He soon appeared, -coming on, a tree at a time, looking and asking, in no hurry and in no -alarm. When he reached the pine overhead, his mate left the nest to -confer with him. They scolded me mildly while I climbed for a look at -the four delicately spotted eggs; but as soon as I lay down upon the -ground, the mother, without fuss or fear, slipped into the nest and -cuddled down over the eggs till her head hardly showed above the rim. -Had a few bushes been removed I could have seen the nest from my front -door. - -Why do the wood-birds so persistently build their nests along the -paths and roads? I said that even the hermit-thrush prefers a wood -with a road through it. If he possibly can he will build along that -road. And what one of the birds will not? Is it mere stupidity? Is it -curiosity to see what goes on? Is there some safety here from enemies -worse than boys and cats and dogs? Or is it that these birds take this -chance for human fellowship? If this last is the reason for their -rejecting the deep tangles for limbs that overhang roads and tufts of -grass in constantly traveled foot-paths, then they can be pardoned; -otherwise they are foolish--fatally foolish. - -The first black-and-white warbler's nest I ever found was at the -base of a clump of bushes in a narrow wood-path not ten feet from a -highway. There were acres of bushes beyond, thick and pathless, all -theirs to choose from. - -In the same piece of scrub-oak the summer after I found another -black-and-white warbler's nest. The loud talk of three of the birds -attracted me. Two of them were together, and just mated, evidently; -the third was a male, and just as plainly the luckless suitor. He was -trying to start a quarrel between the young couple, doing his best to -make the new bride break her vows. He flew just ahead of them, darting -to the ground, scuttling under the brush, and calling out, "See here! -Come here! Don't fool with him any longer! I have the place for a -nest!" - -But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly as they ran up and -down the trees and hunted under the fallen limbs and leaves for a -home-site. The male led the way and found the places; the female -passed judgment. I followed them. - -[Illustration: "But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly."] - -Every spot the cock peeped into was the finest in the woods; his -enthusiasm was constant and unbounded. "Any place is heaven," he kept -repeating, "any place, so long as I have you." But she was to do the -housekeeping, and the ecstasies of the honeymoon were not to turn her -head. She was house-hunting; and, like every woman, at her best. She -said "no," and "no," and "no." I began to think they never would -find the place, when the male darted far ahead and went out of sight -beneath some low huckleberry-bushes near a stone wall. This wall ran -between the woods and a pasture; and parallel with it, on the woods -side, was a foot-path. - -Up came the little hen, and together they scratched about under the -leaves. Suddenly the cock flew away and fetched a strip of chestnut -bark. This he turned over to his wife. Then both birds flew out to the -chestnut limbs for bark, and brought their strips back. The home was -founded. - -It was the merest cavity, pushed into the dead leaves, with three -shreds of bark for first timbers. In less than a week the structure -was finished and furnished--with a tiny white egg thickly sprinkled -with brown. I watched the spot daily, and finally saw the four young -warblers safely out into their new woods-world. But from the day the -first egg was laid until the nestlings left I constantly expected to -find everything crushed under the foot of some passer-by. - -When free from household cares the chickadee is the most sociable of -the birds of the woods. But he takes family matters seriously, and -withdraws so quietly to the unfrequented parts of the woods during -nesting-time as to seem to have migrated. Yet of the four chickadees' -nests found about the house, one was in a dead yellow birch in a bit -of deep swamp, two others were in yellow birches along wood-roads, and -the fourth was in a rotten fence-post by the main road, a long way -from any trees. - -A workman while mending the fence discovered this last nest. The post -crumbled in his hands as he tried to pull it down, revealing the nest -of moss and rabbit hair, with its five brown-and-white eggs. He left -the old post, propped it up with a sound one, and, mending the broken -walls of the cavity the best he could, hurried along with his task, -that the birds might return. They came back, found the wreckage of -dust and chips covering the eggs, tried the flimsy walls--and went -away. It was a desecrated home, neither safe nor beautiful now; so -they forsook it. - -There is no eagle's nest in this collection of thirty-six. But if Mr. -Burroughs is correct, there is the next thing to it--a humming-bird's -nest; three of them, indeed, one of which is within a stone's throw -of my door! This one is in the oaks behind my garden, but the other -two are even nearer to houses. One of these is upon the limb of a -pear-tree. The tip of this limb rubs against a woodshed connected with -a dwelling. The third nest is in a large apple orchard, in the tree -nearest the house, and saddled upon that branch of the tree which -reaches farthest toward the dwelling. So close is this nest that I can -look out of the garret window directly into it. - -[Illustration: "In a dead yellow birch."] - -I believe that Ruby-throat is so far domesticated that he rejoices -over every new flower-garden. There was nearly half an acre of -gladioli in the neighborhood one summer, where all the humming-birds -gathered from far and near. Here, for the only time in my life, I saw -a _flock_ of humming-birds. I counted eight one day; and the gardener -told me that he had often seen a dozen of them among the spikes. They -squeaked like bats, and played--about as bullets might play. In fact, -I think I dodged when they whizzed past me, as a soldier does the -first time he is under fire. - -[Illustration: "So close I can look directly into it."] - -One of my friends had a cellar window abloom with geraniums. A -ruby-throat came often to this window. One day the mistress of the -flowers caught the wee chap in her hands. He knew at once that she -meant no harm and quietly submitted. A few days later he returned and -was captured again. He liked the honey, and evidently the fondling, -too, for he came very regularly after that for the nectar and the -lady's soft hands. - -The nest behind my garden is in the top of a tall, slender maple, -with oaks and chestnuts surrounding and overshadowing it. Finding a -nest like this is inspiration for the rest of life. The only feat -comparable to it is the discovery of a bee-tree. Finding wild bees, I -think, would be good training for one intending to hunt humming-birds' -nests in the woods. But no one ever had such an intention. No one ever -deliberately started into the woods a-saying, "Go to, now; I'll find a -humming-bird's nest in here!" - -Humming-birds' nests are the gifts of the gods--rewards for patience -and for gratitude because of commoner grants. My nests have invariably -come this way, or, if you choose, by accident. The nearest I ever -came to earning one was in the case of this one in the maple. I -caught a glimpse of a humming-bird flashing around the high limbs -of a chestnut, so far up that she looked no bigger than a hornet. I -suspected instantly that she was gathering lichens for a nest, and, as -she darted off, I threw my eyes ahead of her across her path. It was -just one chance in ten thousand if I even saw her speeding through the -limbs and leaves, if I got the line of her flight, to say nothing of -a clue to her nesting-place. It was little short of a miracle. I had -tried many times before to do it, but this is the only time I ever -succeeded: my line of vision fell directly upon the tiny builder as -she dropped to her nest in the sapling. - -The structure was barely started. I might have stared at it with the -strongest glass and never made it out a nest; the sapling, too, was -no thicker at the butt than my wrist, and I should not have dreamed -of looking into its tall, spindling top for any kind of a nest. -Furthermore, as if to rob one of the last possibility of discovering -it, a stray bud, two years before, had pushed through the bark of the -limb about three inches behind where the nest was to be fixed, and -had grown, till now its leaves hung over the dainty house in an almost -perfect canopy and screen. - -For three weeks the walls of this house were going up. Is it -astonishing that, when finished, they looked like a growth of the -limb, like part and parcel of the very tree? I made a daily visit to -the sapling until the young birds flew away; then I bent the tree to -the ground and brought the nest home. It now hangs above my desk, -its thick walls, its downy bed, its leafy canopy telling still of -the little mother's unwearied industry, of her infinite love and -foresight. So faultlessly formed, so safely saddled to the limb, so -exquisitely lichened into harmony with the green around, this tiniest -nest speaks for all of the birds. How needless, how sorry, would be -the loss of these beautiful neighbors of our copses and fields! - - - - -"MUS'RATTIN'" - - -[Illustration: "Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and went -chuckling down the bank."] - -"MUS'RATTIN'" - - -One November afternoon I found Uncle Jethro back of the woodshed, -drawing a chalk-mark along the barrel of his old musket, from the -hammer to the sight. - -"What are you doing that for, Uncle Jeth?" I asked. - -"What fo'? Fo' mus'rats, boy." - -"Muskrats! Do you think they'll walk up and toe that mark, while you -knock 'em over with a stick?" - -"G'way fum yhere! What I take yo' possumin' des dozen winters fo', en -yo' dunno how to sight a gun in de moon yit? I's gwine mus'rattin' by -de moon to-night, en I won't take yo' nohow." - -Of course he took me. We went out about nine o'clock, and entering -the zigzag lane behind the barn, followed the cow-paths down to the -pasture, then cut across the fields to Lupton's Pond, the little -wood-walled lake which falls over a dam into the wide meadows along -Cohansey Creek. - -It is a wild, secluded spot, so removed that a pair of black ducks -built their nest for several springs in the deep moss about the upper -shore. - -It is shallow and deeply crusted over with lily-pads and -pickerel-weed, except for a small area about the dam, where the water -is deep and clear. There are many stumps in the upper end; and here, -in the shallows, built upon the hummocks or anchored to the submerged -roots, are the muskrats' houses. - -The big moon was rising over the meadows as we tucked ourselves snugly -out of sight in a clump of small cedars on the bank, within easy range -of the dam and commanding a view of the whole pond. The domed houses -of the muskrats--the village numbered six homes--showed plainly as -the moon came up; and when the full flood of light fell on the still -surface of the pond, we could see the "roads" of the muskrats, like -narrow channels, leading down through the pads to the open space about -the dam. - -[Illustration: "The big moon was rising over the meadows."] - -A muskrat's domestic life is erratic. Sometimes there will be a large -village in the pond, and, again, an autumn will pass without a single -new house being built. It may be that some of the old houses will -be fitted up anew and occupied; but I have known years when there -was not a house in the pond. At no time do all of the muskrats build -winter houses. The walls of the meadow ditches just under the dam are -honeycombed with subterranean passages, in which many of the muskrats -live the year round. Neither food nor weather, so far as I have found, -influence them at all in the choice of their winter quarters. In low, -wet meadows where there are no ditches, the muskrats, of course, live -altogether in mud and reed houses above ground, for the water would -flood the ordinary burrow. These structures are placed on the tussocks -along a water-hole, so that the dwellers can dive out and escape under -water when danger approaches. But here in the tide-meadows, where -the ditches are deep, the muskrats rear their families almost wholly -in underground rooms. It is only when winter comes, and family ties -dissolve, that a few of the more sociable or more adventurous club -together, come up to the pond, and while away the cold weather in -these haystack lodges. - -[Illustration: Section of muskrat's house.] - -These houses are very simple, but entirely adequate. If you will lift -the top off an ordinary meadow lodge you will find a single room, with -a bed in the middle, and at least one entrance and one exit which are -always closed to outsiders by water. - -The meadow lodge is built thus: The muskrat first chooses a large -tussock of sedge that stands well out of the water for his bedstead. -Now, from a foundation below the water, thick walls of mud and grass -are erected inclosing the tussock; a thatch of excessive thickness -is piled on; the channels leading away from the doors are dug out if -necessary; a bunch of soaking grass is brought in and made into a bed -on the tussock--and the muskrat takes possession. - -The pond lodges at the head of Lupton's are made after this fashion, -only they are much larger, and instead of being raised about a -tussock of sedge, they are built upon, and inclose, a part of a log -or stump. - -This lodge life is surely a cozy, jolly way of passing the winter. The -possums are inclined to club together whenever they can find stumps -that are roomy enough; but the muskrats habitually live together -through the winter. Here, in the single room of their house, one after -another will come, until the walls can hold no more; and, curling -up after their night of foraging, they will spend the frigid days -blissfully rolled into one warm ball of dreamful sleep. Let it blow -and snow and freeze outside; there are six inches of mud-and-reed wall -around them, and, wrapped deep in rich, warm fur, they hear nothing of -the blizzard and care nothing for the cold. - -Nor are they prisoners of the cold here. The snow has drifted over -their house till only a tiny mound appears; the ice has sealed the -pond and locked their home against the storm and desolation without: -but the main roadway from the house is below the drifting snow, and -they know where, among the stumps and button-bushes, the warm-nosed -watchers have kept breathing-holes open. The ice-maker never finds -their inner stair; its secret door opens into deep, under-water paths, -which run all over the bottom of the unfrozen pond-world. - -[Illustration: "The snow has drifted over their house till only a tiny -mound appears."] - -Unless roused by the sharp thrust of a spear, the muskrats will sleep -till nightfall. You may skate around the lodge and even sit down upon -it without waking the sleepers; but plunge your polo-stick through -the top, and you will hear a smothered _plunk, plunk, plunk_, as one -after another dives out of bed into the water below. - -The moon climbed higher up the sky and the minutes ran on to ten -o'clock. We waited. The night was calm and still, and the keen, alert -air brought every movement of the wild life about us to our ears. -The soft, cottony footfalls of a rabbit, hopping leisurely down the -moonlit path, seemed not unlike the echoing steps on silent, sleeping -streets, as some traveler passes beneath your window; a wedge of wild -geese _honked_ far over our heads, holding their mysterious way to the -South; white-footed mice scurried among the dried leaves; and our ears -were so sharpened by the frosty air that we caught their thin, wiry -squeaks. - -Presently there was a faint plash among the muskrat houses. The -village was waking up. Uncle Jethro poked the long nose of his gun -cautiously through the bushes, and watched. Soon there was a wake -in one of the silvery roads, then a parting of waves, and stemming -silently and evenly toward us, we saw the round, black head of a -muskrat. - -It was a pretty sight and a pretty shot; but I would not have had -the stillness and the moonlit picture spoiled by the blare of that -murderous musket for the pelts of fifty muskrats, and as the gun was -coming to Uncle Jethro's shoulder, I slipped my hand under the lifted -hammer. - -With just an audible grunt of impatience the old negro understood,--it -was not the first good shot that my love of wild things had spoiled -for him,--and the unsuspecting muskrat swam on to the dam. - -[Illustration: "They rubbed noses."] - -A plank had drifted against the bank, and upon this the little -creature scrambled out, as dry as the cat at home under the roaring -kitchen stove. Down another road came a second muskrat, and, swimming -across the open water at the dam, joined the first-comer on the -plank. They rubbed noses softly--the sweetest of all wild-animal -greetings--and a moment afterward began to play together. - -[Illustration: "Two little brown creatures washing calamus."] - -They were out for a frolic, and the night was splendid. Keeping one -eye open for owls, they threw off all other caution, and swam and -dived and chased each other through the water, with all the fun of -boys in swimming. - -On the bottom of the pond about the dam, in ten or twelve feet of -water, was a bed of unios. I knew that they were there, for I had cut -my feet upon them; and the muskrats knew they were there, for they -had had many a moonlight lunch of them. These mussels the muskrats -reckon sweetmeats. They are hard to get, hard to crack, but worth all -the cost. I was not surprised, then, when one of the muskrats sleekly -disappeared beneath the surface, and came up directly with a mussel. - -There was a squabble on the plank, which ended in the other muskrat's -diving for a mussel for himself. How they opened them I could not -clearly make out, for the shells were almost concealed in their paws; -but judging from their actions and the appearance of other shells -which they had opened, I should say that they first gnawed through the -big hinge at the back, then pried open the valves, and ate out the -contents. - -Having finished this first course of big-neck clams, they were joined -by a third muskrat, and, together, they filed over the bank and down -into the meadow. Shortly two of them returned with great mouthfuls of -the mud-bleached ends of calamus-blades. Then followed the washing. - -They dropped their loads upon the plank, took up the stalks, pulled -the blades apart, and soused them up and down in the water, rubbing -them with their paws until they were as clean and white as the -whitest celery one ever ate. What a dainty picture! Two little brown -creatures, humped on the edge of a plank, washing calamus in moonlit -water! - -One might have taken them for half-grown coons as they sat there -scrubbing and munching. Had the big barred owl, from the gum-swamp -down the creek, come along then, he could easily have bobbed down upon -them, and might almost have carried one away without the other knowing -it, so all-absorbing was the calamus-washing. - -Muskrats, like coons, will wash what they eat, whether washing is -needed or not. It is a necessary preliminary to dinner--their -righteousness, the little Pharisees! Judging from the washing disease -which ailed two tame muskrats that I knew, it is perfectly safe to say -that had these found clean bread and butter upon the plank, instead of -muddy calamus, they would have scoured it just the same. - -Before the two on the plank had finished their meal, the third muskrat -returned, dragging his load of mud and roots to the scrubbing. He was -just dipping into the water when there was a terrific explosion in -my ears, a roar that echoed round and round the pond. As the smoke -lifted, there were no washers upon the plank; but over in the quiet -water floated three long, slender tails. - -"No man gwine stan' dat shot, boy, jis t' see a mus'rat wash hi' -supper"; and Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and went -chuckling down the bank. - - - - -A STUDY IN BIRD MORALS - - -[Illustration: "She melted away among the dark pines like a shadow."] - -A STUDY IN BIRD MORALS - - -The eternal distinctions of right and wrong upon which the moral law -is based inhere even in the jelly of the amoeba. The Decalogue binds -all the way down. In the course of a little observation one must find -how faithfully the animals, as a whole, keep the law, and how sadly, -at times, certain of them are wont to break it. - -To pass over such notorious cases as the cow-bird, cuckoo, -turkey-buzzard, and crow, there is still cause for positive alarm, if -the birds have souls, in the depraved habit of duplicity common among -them. In a single short tramp, one June afternoon, no less than five -different birds attempted to deceive me. The casuist may be able to -justify all five of them; for, no doubt, there are extremities when -this breach of the law should not merit condemnation; but even so, if -in the limits of one short walk _five_ little innocents deliberately -act out the coolest of falsehoods, one cannot help wondering if it is -not true that the whole creation needs redeeming. - -The first of these five was a yellow warbler. I was trying to look -into her nest, which was placed in the top of a clump of alders in -a muddy pasture, when she slipped out and fluttered like an autumn -leaf to the ground. She made no outcry, but wavered down to my feet -with quivering wings, and dragged herself over the water and mud as -if wounded. I paused to look at her, and, as long as I watched, she -played her best to lure me. A black-snake would have struck at her -instantly; but I knew her woman's ways and turned again to the nest. -As soon as she saw that her tears and prayers would not avail; she -darted into the bushes near me and called me every wicked thing that -she could think of. I deserved it all, of course, though I was only -curious to see her cradle and its holdings, which, had she been a -human mother, she would have insisted on my stopping to see. - -[Illustration: "She called me every wicked thing that she could think -of."] - -On the way to Lupton's I climbed a sharp, pine-covered hill, where the -needles were so slippery that I had to halt for a minute's rest at -the top. The trees rose straight and close and slender, with scarcely -a live branch reaching out nearer the ground than twenty feet. The -roof of green shut out the light, and the matting of brown spread the -ground so deep that only a few stunted blueberry-bushes, small ferns, -and straying runners of ground-pine abode there. It was one of those -cathedral-like clumps, a holy of holies of the woods, into whose dim -silence the straggling bushes, briers, and other lowly forest folk -dare not come, but fall upon their knees outside and worship. - -[Illustration: "It was one of those cathedral-like clumps."] - -The birds, however, are not so reverent. I was scarcely stretched upon -the needles when a slight movement overhead arrested my attention. -As I looked, a soft fluttering of wings brought a blue jay into the -branches directly above me. There is nothing peculiar in finding a -blue jay among the pines--they usually nest there. But there was -something peculiar about this jay; he moved so quietly, he appeared so -entirely unconscious of me, though I knew that he saw me as plainly as -I him. Then at his side alighted his mate, meeker and more modest than -a chippy. - -What did it signify--these squawking, scolding, garrulous birds -suddenly gone silent and trustful? In the pines at this season one -never gets nearer a jay than field-glass range--near enough to hear -him dash away, screeching defiance. But here were these two gliding -among the branches above my head as cautiously and softly as -cuckoos, searching apparently for grubs, yet keeping all the time to -the one spot, not leaving for a moment to hunt among other trees. -Round and round the same limbs they went, without once screaming or -uttering so much as a word of that sweet, confiding talk which one -hears when he spies on a pair of lovers or a newly wedded couple of -these birds. I became suspicious. All this meant something. They kept -close together, and fluttered about, hanging from the twigs head down -like chickadees, deliberately biting off bunches of needles, prying -into the cones, and scaling off bits of bark, but finding nothing, nor -even trying to find anything. - -At this juncture I chanced to move my feet. The birds stopped -instantly; but on my becoming quiet they went on scattering the -needles and bark-chips again. Then I raised my glass. They paused -just for a second, and continued, though now I saw that their picking -was all at random, hitting the limb or not as might be. They were not -hunting grubs: they were watching me; and more--they were keeping me -watching them. - -[Illustration: "They were watching me."] - -It was a clever little ruse. But it was too good, too new, too -unjaylike for my faith. There was a nest against one of these pines, -as sure as it was June. And this fearless unconcern? this new and -absorbing interest in grubs? All assumed!--very genuinely assumed, -indeed, and might have led me to do a dozen things other than looking -for the nest, had I known a little less of jays. It was heroic, too. -They were calm and had all their wits about them. Outwardly they were -indifferent to my presence and gave me not the slightest heed. But -this was all show. Every instant they saw me; and, while pretending -not to know that I was near, they had come to intercept me, to attract -my attention to themselves, and save their nest. And at how much cost! -To have looked within those calm little bosoms were to have seen two -hearts as anxious and fearful as ever thumped parental breasts. - -If I had been deceived and led to waste my afternoon or to record -something untrue of the blue jay, still, I think, these two birds -could hardly have been condemned before the law. For did not their -motive justify the deed? - -The blue jays are braggarts, full of noise, and almost without morals; -yet they have not seemed to me quite as bad as they used to, not quite -the same blustering, quarrelsome, unmoral renegades, since these two -showed me how they could conquer their instinctive fears and rise -superior to everything common and cowardly by the power of their -parental love. - -I could not find the nest; so returning the next day, I crept under -cover to the foot of the hill, and, ascending stealthily, saw the hen -as she slipped from the home tree. She melted away among the dark -pines like a shadow, but reappeared immediately with her mate to head -me off again. Not this time, however, for I had their secret. My eye -was upon the nest. It was a loose, rough affair of coarse sticks, -fixed upon two dead branches well up against a slender pine's trunk. -I could see patches of light sky through it, it was such a botch. But -where art failed nature perfected. I saw the sky through the bungled -structure, but not the eggs. I had to climb to see them, for they were -so washed with shadowy green that they blended perfectly with the -color of the nest and the subdued light of the pines. - -After my adventure with the jays I had an interesting experience with -a pair of tiny birds in the sand-bank on the north side of Lupton's -Pond. - -The country immediately surrounding the pond is exceedingly varied and -full of life. The high, level farm-lands break off into sandbanks, -which, in turn, spread into sweeping meadows that run out to the -creek. The little pond lies between steep hills of chestnut-oak and -pine, its upper waters being lost in a dense swamp of magnolia and -alder, while over the dam at its foot there rushes a fall that echoes -around the wooded hills and then goes purling among the elder and dog -roses into the sullen tide-ditches of the meadow. Except the meadows -and cultivated fields, everything is on a small scale, as if the place -were made of the odds and ends, the left-over pieces in the making -of the region round about. Such diversity of soils, such a medley of -features, such profusion of life, in a territory of the same size I -never saw elsewhere. At the boarding-school, near by, Lupton's Pond is -known as "Paradise." - -On reaching the pond I went over to the sand-bank to look for a pair -of kingfishers who had nested there many years; but instead of them, I -saw a pair of winter wrens fly sharply among the washed-out roots of a -persimmon-tree which stood on the edge of the hill above. I instantly -lost sight of one of the birds. The actions of the other were so -self-conscious that I stopped and watched--I had never found a winter -wren's nest. In a moment the missing bird appeared and revealed the -nest. It was large for the size of the builders, made of sticks, -grass, and feathers, and was fixed among the black roots just below -the green hilltop, and set into the sand far enough to leave a little -of one side exposed. - -The wrens hurried away on my approach; but when I retreated to the -foot of the bank, they darted back to the nest, the hen entering -without a pause, while the cock perched upon a root at the door and -began a most extraordinary performance. - -He managed to put himself directly between me and the tiny portal, -completely cutting off my view of the little brown wife inside the -nest; then, spreading his wings, with tail up and head on one side, he -fluttered and bobbed and wagged and poured out a volume of song that -was prodigious. It lifted him fairly off his feet. Had he suddenly -gone up with a whizz, like a sky-rocket, and burst into a shower of -bubbles, trills, runs, and wild, ecstatic warbles, I should have -looked on with no more wonder. Such a song! It was singing gone mad. - -My head was on a level with him. I leaned forward nearer the bank. -At this he went crazy with his efforts--into a fit, almost. I cannot -have been mistaken: it was the first time that I had ever heard a bird -sing when in terror; but I had whistled my way past too many dogs -and through too many graveyards at night to be deceived in the note -of fear, and in the purpose of this song. That bit of a husband was -scared almost out of his senses; but there he stood, squarely between -me and that precious nest and the more precious wife, guarding them -from my evil eyes with every atom of his midget self. - -It was as fine an illustration of courage as I ever saw, a triumph of -love and duty over fear--fear that perhaps we have no way to measure. -And it was a triumph of wedded love at that; for there were no young, -not even an egg in the unfinished nest. It all happened in less than -a minute. The female reappeared in an instant, satisfied that all was -well with the nest, and both birds sped off and dropped among the -briers. - -How would the casuist decide for so sweet, so big, so heroic a -deception--or the attempt? - -A little farther down the creek, where the meadows meet the marsh, -dwell the cousins of the winter wrens, the long-billed marsh-wrens. -Here in the wide reaches of calamus and reeds, where the brackish tide -comes in, the marsh-wrens build by hundreds. Their big, bulky nests -are woven about a handful of young calamus-blades, or tied to a few -long, stout sedge-stalks, and grow as the season grows. - -[Illustration: "A triumph of love and duty over fear."] - -The nests are made of coarse marsh-grass,--of the floatage often,--and -are so long in the process of construction that, when completed, they -are all speared through with the grass-blades, as with so many green -bayonets. They are about the size of a large calabash, nearly round, -thick-walled and heavy, with a small entrance, just under the roof, -leading upward like a short stair to a deep, pocket-like cavity, at -whose bottom lie the eggs, barely out of finger reach. - -I could hear the smothered racket of the singing wrens all about me -in the dense growth, scoldings to my right, defiance to my left, -discussions of wives, grumblings of husbands, and singing of lovers -everywhere, until the whole marsh seemed a-sputter and a-bubble with a -gurgling tide of song like a river running in. Now and then, a wave, -rising higher than its fellows, splashed up above the reeds and broke -into song-spray, as an ecstasy lifted the wee brown performer out of -the green. - -But these short dashes of the wrens into upper air, I have come to -believe, are not entirely the flights of enraptured souls. Something -more than Mr. Chapman's "mine of music bursts within them." Before -they knew that I was near I rarely saw one make this singing dive into -the air; but as soon as they were acquainted with my presence they -appeared on every hand. I had not gone fifty feet into their reedy -domain when I began to catch a furious berating. The knives of the -mowing-machine up in the meadow went no faster nor sharper than these -unseen tongues in the reeds. Suddenly a bit of brown fury dashed into -view near me, spattered the air thick with song-notes, and, as if -veiled by this cloud of melody, it turned on its head and dived back, -chattering of all that was seen to the other furies in the reeds. - -Does any one believe that exhibition to be an explosion of pure -song--the exaltation of unmixed joy? If ever the Ninth Commandment was -broken, it was broken here. - -This uncontrollable emotion, this shower of song, is but a cloak to -the singer's fear and curiosity. He wants to know where I am and what -I am about. I once knew a little dog who was so afraid of the dark -that he would run barking all the way to the barn when put out at -night. So these little spies start up singing their biggest as a blind -to their real feelings and purposes. - -The quail's broken wings and rushes of blood to the head during -nesting-time have lost their lure even for the small boy; yet they -somehow still work on me. I involuntarily give my attention to this -distress until too late to catch sight of the scurrying brood. I -imagine, too, that the oldest and wisest of the foxes is still fooled -by this make-believe, and will continue to be fooled to the end of -time. - -A barren, stony hillside slopes gradually to the marsh where the wrens -live. Here I was met by the fifth deceiver, a killdeer plover. The -killdeer's crocodile tears are bigger and more touchingly genuine than -even the quail's. And, besides all her tricks, she has a voice that -fairly drips woe. - -The killdeer always builds in a worn-out, pebbly pasture or in a bare, -unused field. Here among the stones she makes her nest by scraping -out a shallow cavity, into which she scratches a few bits of rotten -wood and weed-stalks in sizes that would make good timber for a -caddis-worm's house. Instead of digging the cavity, she often hunts up -two or three stones and a corn-butt, which happen to lie so that she -can crowd in between them, and makes this shift serve her for a nest. - -[Illustration: "He wants to know where I am and what I am about."] - -Her eggs are one of the world's small wonders. They lie out in the -open like so many of the pebbles about them--resembling the stones -so perfectly that they are more often overlooked or crushed than -discovered. The ground color of the egg is that of the earth, and the -markings correspond marvelously to the size, shade, and distribution -of the bits of wood beneath them in the nest. I know of no other -instance of protective coloring among the birds so nearly perfect, -unless it be the killdeer herself when playing her favorite trick of -"invisible." - -She had seen me before I entered the reeds of the marsh-wrens. -Squatting close over her eggs, she watched me silently, and seeing -that I was approaching her nest on my way up the hill, she glided off -and suddenly appeared at my feet. Where she came from I did not know. -It was as if the earth had opened and let her out. I stopped. That -was what she wanted. "You numskull, look at me and make a fool of -yourself," she said by the light in her eye. I did exactly so. - -With her head outstretched and body close to the ground, she slid like -a ghost before me as I followed. Now she took form like a stone, now -seemed to sink out of sight into the earth, reappearing only to vanish -again into thin air. Thus she led me on, contriving to keep from -beneath my feet, and always just out of reach, till, seeing that my -credulity and patience were failing, she broke silence for a desperate -last act, and fell in a fit, screaming, _Kill-dee, kill-dee, kill-dee!_ - -There she lay in the agony of death. I stooped to pick her up; but she -happened to flutter a little--the death-spasm. I stepped forward to -take her. Putting my hand down, I--ah! not dead yet! Poor thing! She -jerked just out of my hand--reflex action, no doubt. But now it is all -over; she is dead, and I bend to pick her up, when, springing like -an arrow from my grasp, killdeer, ringing out her wail, goes swiftly -flying across the hill. - -Fooled! Yes; but not altogether fooled, for I knew that it would turn -out so. The impostor! But wasn't it beautifully done? I shall never -grow too wise to be duped. - -She has played me a trick, and now I will revenge myself and find her -nest. I shall--perhaps. - -[Illustration: "In the agony of death."] - - - - -RABBIT ROADS - - -[Illustration] - -RABBIT ROADS - - -In your woods walks did you ever notice a little furrow or -tunnel through the underbrush, a tiny roadway in the briers and -huckleberry-bushes? Did you ever try to follow this path to its -beginning or end, wondering who traveled it? You have, doubtless. But -the woods must be wild and the undergrowth thick and you must be as -much at home among the trees as you are in your own dooryard, else -this slight mark will make no impression upon you. - -But enter any wild tract of wood or high swamp along the creek, and -look sharp as you cut across the undergrowth. You will not go far -before finding a narrow runway under your feet. It is about five -inches wide, leading in no particular direction, and is evidently made -by cutting off the small stems of vines and bushes at an inch or more -from the ground. The work looks as if it had been laid out by rule and -done with a sharp knife, it is so regular and clean. - -This is a rabbit road. Follow it a few rods and you will find it -crossed by another road, exactly similar. Take this new path now, and -soon you are branching off, turning, and joining other roads. You -are in rabbit-land, traveling its highways--the most complicated and -entangling system of thoroughfares that was ever constructed. The -individual roads are straight and plain enough, but at a glance one -can see that the plan of the system is intended to bewilder and lead -astray all who trespass here. Without a map and directions no one -could hope to arrive at any definite point through such a snarl. - -There often comes along with the circus a building called the -"Moorish Maze," over whose entrance is this invitation: - - COME IN AND GET LOST! - -This is what one reads at the cross-roads in rabbit-land. There are -finger-boards and mile-stones along the way; but they point nowhere -and mark no distances except to the rabbits. - -An animal's strong points usually supplement each other; its -well-developed powers are in line with its needs and mode of life. -So, by the very demands of his peculiar life, the beaver has become -chief among all the animal engineers, his specialty being dams. He can -make a good slide for logging, but of the construction of speedways he -knows absolutely nothing. The rabbit, on the other hand, is a runner. -He can swim if he is obliged to. His interests, however, lie mostly in -his heels, and hence in his highways. So Bunny has become an expert -road-maker. He cannot build a house, nor dig even a respectable den; -he is unable to climb, and his face is too flat for hole-gnawing: -but turn him loose in a brambly, briery wilderness, and he will soon -thread the trackless waste with a network of roads, and lay it open -to his nimble feet as the sky lies open to the swallow's wings. - -But how maddening these roads are to the dogs and foxes! In the first -place, they have a peculiar way of beginning nowhere in particular, -and of vanishing all at once, in the same blind fashion. I am not sure -that I ever found a satisfactory end to a rabbit's road--that is, a -nest, a playground, or even a feeding-place. Old Calamity, the hound, -is always tormented and undone whenever she runs foul of a rabbit road. - -[Illustration: "Calamity is hot on his track."] - -She will start Bunny in the open field, and trail away after him in -full tongue as fast as her fat bow-legs will carry her. The rabbit -makes for the woods. Calamity is hot on his track, going down toward -the creek. Suddenly she finds herself plunging along a rabbit road, -breaking her way through by sheer force where the rabbit slipped -along with perfect ease. She is following the path now rather than -the scent, and, all at once, discovers that she is off the trail. She -turns and goes back. Yes, here the rabbit made a sharp break to the -right by a side-path; the track is fresh and warm, and the old hound -sings in her eager delight. On she goes with more haste, running the -path again instead of the trail, and--there is no path! It is gone. -This bothers the old dog; but her nose is keen and she has picked up -the course again. Here it goes into another road. She gives tongue -again, and rushes on, when--_Wow!_ she has plunged into a thick and -thorny tangle of greenbrier. - -That is where the torment comes in. These roads have a habit of taking -in the brier-patches. Calamity will go round a patch if she can; she -will work her way through if she must--but it is at the cost of bloody -ears and a thousand smarting pricks. Bunny, meantime, is watching -just inside the next brier-patch, counting the digs of his clumsy -pursuer. - -I suppose that this "blind alley" kind of road is due to the fact that -the rabbits have no regular homes. They make a nest for the young; but -they never have dens, like minks and coons. In New England they often -live in holes and among the crannies of the stone walls; and there, as -far as I have seen, they rarely or never make roads. Farther south, -where the winters are less severe, they dig no holes, for they prefer -an open, even an exposed, bed to any sort of shelter. - -Shelters are dangerous. Bunny cannot back into a burrow and bare his -teeth to his enemy; he is not a fighter. He can run, and he knows it; -legs are his salvation, and he must have room to limber them. If he -has to fight, then give him the open, not a hole; for it is to be a -kangaroo kicking match, and a large ring is needed. He had as well -surrender himself at once as to run into a hole that has only one -opening. - -During the cold, snowy weather the rabbits usually leave the bare -fields for the woods, though the older and wiser ones more frequently -suffer the storms than risk the greater danger of such a move. When -pressed by hunger or hounded hard, they often take to a rail-pile, -and sometimes they grow so bold as to seek hiding under a barn or -house. One young buck lived all winter in the wood-pile of one of my -neighbors, becoming so tame that he fed with the chickens. - -[Illustration: "Bunny, meantime, is watching just inside the next -brier-patch."] - -The nearest approach that a rabbit makes to a house is his "squat," -or form. This is simply a sitting-place in the fields or along the -woods, that he will change every time he is thoroughly frightened out -of it. Undisturbed he will stay in this squat for months at a time. -Occasionally a rabbit will have two or three squats located over his -range, each one so placed that a wide view on every side may be had. -If it is along the woods, then he sits facing the open fields, with -his ears laid back toward the trees. He can hear as far as he can see, -and his nose tells him who is coming up the wind sooner than either -eyes or ears. - -It is cold, lonely living here in the winter. But everybody, except -the mice and little birds, are enemies, his only friends being -his wits and legs. In the long run, wits and legs are pretty safe -insurance. "He who fights and runs away will live to fight another -day," is Bunny's precept--and it works well; he still thrives. - -The squat is a cold place. The sky is its roof, and its only -protection is the tuft of grass, the stone, or the stump beside which -it is placed. Bunny may change to the lee or windward side, as suits -him, during a storm; but usually he keeps his place and lies close -to the ground, no matter how the wind blows, or how fiercely falls -the rain and snow. I have frequently started them from their squats -in bleak, wind-swept fields, when the little brown things were -completely snowed under. - -There is great individuality among all animals, and though the rabbits -look as much alike as peas, they are no exception to the rule. This -personality is especially shown in their whimsical fancies for certain -squats. Here, within sight of the house and the dog, an old rabbit -took up her abode on a big, flat rail in the corner of the fence. -Of course no hawk or owl could touch her here, for they dared not -swoop between the rails; the dog and cat could scent her, but she -had already whipped the cat, and she had given Calamity so many long -runs that the hound was weary of her. The strategic value of such a -situation is plain: she was thus raised just above the level of the -field and commanded every approach. Perhaps it was not whim, but -wisdom, that led to this selection. - -I knew another, a dwarf rabbit, that always got into a bare or plowed -field and squatted beside a brown stone or clod of earth. Experience -had taught him that he looked like a clod, and that no enemy ever -plagued him when he lay low in the brown soil. - -[Illustration: "The squat is a cold place."] - -One summer I stumbled upon a squat close along the public road. -Cart-loads of trash had been dumped there, and among the debris was a -bottomless coal-scuttle. In the coal-scuttle a rabbit made his squat. -Being open at both ends, it sheltered him beautifully from sun and -rain. Here he sat, napping through the day, watching the interesting -stream of passers-by, himself hidden by the rank weeds and grass. When -discovered by a dog or boy, he tripped out of one of his open doors -and led the intruder a useless run into the swamp. - -At one time my home was separated from the woods by only a -clover-field. This clover-field was a favorite feeding-ground for the -rabbits of the vicinity. Here, in the early evening, they would gather -to feed and frolic; and, not content with clover, they sometimes went -into the garden for a dessert of growing corn and young cabbage. - -Take a moonlight night in autumn and hide in the edge of these woods. -There is to be a rabbit party in the clover-field. The grass has -long been cut and the field is clean and shining; but still there is -plenty to eat. The rabbits from both sides of the woods are coming. -The full moon rises above the trees, and the cottontails start over. -Now, of course, they use the paths which they cut so carefully the -longest possible way round. They hop leisurely along, stopping now and -then to nibble the sassafras bark or to get a bite of wintergreen, -even quitting the path, here and there, for a berry or a bunch of -sweet wood-grass. - -"Stop a moment; this won't do! Here is a side-path where the briers -have grown three inches since they were last cut off. This path must -be cleared out at once," and the old buck falls to cutting. By the -time he has finished the path a dozen rabbits have assembled in the -clover-field. When he appears there is a _thump_, and all look up; -some one runs to greet the new-comer; they touch whiskers and smell, -then turn to their eating. - -The feast is finished, and the games are on. Four or five of the -rabbits have come together for a turn at hop-skip-and-jump. And such -hop-skip-and-jump! They are professionals at this sport, every one of -them. There is not a rabbit in the game that cannot leap five times -higher than he can reach on his tiptoes, and hop a clean ten feet. - -[Illustration: "The limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that -fox."] - -Over and over they go, bounding and bouncing, snapping from their -marvelous hind legs as if shot from a spring-trap. It is the greatest -jumping exhibition that you will ever see. To have such legs as these -is the next best thing to having wings. - -Right in the thick of the fun sounds a sharp _thump! thump!_ Every -rabbit "freezes." It is the stamp of an old buck, the call, _Danger! -danger!_ He has heard a twig break in the woods, or has seen a soft, -shadowy thing cross the moon. - -As motionless as stumps squat the rabbits, stiff with the tenseness of -every ready muscle. They listen. But it was only a dropping nut or a -restless bird; and the play continues. - -They are chasing each other over the grass in a game of tag. There go -two, round and round, tagging and re-tagging, first one being "it" and -then the other. Their circle widens all the time and draws nearer to -the woods. This time round they will touch the bush behind which we -are watching. Here they come--there they go; they will leap the log -yonder. Flash! squeak! scurry! Not a rabbit in the field! Yes; one -rabbit--the limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that fox -trotting off yonder in the shadows, along the border of the woods! - -The picnic is over for this night, and it will be some time before the -cottontails so far forget themselves as to play in this place again. - -It is small wonder that animals do not laugh. They have so little -play. The savage seldom laughs, for he hunts and is hunted like a -wild animal, and is allowed so scant opportunity to be off guard that -he cannot develop the power to laugh. Much more is this true of the -animals. From the day an animal is born, instinct and training are -bent toward the circumvention of enemies. There is no time to play, no -chance, no cause for laughter. - -The little brown rabbit has least reason of all to be glad. He is -utterly inoffensive, the enemy of none, but the victim of many. Before -he knows his mother he understands the meaning of _Be ready! Watch!_ -He drinks these words in with his milk. The winds whisper them; the -birds call them; every leaf, every twig, every shadow and sound, says: -_Be ready! Watch!_ Life is but a series of escapes, little else than -vigilance and flight. He must sleep with eyes open, feed with ears -up, move with muffled feet, and, at short stages, he must stop, rise -on his long hind legs, and listen and look. If he ever forgets, if he -pauses one moment for a wordless, noiseless game with his fellows, he -dies. For safety's sake he lives alone; but even a rabbit has fits of -sociability, and gives way at times to his feelings. The owl and the -fox know this, and they watch the open glades and field-edges. They -must surprise him. - -The barred owl is quick at dodging, but Bunny is quicker. It is the -owl's soft, shadow-silent wings that are dreaded. They spirit him -through the dusk like a huge moth, wavering and aimless, with dangling -dragon-claws. But his drop is swift and certain, and the grip of those -loosely hanging legs is the very grip of death. There is no terror -like the ghost-terror of the owl. - -[Illustration: "His drop is swift and certain."] - -The fox is feared; but then, he is on legs, not wings, and there are -telltale winds that fly before him, far ahead, whispering, _Fox, fox, -fox!_ The owl, remember, like the wind, has wings--wings that are -faster than the wind's, and the latter cannot get ahead to tell of -his coming. Reynard is cunning. Bunny is fore-sighted, wide awake, -and fleet of foot. Sometimes he is caught napping--so are we all; but -if in wits he is not always Reynard's equal, in speed he holds his -own very well with his enemy. Reynard is nimble, but give the little -cottontail a few feet handicap in a race for life, and he stands a -fair chance of escape, especially in the summer woods. - -When the hounds are on his trail the rabbit saves his legs by -outwitting his pursuers. He will win a long distance ahead of them, -and before they overtake him he will double on his track, approaching -as near as he dare to the dogs, then leap far aside upon a log, into -a stream, or among the bushes, and strike out in a new direction, -gradually making back toward the starting-place. He rises on his -haunches to listen, as he goes along, and before the dogs have again -picked up the trail, he has perhaps had time to rest and lunch. - -If it were a matter of dogs only, life would be just full enough of -excitement to be interesting. He can double, balk, and mix trails on -them, and enjoy it. They are nothing to fool. But the gun! Ah, that's -a foe which he cannot get up with. He may double and confuse the -dogs; but as he comes back along a side-road, with them yelping far in -the rear, he often hops right into a game-bag. - -To do justice to the intelligence of the dog, and to be truthful about -the rabbit, it must be remembered that, in the chase, Bunny usually -has the advantage of knowing the lay of the land. The short cuts, -streams, logs, briers, and roads are all in mind before he takes a -jump. The dog is often on strange ground. Free the rabbit for the -hunt, as you do the fox, on unknown territory, and the dogs will soon -take the frightened, bewildered little creature. - -There is no braver or more devoted mother in all the wilds than Molly -Cottontail. She has a mother's cunning and a mother's resourcefulness, -also. But this is to be expected. If number of children count for -experience, then, surely, Molly ought to be resourceful. There -are seasons when she will raise as many as three families--and -old-fashioned families for size, too. It is not uncommon to find ten -young rabbits in a nest. Five times twins! And all to be fed, washed, -and kept covered up in bed together! But animal children, as a rule, -behave better than human children, so we may not measure the task of -Mother Molly by any standard of our own. It is task enough, however, -since you can scarcely count the creatures that eat young rabbits, -nor the enemies that unwittingly destroy them. A heavy rain may drown -them, cattle may crush them, mowing-machines may cut them to pieces, -and boys who are starting menageries may carry them away to starve. - -Molly's mother-wit and craft are sufficient for most of these things. -She picks out a sunny hillside among high grasses and bushes for the -nest, so that the rain will flow off and not flood it, and because -that here the cows are not so likely to trample, nor the plow and -mowing-machine to come. She must also have ready and hidden access to -the nest, which the grass and bushes afford. - -She digs a little hollow in the sand about a foot deep and as big -around as a duck's nest, lines it first with coarse grasses and -leaves, then with a layer of finer grass, and fills the whole with -warm, downy fur plucked from her own sides and breast. This nest, not -being situated at the end of an inaccessible burrow, like the tame -rabbit's or woodchuck's, requires that all care be taken to conceal -every sign of it. The raw sand that is thrown out is artfully covered -with leaves and grass to blend with the surrounding ground; and over -the nest itself I have seen the old rabbit pull vines and leaves until -the inquisitive, nosing skunk would have passed it by. - -Molly keeps the young ones in this bed for about two weeks, after -which time, if frightened, they will take to their heels. They are -exceedingly tender at this age and ought not to be allowed to run out. -They do not know what a man is, and hardly understand what their hind -legs are. I saw one that was at least a month old jump up before a -mowing-machine and bolt across the field. It was his first real scare, -and the first time that he had been called upon to test his legs. It -was funny. He didn't know how to use them. He made some tremendous -leaps, and was so unused to the powerful spring in his hind feet that -he turned several complete somersaults in the air. - -Molly feeds the family shortly after nightfall, and always tucks them -in when leaving, with the caution to lie quiet and still. She is -not often surprised with her young, but lingers near on guard. You -can easily tell if you are in the neighborhood of her nest by the way -she thumps and watches you, and refuses to be driven off. Here she -waits, and if anything smaller than a dog appears she rushes to meet -it, stamping the ground in fury. A dog she will intercept by leaving a -warm trail across his path, or, in case the brute has no nose for her -scent, by throwing herself in front of him and drawing him off on a -long chase. - -One day, as I was quietly picking wild strawberries on a hill, I heard -a curious grunting down the side below me, then the quick _thud! -thud!_ of an angry rabbit. Among the bushes I caught a glimpse of -rabbit ears. A fight was on. - -Crouching beside a bluish spot, which I knew to be a rabbit's nest, -was a big yellow cat. He had discovered the young ones, and was making -mouths at the thought of how they would taste, when the mother's thump -startled him. He squatted flat, with ears back, tail swelled, and hair -standing up along his back, as the rabbit leaped over him. It was a -glimpse of Molly's ears, as she made the jump, that I had caught. It -was the beginning of the bout--only a feint by the rabbit, just to try -the mettle of her antagonist. - -The cat was scared, and before he got himself together, Molly, with a -mighty bound, was in the air again, and, as she flashed over him, she -fetched him a stunning whack on the head that knocked him endwise. He -was on his feet in an instant, but just in time to receive a stinging -blow on the ear that sent him sprawling several feet down the hill. -The rabbit seemed constantly in the air. Back and forth, over and over -the cat she flew, and with every bound landed a terrific kick with her -powerful hind feet, that was followed by a puff of yellow fur. - -The cat could not stand up to this. Every particle of breath and fight -was knocked out of him at about the third kick. The green light in his -eyes was the light of terror. He got quickly to a bush, and ran away, -else I believe that the old rabbit would have beaten him to death. - -The seven young ones in the nest were unharmed. Molly grunted and -stamped at me for looking at them; but I was too big to kick as she -had just kicked the cat, and I could not be led away to chase her, -as she would have led a dog. The little fellows were nearly ready to -leave the nest. A few weeks later, when the wheat was cut in the field -above, one of the seven was killed by the long, fearful knife of the -reaper. - -[Illustration: "Seven young ones in the nest."] - -Perhaps the other six survived until November, the beginning of the -gunning season. But when the slaughter was past, if one lived, he -remembered more than once the cry of the hounds, the crack of the gun, -and the sting of shot. He has won a few months' respite from his human -enemies; but this is not peace. There is no peace for him. He may -escape a long time yet; but his foes are too many for him. He fights a -good fight, but must lose at last. - - - - -BRICK-TOP - - -[Illustration] - -BRICK-TOP - - -That man was not only an item in the reckoning when the world was -made, but that his attributes were anticipated too, is everywhere -attested by the way nature makes use of his wreckage. She provides -bountifully for his comfort, and, not content with this, she takes -his refuse, his waste, what he has bungled and spoiled, and out of -it fashions some of her rarest, daintiest delicacies. She gathers up -his chips and cobs, his stubble and stumps,--the crumbs which fall -from his table,--and brings them back to him as the perfection of her -culinary art. - -So, at least, any one with an imagination and a cultivated taste will -say after he has eaten that October titbit, the brick-top mushroom. - -The eating of mushrooms is a comparatively unappreciated privilege -in our country. The taste is growing rapidly; but we have such an -abundance of more likely stuff to live upon that the people have -wisely abstained from a fungus diet. All things considered, it -is a legitimate and wholesome horror, this wide-spread horror of -toadstools. The woods, the wild fields, and the shaded roadsides gleam -all through July and August with that pale, pretty "spring mushroom," -the deadly _Agaricus (Amanita) vernus_; yet how seldom we hear of even -a child being poisoned by eating it! Surely it seems as if our fear -of toadstools, like our hatred for snakes, has become an instinct. I -have never known a mushroom enthusiast who had not first to conquer -an almost mortal dread and to coax his backward courage and appetite -by the gentlest doses. And this is well. An appetite for mushrooms is -not wholly to be commended. Strangely enough, it is not the novice -only who happens to suffer: the professional, the addicted eater, not -infrequently falls a victim. - -The risk the beginner runs is mainly from ignorance of the species. -In gathering anything one naturally picks the fairest and most -perfect. Now among the mushrooms the most beautiful, the ideal shapes -are pretty sure to be of the poisonous _Amanita_ tribe, whose toxic -breath throws any concentrated combination of arsenic, belladonna, -and Paris green far into the shade. There is nothing morally wrong in -the mushroom habit, yet for downright fatality it is eclipsed only by -the opium habit and the suicidal taste for ballooning. - -There are good people, nevertheless, who will eat mushrooms-toadstools -even, if you please. The large cities have their mycological societies -in spite of muscarine and phallin, as they have kennel clubs in spite -of hydrophobia. Therefore, let us take the frontispiece of skull and -crossbones, which Mr. Gibson thoughtfully placed in his poetic book -on toadstools, for the centerpiece of our table, bring on the broiled -brick-tops, and insist that, as for us, we _know_ these to be the very -ambrosia of the gods. - -The development of a genuine enthusiasm for mushrooms--for anything, -in fact--is worth the risk. Eating is not usually a stimulus to -the imagination; but one cannot eat mushrooms in any other than -an ecstatic frame of mind. If it chances to be your first meal -of brick-tops (you come to the task with the latest antidote at -hand), there is a stirring of the soul utterly impossible in -the eating of a prosaic potato. You are on the verge all the time -of discovery--of quail on toast, oysters, beefsteak, macaroni, -caviar, or liver, according to your nationality, native fancy, and -mycological intensity. The variety of meats, flavors, and wholesome -nutrients found in mushrooms by the average mycologist beggars all -the tales told by breakfast-food manufacturers. After listening to a -warm mycologist one feels as Caleb felt at sight of the grapes and -pomegranates: the children of Anak may be there, but this land of -the mushroom is the land of milk and honey; let us go up at once and -possess it. - -[Illustration: "The land of the mushroom."] - -If eating mushrooms quickens the fancy, the gathering of them sharpens -the eye and trains the mind to a scientific accuracy in detail that -quite balances any tendency toward a gustato-poetic extravagance. When -one's life, when so slight a matter as one's dinner, depends upon the -nicest distinctions in stem, gills, color, and age, even a Yankee will -cease guessing and make a desperate effort to know what he is about. - -Here is where brick-top commends itself over many other species of -mushroom that approach the shape of the deadly _Amanita_. It -is umbrella-shaped, moderately long-stemmed, regularly gilled, and -without a "cup" or bulge at the root, rather pointed instead. It -is a rich brick-brown or red at the center of the cap, shading off -lighter toward the circumference. The gills in fresh young specimens -are a light drab, turning black later with the black spores. It comes -in September, and lasts until the heavy snows fall, growing rarely -anywhere but in the woods upon _oak_ stumps. I have found a few -scattering individuals among the trees, and I took two out of my lawn -one autumn. But oak-trees had stood in the lawn until a few years -before, and enough of their roots still remained to furnish a host -for the mushrooms. A stump sometimes will be covered with them, cap -over cap, tier crowding tier so closely that no particle of the stump -is seen. This colony life is characteristic. I have more than once -gathered half a peck of edible specimens from a single stump. - -The most inexperienced collector, when brick-top has been pointed out -to him, can hardly take any other mushroom by mistake. It is strange, -however, that this delicious, abundant, and perfectly harmless -species should be so seldom pictured among the edible fungi in works -upon this subject. I have seen it figured only two or three times, -under the names _Hypholoma perplexum_ and _H. sublateritius_, with -the mere mention that it was safe to eat. Yet its season is one of -the longest, and it is so abundant and so widely distributed as to -make the gathering of the more commonly known but really rarer species -quite impractical. - -No one need fear brick-tops. When taken young and clean, if they do -not broil into squab or fry into frogs' legs, they will prove, at any -rate, to be deliciously tender, woodsy sweetmeats, good to eat and a -joy to collect. - -And the collecting of mushrooms is, after all, their real value. Our -stomachs are too much with us. It is well enough to beguile ourselves -with large talk of rare flavors, high per cents. of proteids, and -small butcher's bills; but it is mostly talk. It gives a practical, -businesslike complexion to our interest and excursions; it backs up -our accusing consciences at the silly waste of time with a show of -thrift and economy; but here mushroom economy ends. There is about -as much in it as there is of cheese in the moon. No doubt tons and -tons of this vegetable meat go to waste every day in the woods and -fields, just as the mycologists say; nevertheless, according to my -experience, it is safer and cheaper to board at a first-class hotel -than in the wilderness upon this manna, bounty of the skies though it -be. - -It is the hunt for mushrooms, the introduction through their door -into a new and wondrous room of the out-of-doors, that makes mycology -worthy and moral. The genuine lover of the out-of-doors, having filled -his basket with fungi, always forces his day's gleanings upon the -least resisting member of the party before he reaches home, while -he himself feeds upon the excitement of the hunt, the happy mental -rest, the sunshine of the fields, and the flavor of the woods. After -a spring with the birds and a summer with the flowers, to leave glass -and botany-can at home and go tramping through the autumn after -mushrooms is to catch the most exhilarating breath of the year, is -to walk of a sudden into a wonder-world. With an eye single for -fungi, we see them of every shape and color and in every imaginable -place--under leaves, up trees, in cellars, everywhere we turn. Rings -of oreads dance for us upon the lawns, goblins clamber over the -rotting stumps, and dryads start from the hollow trees to spy as we -pass along. - -Brick-top is in its prime throughout October--when, in the dearth of -other interests, we need it most. By this time there are few of the -birds and flowers left, though the woods are far from destitute of -sound and color. The chickadees were never friendlier; and when, since -last autumn, have so many flocks of goldfinches glittered along our -paths? Some of the late asters and goldenrods are still in bloom, and -here and there a lagging joepye-weed, a hoary head of boneset, and a -brilliant tuft of ironweed show above the stretches of brown. - -October is not the month of flowers, even if it does claim the -witch-hazel for its own. It is the month of mushrooms. There is -something unnatural and uncanny about the witch-hazel, blossoming -with sear leaf and limbs half bare. I never come upon it without a -start. The sedges are dead, the maples leafless, the robins gone, the -muskrats starting their winter lodges; and here, in the yellow -autumn sun, straggles this witch-hazel, naked like the willows and -alders, but spangled thick with yellow blossoms! Blossoms, indeed, but -not flowers. Hydras they look like, from the dying lily-pads, crawling -over the bush to yellow and die with the rest of the dying world. - -[Illustration: Witch-hazel.] - -No natural, well-ordered plant ought to be in flower when its leaves -are falling; but if stumps and dead trees are to blossom, of course -leaf-falling time would seem a proper enough season. And what can we -call it but blossoming, when an old oak-stump, dead and rotten these -ten years, wakes up after a soaking rain, some October morning, a very -mound of delicate, glistening, brick-red mushrooms? It is as great a -wonder and quite as beautiful a mystery as the bursting into flower -of the marsh-marigolds in May. But no deeper mystery, for--"dead," -did I call these stumps? Rotten they may be, but not dead. There is -nothing dead out of doors. There is change and decay in all things; -but if birds and bugs, if mosses and mushrooms, can give life, then -the deadest tree in the woods is the very fullest of life. - - - - -SECOND CROPS - - -[Illustration] - -SECOND CROPS - - -I - -Take it the year round, the deadest trees in the woods are the livest -and fullest of fruit--for the naturalist. Dr. Holmes had a passion -for big trees; the camera-carriers hunt up historic trees; boys with -deep pockets take to fruit-trees: but dead trees, since I developed a -curiosity for dark holes, have yielded me the most and largest crops. - -An ardor for decayed trees is not from any perversity of nature. There -is nothing unreasonable in it, as in--bibliomania, for instance. I -discover a gaunt, punky old pine, bored full of holes, and standing -among acres of green, characterless companions, with the held breath, -the jumping pulse, the bulging eyes of a collector stumbling upon a -Caxton in a latest-publication book-store. But my excitement is really -with some cause; for--sh! look! In that round hole up there, just -under the broken limb, the flame of the red-headed woodpecker--a light -in one of the windows of the woods. Peep through it. What rooms! What -people! No; I never paid ten cents extra for a volume because it was -full of years and mildew and rare errata (I sometimes buy books at a -reduction for these accidents); but I have walked miles, and passed -forests of green, good-looking trees, to wait in the slim shade of -some tottering, limbless old stump. - -Within the reach of my landscape four of these ancient derelicts -hold their stark arms against the horizon, while every wood-path, -pasture-lane, and meadow-road leads past hollow apples, gums, or -chestnuts, where there are sure to be happenings as the seasons come -and go. Sooner or later, every dead tree in the neighborhood finds a -place in my note-book. They are all named and mentioned, some over and -over,--my list of Immortals,--all very dead or very hollow, ranging -from a big sweet-gum in the swamp along the creek to an old pump-tree, -stuck for a post within fifty feet of my window. The gum is the -hollowest, the pump the deadest, tree of the lot. - -The nozle-hole of the one-time pump stares hard at my study window -like the empty socket of a Cyclops. There is a small bird-house nailed -just above the window, which gazes back with its single eye at the -staring pump. For some time one April the sputtering sparrows held -this box above the window against the attacks of two tree-swallows. -The sparrows had been on the ground all winter, and had staked their -claim with a nest that had already outgrown the house when the -swallows arrived. In love of fair play, and remembering more than -one winter day made alive and cheerful by the sparrows, I could not -interfere and oust them, though it grieved me to lose the pretty pair -of swallows as summer neighbors. - -The swallows disappeared. All was quiet for a few days, when, one -morning, I saw the flutter of steel-blue wings at the hole in the -pump, and there, propped hard with his tail over the hole, hung my -tree-swallow. I should have that pair as tenants yet, and in a house -where I could see everything they did. He peered quickly around, then -peeped cautiously into the opening, and slipped out of sight through -the dark, round hole. - -[Illustration: "I knew it suited exactly."] - -I knew it suited exactly by the glad, excited way he came out and -darted off. He soon returned with the little shining wife; and through -a whole week there was a constant passing of blue backs and white -breasts as the joyous pair fitted up the inside of that pump with -grass and feathers fit for the cradle of a fairy queen. - -By the rarest fortune I was on hand when one of the sparrows -discovered what had happened in the pump. There is not a single -microbe of Anglophobia in my system. But need one's love for things -English include this pestiferous sparrow? Anyhow, I feel just a mite -of satisfaction when I recall how that sparrow, with the colonizing -instinct of his race, dropping down upon the pump with the notion -that he "had a duty to the world," dropped off that pump straightway, -concluding that his "duty" did not relate to that particular pump any -longer. The sparrows had built everywhere about the place, but that -that pump--a post, and a post to a pair of bars at that--was worth -settling had not dawned on them. When they saw that the swallows had -taken it, one of them lighted there instantly, with tail up, head -cocked, very much amazed, and commenting vociferously. He looked -into the hole from every possible point, and was about to enter, when -there came a whizz of wings, a flash of blue, and a slap that sent him -spinning. When the indignant swallow swooped back, like a boomerang, -the sparrow had scuttled off to an apple-tree. - -[Illustration: "With tail up, head cocked, very much amazed, and -commenting vociferously."] - -That was a _coup de grâce_. Peace reigned after that; and along in -July the five white eggs had found wings and were skimming about the -fly-filled air or counting and preening themselves demurely in a -solemn row upon the wire fence. - -Between two pastures, easily seen from the same study window, stands a -wild apple-tree, pathetically diseased and rheumatic, which like one -of Mr. Burroughs's trees, never bore very good crops of apples, but -four seasons a year is marvelously full of animals. It is chiefly -noted for a strange collection I once took out of its maw-like cavity. - -It was a keen January morning, and I stopped at the tree, as usual, -and thumped. No lodgers there that day, it seemed. I mounted the rail -fence and looked in. Darkness. No; there at the bottom was a patch of -gray, and--I pulled out a snapping, blinking screech-owl. Down went -my hand again, and a second owl came blinking to the light--this one -in rich brown plumage. When I turned him up, his clenched claws held -fistfuls of possum hair. Once more I pushed my hand down the hole, -gingerly, and up to the shoulder. No mistake. Mr. Possum was in there, -and after a little manoeuvering I seized him by the collar, and out -he came grinning, hissing, and winking at the hard, white winter day. - -And how exactly like a possum! "There is a time for all things," comes -near an incarnation in him. There is a time for eating owls--at night, -of course, if owls can then be had. But day is the time to sleep; and -if owls want to share his bed and roost upon him, all right. He -_will_ sleep on till nightfall, in spite of owls. And he would sleep -on here till dusk, in spite of my rude awakening, if I gave him leave. -I dropped him back to the bottom of the hole, then put the two owls -back upon him, and went my way, knowing I should find the three still -sleeping on my return. And it was so. The owls were just as surprised -and just as sleepy when I disturbed them the second time that day. I -left them to finish their nap. But the possum was served for dinner -the following evening--for this, too, is strictly in accord with his -time-for-all-things philosophy. - -This pair of owls were most persistent in their attachment to the -apple-tree. Several times in the course of the winter I found them -sleeping soundly in this same deep cavity, making their winter -lodgings in the bent, tumble-down shanty which, standing not far from -the woods and between the uplands and meadows, has been home, hotel, -post-office, city of refuge, and lookout for many of the wild folk -about the fields. - -[Illustration: "In a solemn row upon the wire fence."] - -A worn-out, gone-to-holes orchard is a very city of hollows-loving -animals. Not far away is one such orchard with a side bordering an -extensive copse. Where the orchard and copse meet is an apple-tree -that has been the ancestral home of unnumbered generations of -flying-squirrels. The cavity was first hollowed out by flickers. The -squirrels were interlopers. When the young come in April the large -opening is stuffed with shredded chestnut bark, leaving barely room -enough for the parents to squeeze through. The sharpest-eyed hawk -awing would never dream of waiting outside that insignificant door for -a meal of squirrel. - -[Illustration: "Young flying-squirrels."] - -But such precautions are not always proof against boys. I robbed -that home one spring of its entire batch of babies (no one with any -love of wild things could resist the temptation to kidnap young -flying-squirrels), and tried to bring them up in domestic ways. But -somehow I never succeeded with pets. Something always happened. -One of these four squirrels was rocked on, a second was squeezed in -a door, a third fell before he could fly, and the fourth I took to -college with me. He had perfect liberty, for I had no other room-mate. -I set aside one hour a day to putting corks, pens, photographs, and -knives back in their places, for him to tuck away the next day in one -of my shoes or under my pillow. More than once I have awakened to find -him curled up in my neck or up my sleeve, the dearest little bedfellow -alive. But it was three stories from my window to the street; and one -day he tried his wings. They were not equal to the flight. Since then -I have left my wild pets in the woods. - -If one wants to know what birds are about, especially the larger, -more cautious species, let him get under cover near a tall dead oak -or walnut, standing alone in the middle of open fields. Such a tree -is the natural rest and lookout for every passer. Here come the hawks -to wait and watch; here the sentinel crows are posted while the flock -pilfers corn and plugs melons; here the flickers and woodpeckers -light for a quick lunch of grubs, to call for company or telegraph -across the fields on one of the resonant limbs; here the flocking -blackbirds swoop and settle, making the old tree look as if it had -suddenly leaved out in mourning--leaves black and crackling; and here -the turkey-buzzards halt heavily in their gruesomely glorious flight. - -With good field-glasses there is no other vantage-ground for bird -study equal to this. Not in a day's tramp will one see so many birds, -and have such chances to observe them, as in a single hour, when the -sun is rising or setting, in the neighborhood of some great, gaunt -tree that has died of years or lonesomeness, or been smitten by a bolt -from the summer clouds. - -[Illustration: "The sentinel crows are posted."] - - -II - -Nature's prodigality and parsimony are extremes farther apart than -her east and west. Why should she be so lavish of interstellar space, -and crowd a drop of stagnant water so? Why give the wide sea surface -to the petrels, and screw the sea-urchins into the rocks on Grand -Manan? Why scatter in Delaware Bay a million sturgeon eggs for every -one hatched, while each mite of a paramecium is cut in two, and wholes -made of the halves? Why leave an entire forest of green, live pines -for a lonesome crow hermitage, and convert the rottenest old stump -into a submerged-tenth tenement? - -Part of the answer, at least, is found in nature's hatred and horror -of death. She fiercely refuses to have any dead. An empty heaven, -a lifeless sea, an uninhabited rock, a dead drop of water, a dying -paramecium, are intolerable and impossible. She hastens always to give -them life. The succession of strange dwellers to the decaying trees -is an instance of her universal and endless effort at making matter -live. - -Such vigilance over the ever-dying is very comforting--and marvelous -too. Let any indifferent apple-tree begin to have holes, and the -tree-toads, the bluebirds, and the red squirrels move in, to fill the -empty trunk with new life and the sapless limbs with fresh fruit. -Let any tall, stray oak along the river start to die at the top, and -straightway a pair of fish-hawks will load new life upon it. And these -other, engrafted lives, like the graft of a greening upon wild wood, -yield crops more valuable often, and always more interesting, than -come from the native stock. - -Perhaps there is no more useless fruit or timber grown than that of -the swamp-gums (_Nyssa uniflora_) of the Jersey bottoms. But if we -value trees according to their capacity for cavities,--the naturalist -has a right to such a scale of valuation,--then these gums rank -first. The deliberate purpose of a swamp-gum, through its hundred -years of life, is to grow as big as possible, that it may hollow out -accordingly. They are the natural home-makers of the swamps that -border the rivers and creeks in southern New Jersey. What would the -coons, the turkey-buzzards, and the owls do without them? The wild -bees believe the gums are especially built for them. No white-painted -hive, with its disappearing squares, offers half as much safety to -these free-booters of the summer seas as the gums, open-hearted, -thick-walled, and impregnable. - -When these trees alone make up the swamp, there is a roomy, empty, -echo-y effect among the great gray boles, with their high, horizontal -limbs spanned like rafters above, produced by no other trees I know. -It is worth a trip across the continent to listen, under a clear -autumn moon, to the cry of a coon-dog far away in the empty halls of -such a swamp. To get the true effect of a barred owl's hooting, one -wants to find the home of a pair in an ancient gum-swamp. I know such -a home, along Cohansey Creek, where, the neighboring farmer tells me, -he has heard the owls hoot in spring and autumn since he remembers -hearing anything. - -I cannot reach around the butt of the tree that holds the nest. -Tapering just a trifle and a little on the lean, it runs up smooth -and round for twenty feet, where a big bulge occurs, just above which -is the capacious opening to the owls' cave. There was design in -the bulge, or foresight in the owls' choice; for that excrescence is -the hardest thing to get beyond I ever climbed up to. But it must be -mounted, or the queerest pair of little dragons ever hatched will go -unseen. - -The owls themselves first guided me to the spot. I was picking my way -through this piece of woods, one April day, when a shadowy something -swung from one high limb to another overhead, following me. It was -the female owl. Every time she lighted she turned and fixed her big -black eyes hard on me, silent, somber, and watchful. As I pushed -deeper among the gums, she began to snap her beak and drop closer. -Her excitement grew every moment. I looked about for the likely tree. -The instant I spied the hole above the bulge, the owl caught the -direction of my eyes, and made a swoop at me that I thought meant -total blindness. - -I began to climb. With this the bird lapsed into the quiet of despair, -perched almost in reach of me, and began to hoot mournfully: _Woo-hoo, -woo-hoo, woo-hoo, oo-oo-a!_ And faint and far away came back a timid -_Woo-hoo, woo-a!_ from her mate, safely hid across the creek. - -[Illustration: "She turned and fixed her big black eyes hard on me."] - -The weird, uncanny cry rolled round under the roof of limbs, and -seemed to wake a ghost-owl in every hollow bole, echoing and reëchoing -as it called from tree to tree, to die away down the dim, deep vistas -of the swamp. The silent wings, the snapping beaks, the eery hoots -in the soft gloom of the great trees, needed the help of but little -imagination to carry one back to the threshold of an unhacked world, -and embolden its nymphs and satyrs, that these centuries of science -have hunted into hiding. - -I wiggled above the bulge at the risk of life, and was greeted at the -mouth of the cavern with hisses and beak-snappings from within. It -was a raw spring day; snow still lingered in shady spots. But here, -backed against the farther wall of the cavity, were two young owls, -scarcely a week old, wrapped up like little Eskimos--tiny bundles of -down that the whitest-toothed frost could never bite through. - -[Illustration: "Wrapped up like little Eskimos."] - -Very green babies of all kinds are queer, uncertain, indescribable -creations-faith generators. But the greenest, homeliest, unlikeliest, -babiest babes I ever encountered were these two in the hole. I wish -Walt Whitman had seen them. He would have written a poem. They defy -my powers of portrayal, for they challenge the whole mob of my normal -instincts. - -But quite as astonishing as the appearance of the young owls was the -presence beneath their feet of the head of a half-grown muskrat, the -hind quarters of two frogs, one large meadow-vole, and parts of four -mice, with many other pieces too small to identify. These all were -fresh--the _crumbs_ of one night's dinner, the leavings of _one_ -night's catch. If these were the fragments only, what would be a -conservative estimate of the night's entire catch? - -Gilbert White tells of a pair of owls that built under the eaves -of Selborne Church, that he "minuted" with his "watch for an hour -together," and found that they returned to the nest, the one or the -other, "about once in every five minutes" with a mouse or some little -beast for the young. Twelve mice an hour! Suppose they hunted only two -evening hours a day? The record at the summer's end is almost beyond -belief. - -Not counting what the two old owls ate, and leaving out of the count -the two frogs, it is within limits to reckon not less than six small -animals brought to the hollow gum every night of the three weeks that -these young owls were dependent for food--a riddance in this short -time of not less than one hundred and twenty-five muskrats, mice, -and voles. What four boys in the same time could clear the meadows -of half that number? And these animals are all harmful, the muskrats -exceedingly so, where the meadows are made by dikes and embankments. - -Not a tree in South Jersey that spring bore a more profitable crop. -When fruit-growing in Jersey is done for pleasure, the altruistic -farmer with a love for natural history will find large reward in his -orchards of gums, that now are only swamps. - -Just as useful as the crop of owls, and beyond all calculation in -its sweetening effects upon our village life, is the annual yield -of swallows by the piles in the river. Years ago a high spring tide -carried away the south wing of the old bridge, but left the piles, -green and grown over with moss, standing with their heads just above -flood-tide mark. In the tops of the piles are holes, bored to pass -lines through, or left by rusted bolts, and eaten wide by waves and -wind. Besides these there are a few genuine excavations made by -erratic woodpeckers. This whole clump of water-logged piles has been -colonized by blue-backed tree-swallows, every crack and cranny wide -enough and deep enough to hold a nest being appropriated for domestic -uses by a pair of the dainty people. It is no longer a sorry forest -of battered, sunken stumps; it is a swallow-Venice. And no gayer -gondoliers ever glided over wave-paved streets than these swallows on -the river. When the days are longest the village does its whittling on -the new bridge in the midst of this twittering bird life, watching the -swallows in the sunset skim and flash among the rotting timbers over -the golden-flowing tide. - -[Illustration: "It is no longer a sorry forest of battered, sunken -stumps."] - -If I turn from the river toward the woods again, I find that the -fences all the way are green with vines and a-hum with bumblebees. -Even the finger-board at the cross-roads is a living pillar of ivy. -All is life. There are no dead, no graveyards anywhere. A nature-made -cemetery does not exist in my locality. Yonder, where the forest-fire -came down and drank of the river, is a stretch of charred stumps; -but every one is alive with some sort of a tenant. Not one of these -stumps is a tombstone. We have graves and slabs and names in our -burial-place, and nothing more. But there is not so much as a slab -in the fields and woods. When the telegraph-poles and the piles are -cut, the stumps are immediately prepared for new life, and soon begin -blossoming into successive beds of mosses and mushrooms, while the -birds are directed to follow the bare poles and make them live again. - -A double line of these pole-specters stretches along the road in front -of my door, holding hands around the world. I have grown accustomed -to the hum of the wires, and no longer notice the sound. But one May -morning recently there was a new note in the pole just outside the -yard. I laid my ear to the wood. _Pick--pick--pick_; then all was -still. Again, after a moment's pause, I heard _pick--pick--pick_ on -the inside. At my feet was a scattering of tiny yellow chips. Backing -off a little, I discovered the hole, about the size of my fist, -away up near the cross-bars. It was not the first time I had found -High-hole laying claim to the property of the telegraph companies. -I stole back and thumped. Instantly a dangerous bill and a flashing -eye appeared, and High-hole, with his miner's lamp burning red in -the top of his cap lunged off across the fields in some ill humor, no -doubt. - -[Illustration: "Even the finger-board is a living pillar of ivy."] - -Throughout the summer there was telegraphing with and without wires -on that dry, resonant pole. And meantime, if there was anything -unintelligible in the ciphers at Glasgow or Washington, it was -high-hole talk. For there was reared inside that pole as large, as -noisy, and as red-headed a family of flickers as ever hatched. What a -brood they were! They must have snarled the wires and Babelized their -talk terribly. - -While this robust and uncultured family of flickers were growing up, -only three doors away (counting by poles) a modest and soft-voiced -pair of bluebirds, with a decently numbered family of four, were -living in a hole so near the ground that I could look in upon the meek -but brave little mother. - -There is still another dead-tree crop that the average bird-lover and -summer naturalist rarely gathers--I mean the white-footed mice. They -are the jolliest little beasts in all the tree hollows. It is when the -woods are bare and deep with snow, when the cold, dead winter makes -outside living impossible, that one really appreciates the coziness -and protection of the life in these deep rooms, sunk like wells into -the hearts of the trees. With what unconcern the mice await nightfall -and the coming of the storms! They can know nothing of the anxiety -and dread of the crows; they can share little of the crows' suffering -in the bitter nights of winter. A warm, safe bed is a large item in -out-of-doors living when it is cold; and I have seen where these mice -tuck themselves away from the dark and storm in beds so snug and warm -that I wished to be an elf myself, with white feet and a long tail, -to creep in with them. - -I had some wood-choppers near the house on the lookout for mice, but, -though they often marked the stumps where they had cut into nests, the -winter nearly passed before I secured a single white-foot. Coming up -from the pond one day with a clerical friend, after a vain attempt to -skate, we lost our way in the knee-deep snow, and while floundering -about happened upon a large dead pine that was new to me. It was as -stark, as naked, and as dead a tree, apparently, as ever went to -dust. The limbs were broken off a foot or more from the trunk, and -stuck out like stumps of arms; the top had been drilled through and -through by woodpeckers, and now lay several feet away, buried in the -snow; and the bole, like the limbs, was without a shred of bark, but -covered instead with a thin coating of slime. This slime was marked -with fine scratches, as would be made by the nails of very small -animals. I almost rudely interrupted my learned friend's discussion of -the documentary hypothesis with the irreverent exclamation that there -were mice in the old corpse. The Hebrew scholar stared at the tree. -Then he stared at me. Had I gone daft so suddenly? But I was dropping -off my overcoat and ordering him away to borrow the ax of a man we -heard chopping. He looked utterly undone, but thought it best to humor -me, though I know he dreaded putting an ax in my hands just then, -and would infinitely rather have substituted his skates. I insisted, -however, and he disappeared for the ax. - -The snow was deep, the pine was punky and would easily fall; and now -was the chance to get my mice. They were in there, I knew, for those -fine, fresh scratches told of scramblers gone up to the woodpecker -holes since the last storm. - -The preacher appeared with the ax. Off came his coat. He was as -eager now as though this tottering pine were an altar of Baal. He -was anxious, also, to know if I had an extra sense--a kind of X-ray -organ that saw mice at the centers of trees. And, priest though he was -(shame on the human animal!), he had grown excited at the prospect of -the chase of--mice! - -I tramped away the snow about the tree. The ax was swinging swiftly -through the air; the preacher was repeating between strokes: -"_I'm--truly--sorry--man's--dominion--has--_" when suddenly there -was a crunch, a crash, and the axman leaped aside with the yell of a -fiend; for, as the tree struck, three tiny, brown-backed, white-footed -creatures were dashed into the soft snow. "The prettiest thing I ever -saw," he declared enthusiastically, as I put into his hand the only -mouse captured. - -We traced the chambers up and down the tree as they wound, -stairway-like, just inside the hard outer shell. Here and there we -came upon garners of acorns and bunches of bird feathers and shredded -bark--a complete fortress against the siege of winter. - -That pine had not borne a green needle for a decade. It was too long -dead and too much decayed to have even a fat knot left. Yet there was -not a livelier, more interesting tree in the region that winter, nor -one half so full of goings on, as this same old shell of a pine, with -scarcely heart enough to stand. - - - - -WOOD-PUSSIES - - -[Illustration] - -WOOD-PUSSIES - - -One real source of the joy in out-of-door study lies in its off-time -character. A serious, bread-winning study of birds must be a -lamentable vocation; it comes to measuring egg-shells merely, and -stuffing skins. To get its real tonic, nature study must not be -carried on with Walden Pond laboriousness, nor with the unrelieved -persistence of a five years aboard a _Beagle_. Darwin staggered under -the burden of his observations; and Thoreau says: "I would not have -any one adopt _my_ mode of living; for before he has fairly learned it -I may have found out another for myself"--and so he did. - -No; the joy in wild things is the joy of being wild with -them--vacation joy. Think of being forced to gather ants and watch -spiders for a living! It would be quite as bad as making poetry or -prophecy one's profession. From the day Mohammed formally adopts -Koran-making as a business, he begins to lose his spontaneity and -originality, and grows prosy and artificial, even plagiaristic. -Nature shuns the professional. She makes her happiest visits as short -surprises, delightful interruptions and diversions in the thick of our -earnest business. - -You can take no vacation in the mountains? Then snatch a few minutes -before the seven-o'clock whistle blows, or while you hoe, or between -office-hours, to look and listen. The glimpses of wild life caught -at such times will be flashes of revelation. It may be the instant -picture of a gray fox leaping at a buzzard from behind a bush as the -train drives across the wide, blank prairies of southern Kansas; -or a warm time with wasps while mowing in New Jersey; or the chirp -of sparrows in passing King's Chapel Burial-ground when a cold -winter twilight is settling over Boston; or the chance meeting of a -wood-pussy on your way home from singing-school in Maine. Whatever -the picture, and wherever obtained, coming in this unexpected way, it -is sure to be more lasting, meaningful, and happy than volumes of the -kind gathered after long days of tramping with gun and glass. - -Any one can acquaint himself with the out-of-doors, if he keeps his -eyes and ears open and lives a little while, should his lines happen -to fall even in a city. Most cities have parks, or a river, or a -zoölogical garden. A zoölogical garden is not to be despised by the -naturalist. About ninety-nine hundredths of every wild animal remains -wild in spite of iron bars and peanuts and visitors. - -There is one little creature, however, that you must live at least on -the edge of the country to know, for I never saw a zoölogical garden -that had a pit or cage for him. Yet he is not a blood-thirsty nor a -venomous beast; in fact, he is as harmless as a rabbit and every whit -as interesting as a prairie-dog. Nevertheless it is of no use to look -for him in the city. You must go out to the outskirts, to the farms -and pastures, if you would meet the wood-pussy. And even here you must -not look for _him_, but go to church or visit the neighbors after dark -and let the wood-pussy look for you. It will be altogether a rare and -interesting experience, an encounter to remember. - -But what is a wood-pussy? That is the question I asked myself the -first night I spent in Maine. I had occasion to go down the road that -night, and as my hostess handed me the lantern she said warningly, -"Look out for the wood-pussies on the way." From what I was able to -put together that night I was sure that "wood-pussy" was a very pretty -down-east name for what, in New Jersey, I had always called a skunk. - -I have had about a dozen unsought meetings with this greatly dreaded, -seldom-named, but much-talked-of creature. Most of them are moonlight -scenes--pictures of dimly lighted, shadow-flecked paths, with a -something larger than a cat in them, standing stock-still or moving -leisurely toward me, silvered now with pale light, now uncertain and -monstrous where the shadows lie deepest. With these memories always -come certain strange sensations of scalp-risings, chill feelings of -danger, of wild adventure, and of hair-breadth escape. - -I have never met a skunk at night that did not demand (and receive) -the whole path, even when that path was the State highway. Dispute the -authority of a skunk? No more than I should the best-known ranger's -in Texas when requested to hold up my hands. The skunk is the only -animal left in the East that you will not parley with. Try to stare -the Great Stone Face out of countenance if you wish, but when a skunk -begins to sidle toward you, do not try to stare him out of the path; -just sidle in the direction he sidles, and sidle as fast as you can. - -Late one afternoon I was reading by the side of a little ravine on -one of the islands in Casco Bay. The sharp, rocky walls of the cut -were shaded by scrub-pines and draped with dewberry-vines. Presently -the monotonous slop of the surf along the shore, growing fainter as -the tide ebbed, was broken by a stir in the dry leaves at the bottom -of the ravine. I listened. Something was moving below me. Creeping -cautiously to the edge, I looked down, and there, in a narrow yard -between two boulders, not ten feet beneath me, was a family of seven -young skunks. - -They were about three weeks old,--"kittens," the natives called -them,--and seemed to be playing some kind of a rough-and-tumble game -together. Funny little bunches of black and white they were, with -pointed noses, beady black eyes, and very grand tails. They were -jet-black, except for white tips to their tails and a pure white mark -beginning on the top of their heads and dividing down their sides like -the letter V. - -[Illustration: "A family of seven young skunks."] - -My presence was unsuspected and their play went on. It was a sight -worth the rest of the vacation. When you find wild animals so far off -their guard as to play, do as Captain Cuttle suggests--"make a note of -it." It is a red-letter experience. - -I doubt if there is another set of children in all the out-of-doors -so apparently incapable of playing as a set of young skunks. You -have watched lambs stub and wabble about in their gambols, clumsy -and unsafe upon their legs because there was so little body to -hold down so much legs. These young skunks were clumsier than the -wabbliest-legged lambkin that you ever saw, and for just the opposite -reason--there was so little legs to hold up so much body. Such -humpty-dumpty babies! They fell over each other, over the stones, and -over their paws as if paws were made only to be tumbled over. Their -surest, quickest way of getting anywhere was to upset and roll to it. - -It was a silent playground, as all animal playgrounds are. The stir of -the dead leaves and now and then a faint hiss was all I could hear. -Who has ever heard any noise from untamed animals at play? One day I -came softly upon two white-footed mice playing in the leaves along -a wood-road and squeaking joyously; but as a rule the children of -the wilds, no matter how exciting their games, rarely utter a word. -Silence is the first lesson they are taught. Or is it now instinctive? -Have not generations of bitter life-struggle made the animals so timid -and wary that the young are born with a dread of discovery so strong -that they never shout in their play? This softness and silence was the -only striking difference to be seen in the play of these young skunks -here in the falling twilight, safely hidden among the rocks of the -wild ravine, and that of school-children upon a village green. - -The child is much the same, whether the particular species is -four-footed or whether it goes on two feet. Here below me one of the -little toddlers got a bump that hurt him, and it made him just as mad -as a bump ever did me. There was a fuss in a twinkling. He stamped -with both fore feet, showed his teeth, humped his back, and turned -both ends of his tiny body, like a pinched wasp, toward every one -that came near him. The others knew what that particular twist meant -and kept their distance. I knew the import of that movement, too. -These young things had already learned their lesson of self-defense. -I believe that a three-weeks-old skunk could hold his own against the -world. - -The dusk was deepening rapidly in the ravine; and I was just about -to shout to see how they would take it, when a long black snout was -thrust slowly out from beneath a piece of the ledge, and the mother of -the young skunks appeared. Without giving them a look, she crawled off -around a rock. The family followed; and here they all fell to eating -something--what, I could not see. I tried to scare them away, but at -my commands they only switched their tails and doubled into defensive -attitudes. Finally with some stones I drove them, like so many huge -crabs, into the den, and--horrors! they were eating one of their own -kin, a full-grown skunk, the father of their family, for all they -knew or cared, that had been killed the night before in one of the -islander's chicken-coops. - -The skunk is no epicure. The matter of eating one's husband or wife, -one's father or mother, has never struck the skunk as out of the -ordinary. As far as my observation goes, the supreme question with -him is, Can this thing be swallowed? Such thoughts as, What is it? -How does it taste? Will it digest? Is it good form?--no skunk since -the line began ever allowed to interfere with his dinner. An enviable -disregard, this of dietetics! To eat everything with a relish! If the -testimony of Maine farmers can be credited, this animal is absolutely -omnivorous. During the winter the skunks burrow and sleep, several of -them in the same hole. When they go in they are as fat as September -woodchucks; but long before spring, the farmers tell me, the skunks -grow so lean and hungry that, turning cannibal, they fall upon their -weaker comrades and devour them, only the strongest surviving until -the spring. - -[Illustration: "The family followed."] - -In August, along the Kennebec, I found the skunks attacking the sugar -corn. They strip the ears that hang close to the ground, and gnaw -the milky grain. But they do most damage among the chickens. For -downright destructiveness, a knowing old skunk, with a nice taste for -pullets and a thorough acquaintance with the barn-yard, discounts even -Reynard. Reynard is the reputed arch-enemy of poultry, yet there is -a good deal of the sportsman about him; he has some sort of honor, a -sense of the decency of the game. The skunk, on the contrary, is a -poacher, a slaughterer for the mere sake of it. My host, in a single -night, had fourteen hens killed by a skunk that dug under the coop and -deliberately bit them through the neck. He is not so cunning nor so -swift as the fox, but the skunk is no stupid. He is cool and calm and -bold. He will advance upon and capture a hen-house, and be off to his -den, while a fox is still studying his map of the farm. - -Yet, like every other predatory creature, the skunk more than balances -his debt for corn and chickens by his credit for the destruction of -obnoxious vermin. He feeds upon insects and mice, destroying great -numbers of the latter by digging out the nests and eating the young. -But we forget our debt when the chickens disappear, no matter how -few we lose. Shall we ever learn to say, when the redtail swoops among -the pigeons, when the rabbits get into the cabbage, when the robins -rifle the cherry-trees, and when a skunk helps himself to a hen for -his Thanksgiving dinner--shall we ever learn to love and understand -the fitness of things out of doors enough to say, - - But then, poor beastie, thou maun live? - -The skunk is a famous digger. There are gigantic stories in Maine, -telling how he has been seen to escape the hound by digging himself -out of sight in the middle of an open field. I have never tried to -run down a skunk, and so never gave one the opportunity of showing -me all he is capable of as a lightning excavator; but, unless all my -experience is wrong, a skunk would rather fight or run or even die -than exert himself to the extent of digging a home. In the majority of -cases their lairs are made by other paws than their own. - -One of the skunk's common tricks is to take up his abode with a -woodchuck. As woodchucks, without exception, are decent sort of -folk, they naturally object; but the unwelcome visitor, like Tar -Baby, says nothing; simply gives his host the privilege of remaining -in his own house if he chooses. He chooses to go, of course, and the -easy-minded interloper settles down comfortably at home. But it is not -long before a second wanderer chances upon this hole, and, without -thanks or leave, shares the burrow with the first. This often goes on -until the den is crowded--until some farmer's boy digs out a round -half-dozen. - -From such a lair as headquarters the skunks forage at night, each -making off alone to a favorite haunt, and returning before daybreak -for safety and sleep. But a peculiar thing about these lodges, as -about the family den in the ravine, is their freedom from the hateful -musk. One rarely detects any odor about a skunk's burrow. I had been -within twenty feet of this one on the island most of the afternoon -and had not known it. How are a number of skunks living in a single -burrow for weeks able to keep it sweet, when one of them, by simply -passing through a ten-acre field of blossoming clover, will make it -unendurable? It certainly speaks well for the creature's personal -cleanliness, or else is proof of his extreme caution against discovery. - -The odor will easily carry with the wind three miles. On the spot -where the animal has been shot, you will remember it a twelvemonth -after whenever it rains. "Do you want to know how to shoot a skunk on -your kitchen steps and never know it twenty-four hours after?" queried -my Kennebec authority on these beasts. I did, of course, though I -never expected a skunk to take up his stand on my kitchen steps and -compel me to despatch him. - -"Well, shoot him dead, of course; then let him lie there three days. -All that smell will come back to him, no matter how far off it's gone. -It'll all come up out of the boards, too, and go into him, and you can -carry him away by the tail and never know a skunk's been on the farm. -It's curious how a skunk can make a smell, but never have any; and -it's curious how it all returns to him when he dies. Most things are -curious, ain't they?" I agreed that they were. - -But to return to my family in the ravine. The next morning I went -back to the glen and caught three of these young ones. They made -no resistance,--merely warned me to be careful,--and I took them to -the house. For several days I fed them fish and fruit until they -became so tame that I could handle them without caution. But they -were hopelessly dull and uninteresting pets, never showing the least -intelligence, curiosity, or affection. I finally turned them loose -among their native rocks, and they strayed off as unconcerned as if -they had not spent two weeks away from home, shut up in a soap-box. - -There seems to be little excuse, in this broad land of opportunity, -for any one's going into skunk-farming for a business; but these -animals have a good market value, and so, in spite of a big country -and rich resources, our hands are so eager for gold that every summer -we hear of new skunk farms. Still, why not raise skunks? They are more -easily kept than pigs or pigeons; they multiply rapidly; their pelts -make good (?) marten-skins; and I see no reason why any one having a -piece of woodland with a stream in it, and a prairie or an ocean on -each side of it, could not fence it in, stock it with skunks, and do a -profitable and withal an interesting business. - - - - -FROM RIVER-OOZE TO TREE-TOP - - -[Illustration] - -FROM RIVER-OOZE TO TREE-TOP - - -There are many lovers of the out-of-doors who court her in her robes -of roses and in her blithe and happy hours of bird-song only. Now a -lover that never sees her barefoot in the meadow, that never hears -her commonplace chatter at the frog-pond, that never finds her in her -lowly, humdrum life among the toads and snakes, has little genuine -love for his mistress. - -To know the pixy when one sees it, to call the long Latin name of the -ragweed, to exclaim over the bobolink's song, to go into ecstasies at -a glorious sunset, is not, necessarily, to love nature at all. One who -does all this sincerely, but who stuffs his ears to the din of the -spring frogs, is in love with nature's pretty clothes, her dainty airs -and fine ways. Her warm, true heart lies deeper down. When one has -gone down to that, then a March without peepers will be as lonesome -as a crowd without friends; then an orchard without the weather-wise -hyla can never make good his place with mere apples; and the front -door without a solemn, philosophic toad beneath its step will lack -something quite as needful to its evening peace and homeness as it -lacks when the old-fashioned roses and the honeysuckle are gone. - -We are not humble nor thoughtful out of doors. There is too much -sentiment in our passion for nature. We make colored plates and poems -to her. All honor to the poets! especially to those who look carefully -and see deeply, like Wordsworth and Emerson and Whitman. But what -the common run of us needs, when we go a-wooing nature, is not more -poetry, but a scientific course in biology. How a little study in -comparative anatomy, for instance, would reveal to us the fearful and -wonderful in the make-up of all animal forms! And the fearful and -wonderful have a meaning and a beauty which we ought to realize. - -We all respond to the flowers and birds, for they demand no mental -effort. What about the snakes and frogs? Do we shiver at them? Do -we more than barely endure them? No one can help feeling the comfort -and sympathy of the bluebird. The very drifts soften as he appears. -He comes some March morning in a flurry of snow, or drops down out of -a cheerless, soaking sky, and assures us that he has just left the -South and has hurried ahead at considerable hazard to tell us that -spring is on the way. Yet, here is another voice, earlier than the -bluebird's often, with the bluebird's message, and with even more than -the bluebird's authority; but who will listen to a frog? A prophet is -not without honor save in his own country. One must needs have wings -and come from a foreign land to be received among us as a prophet of -the spring. Suppose a little frog noses his way up through the stiff, -cold mud, bumps against the ice, and pipes, _Spring! spring! spring!_ -Has he not as much claim upon our faith as a bird that drops down from -no one knows where, with the same message? The bluebird comes because -he has seen the spring; Hyla comes because he has the spring in his -heart. He that receives Hyla in the name of a prophet shall receive a -prophet's reward. - -[Illustration: "'Spring! spring! spring!'"] - -For me there is no clearer call in all the year than that of the -hylas' in the break-up days of March. The sap begins to start in my -roots at the first peep. There is something in their brave little -summons, as there is in the silvery light on the pussy-willows, that -takes hold on my hope and courage, and makes the March mud good to -tramp through. And this despite the fact that these early hylas so -aggravated my first attack of homesickness that I thought it was to be -fatal. The second night I ever spent away from home and my mother was -passed with old Mrs. Tribbet, who had a large orchard, behind which -was a frog-pond. In vain did she stay me with raisins and comfort me -with apples. I was sick for home. And those frogs! When the guineas -got quiet, how dreadful they made the long May twilight with their -shrieking, strangling, homesick cries! After all these years I cannot -listen to them in the evenings of early spring without catching an -echo from the back of that orchard, without just a throb of that pain -so near to breaking my heart. - -Close by, in a corner lot between the two cross-roads of the village, -lies a wretched little puddle, the home of countless hylas until the -June suns dry it up. Among the hundred or more people who live in the -vicinity and who pass the pond almost daily, I think that I am the -only one who, until recently, was sure he had ever seen a peeper, and -knew that they were neither tadpoles, salamanders, nor turtles. As I -was standing by the puddle, one May day, a good neighbor came along -and stopped with me. The chorus was in full blast--cricket-frogs, -Pickering's frogs, spring frogs, and, leading them all, the melancholy -quaver of Bufo, the "hop-toad." - -"What is it that makes the _dreadful_ noise?" my neighbor asked, -meaning, I knew, by "dreadful noise," the song of the toad. I handed -her my opera-glass, pointed out the minstrel with the doleful bagpipe -sprawling at the surface of the water, and, after sixty years of -wondering, she saw with immense satisfaction that one part in this -familiar spring medley was taken by the common toad. - -Sixty springs are a good many springs to be finding out the author -of so well-known a sound as this woeful strain of the serenading -toad; but more than half a century might be spent in catching a -cricket-frog at his song. I tried to make my neighbor see one that was -clinging to a stick in the middle of the puddle; but her eyes were -dim. Deft hands have dressed these peepers. We have heard them by the -meadowful every spring of our life, and yet the fingers of one hand -number more than the peepers we have seen. One day I bent over three -lily-pads till nearly blind, trying to make out a cricket-frog that -was piping all the while somewhere near or upon them. At last, in -despair, I made a dash at the pads, only to see the wake as the peeper -sank to the bottom an instant before my net struck the surface. - -[Illustration: "A wretched little puddle."] - -The entire frog family is as protectively colored as this least -member, the cricket-frog. They all carry fern-seed in their pockets -and go invisible. Notice the wood-frog with his tan suit and black -cheeks. He is a mere sound as he hops about over the brown leaves. I -have had him jump out of the way of my feet and vanish while I stared -hard at him. He lands with legs extended, purposely simulating the -shape of the ragged, broken leaves, and offers, as the only clue for -one's baffled eyes, the moist glisten as his body dissolves against -the dead brown of the leaf-carpet. The tree-toad, _Hyla versicolor_, -still more strikingly blends with his surroundings, for, to a certain -extent, he can change color to match the bark upon which he sits. -More than once, in climbing apple-trees, I have put my hand upon a -tree-toad, not distinguishing it from the patches of gray-green lichen -upon the limbs. But there is less of wonder in the tree-toad's -ability to change his colors than in the way he has of changing his -clothes. He is never troubled with the getting of a new suit; his -labor comes in caring for his old ones. It is curious how he disposes -of his cast-off clothes. - -One day late in autumn I picked up a tree-toad that was stiff and -nearly dead with cold. I put him in a wide-mouthed bottle to thaw, -and found by evening that he was quite alive, sitting with his toes -turned in, looking much surprised at his new quarters. He made himself -at home, however, and settled down comfortably, ready for what might -happen next. - -The following day he climbed up the side of the bottle and slept -several hours, his tiny disked toes holding him as easily and -restfully as if he were stretched upon a feather-bed. I turned him -upside down; but he knew nothing of it until later when he awoke; then -he deliberately turned round with his head up and went to sleep again. -At night he was wide awake, winking and blinking at the lamp, and -watching me through his window of green glass. - -[Illustration] - -A few nights after his rescue Hyla sat upon the bottom of his bottle -in a very queer attitude. His eyes were drawn in, his head was bent -down, his feet rolled up--his whole body huddled into a ball less -than half its normal size. After a time he began to kick and gasp as -if in pain, rolling and unrolling himself desperately. I thought he -was dying. He would double up into a bunch, then kick out suddenly -and stand up on his hind legs with his mouth wide open as if trying -to swallow something. He _was_ trying to swallow something, and the -thing had stuck on the way. It was a kind of cord, and ran out of -each corner of his mouth, passing over his front legs, thinning and -disappearing most strangely along his sides. - -With the next gulp I saw the cord slip down a little, and, as it did -so, the skin along his sides rolled up. It was his old suit! He was -taking it off for a new one; and, instead of giving it to the poor, -he was trying to economize by eating it. What a meal! What a way to -undress! What curious economy! - -Long ago the naturalists told us that the toads ate their skins--after -shedding them; but it was never made plain to me that they ate -them _while_ changing them--indeed, _swallowed_ them off! Three -great gulps more and the suit--shirt, shoes, stockings, and -all--disappeared. Then Hyla winked, drew his clean sleeve across his -mouth, and settled back with the very air of one who has magnificently -sent away the waiter with the change. - -[Illustration: "He _was_ trying to swallow something."] - -Four days later Hyla ate up this new suit. I saw the entire operation -this time. It was almost a case of surgery. He pulled the skin over -his head and neck with his fore feet as if it were a shirt, then -crammed it into his mouth; kicked it over his back next; worked out -his feet and legs; then ate it off as before. The act was accomplished -with difficulty, and would have been quite impossible had not Hyla -found the most extraordinary of tongues in his head. Next to the -ability to speak Russian with the tongue comes the power to skin one's -self with it. The tree-toad cannot quite croak Russian, but he can -skin himself with his tongue. Unlike ours, his tongue is hung at the -front end, with the free end forked and pointing toward his stomach. -When my little captive had crammed his mouth full of skin, he stuck -this fork of a tongue into it and forced it down his throat and held -it down while he kicked and squirmed out of it. - -Though less beautifully clothed than Hyla, our common toad, Bufo, is -just as carefully clothed. Where the rain drips from the eaves, clean, -narrow lines of pebbles have been washed out of the lawn. On one side -of the house the shade lies all day long and the grass is cool and -damp. Here, in the shade, a large toad has lived for two summers. I -rarely pass that way without seeing him, well hidden in the grass. For -several days lately he had been missing, when, searching more closely -one morning, I found him sunk to the level of his back in the line of -pebbles, his spots and the glands upon his neck so mingling with the -varied collection of gravel about him that only a practised eye, and -that sharp with expectation, could have made him out. - -In a newly plowed field, with some of the fresh soil sticking to him, -what thing could look more like a clod than this brown, shapeless lump -of a toad? But there is a beauty even in this unlovely form; for here -is perfect adaptability. - -Our canons of the beautiful are false if they do not in some way -include the toad. Shall we measure all the out-of-doors by the -linnet's song, the cardinal-flower's flame, and the hay-field's odor? -Deeper, wider, more fundamental and abiding than these standards, lie -the intellectual principles of plan and purpose and the intellectual -quality of perfect execution. We shall love not alone with all our -heart, but with all our mind as well. If we judge the world beautiful -by the superficial standard of what happens to please our eye, we -shall see no more of the world than we do of the new moon. Whole -classes of animals and wide regions of the earth's surface must, by -this test, be excluded. The only way the batrachians could possibly -come in would be by rolling the frogs in bread-crumbs and frying them. -Treated thus, they look good and taste good, but this is all that -can be said for the entire family. Studied, however, from the single -view-point of protective coloring, or again, as illustrating the ease -with which the clumsiest forms can be fitted to the widest variety -of conditions, the toads do not suffer by any comparison. In the -light of such study, Bufo loses his repulsiveness and comes to have a -place quite as unique as the duckbill's, and a personality not less -fascinating than the swallow's or the gray squirrel's. - -[Illustration] - -However, the toad to the most of us is anything but a poem. What, -indeed, looks less lovely, less nimble and buoyant, more chained to -the earth, than a toad? But stretch the least web between his toes, -lengthen his hind legs, and--over he goes, the leopard-frog, champion -high diver of the marsh! Or, instead of the web, tip his toes with the -tiniest disks, and--there he swings, Pickering's little hyla, clinging -as easily to the under surface of that oak-leaf high in the tree as a -fly clings to the kitchen ceiling. - -When a boy I climbed to the top of the flagpole on one of the State -geological survey stations. The pole rose far above the surrounding -pines--the highest point for miles around. As I clinched the top of -the staff, gripping my fingers into the socket for the flag-stick, I -felt something cold, and drawing myself up, found a tree-toad asleep -in the hole. Under him was a second toad, and under the second a -third--all dozing up here on the very topmost tip of all the region. - -From the river-ooze to the tree-top, nature carries this toad-form -simply by a thin web between the toes, or by tiny disks at their tips. -And mixing her greens and browns with just a dash of yellow, she -paints them all so skilfully that, upon a lily-pad, beside a lump of -clay, or against the lichened limb of an old apple-tree, each sits as -securely as Perseus in the charmed helmet that made him invisible. - -The frogs have innumerable enemies among the water-birds, the fish, -the snakes, and such animals as the fisher, coon, possum, and mink. -The toads fortunately are supplied with glands behind their heads -whose secretion is hateful to most of their foes, though it seems to -be no offense whatever to the snakes. A toad's only chance, when a -snake is after him, lies in hiding. I once saw a race between a toad -and an adder snake, however, in which the hopper won. - -One bright May morning I was listening to the music of the church -bells, as it floated out from the city and called softly over the -fields, when my reverie was interrupted by a sharp squeak and a thud -beside the log on which I sat; something dashed over my foot; and -I turned to catch sight of a toad bouncing past the log, making -hard for the brush along the fence. He scarcely seemed to touch the -ground, but skimmed over the grass as if transformed into a midget -jack-rabbit. His case was urgent; and little wonder! At the opposite -end of the log, raised four or five inches from the grass, her eyes -hard glittering, her nose tilted in the air, and astonishment all over -her face, swayed the flat, ugly head of a hognose-adder. Evidently -she, too, had never seen a toad get away in any such time before; and -after staring a moment, she turned under the log and withdrew from the -race, beaten. - -Hungry snakes and hot, dusty days are death to the toads. Bufo would -almost as soon find himself at the bottom of a well as upon a dusty -road in blazing sunshine. His day is the night. He is not particular -about the moon. All he asks is that the night be warm, that the dew -lay the dust and dampen the grass, and that the insects be out in -numbers. At night the snakes are asleep, and so are most of those -ugly, creaking beasts with rolling iron feet that come crushing along -their paths. There is no foe abroad at night, and life, during these -dark, quiet hours, has even for a toad something like a dash of -gaiety. - -In one of the large pastures not far away stands a pump. It is shaded -by an ancient apple-tree, under which, when the days are hottest, the -cattle gather to doze and dream. They have worn away the grass about -the mossy trough, and the water, slopping over, keeps the spot cool -and muddy the summer through. Here the toads congregate from every -quarter of the great field. I stretched myself out flat on the grass -one night and watched them in the moonlight. There must have been -fifty here that night, hopping about over the wet place--as grotesque -a band as ever met by woods or waters. - -We need no "second sight," no pipe of Pan, no hills of Latmos with a -flock to feed, to find ourselves back in that enchanted world of the -kelpies and satyrs. All we need to do is to use the eyes and ears we -have, and haunt our hills by morning and by moonlight. Here in the -moonlight around the old pump I saw goblins, if ever goblins were seen -in the light of our moon. - -There was not a croak, not a squeak, not the slightest sound, save -the small _pit-pat_, _pit-pat_, made by their hopping. There may have -been some kind of toad talk among them, but listen never so closely, I -could not catch a syllable of it. - -Where did they all come from? How did they find their way to this -wet spot over the hills and across the acres of this wide pasture? -You could walk over the field in the daytime and have difficulty in -finding a single toad; but here at night, as I lay watching, every few -minutes one would hop past me in the grass; or coming down the narrow -cow-paths in the faint light I could see a wee black bunch bobbing -leisurely along with a hop and a stop, moving slowly toward the pump -to join the band of his silent friends under the trough. - -[Illustration] - -Not because there was more food at the pump, nor for the joy of -gossip, did the toads meet here. The one thing necessary to their -existence is water, and doubtless many of these toads had crossed this -pasture of fifteen acres simply to get a drink. I have known a toad to -live a year without food, and another to die in three days for lack of -water. And yet this thirsty little beast never knows the pleasure of -a real drink, because he does not know how to drink. - -I have kept toads confined in cages for weeks at a time, never -allowing them water when I could not watch them closely, and I never -saw one drink. Instead, they would sprawl out in the saucer on their -big, expansive bellies, and _soak_ themselves full, as they did here -on the damp sand about the pump. - -Just after sunset, when the fireflies light up and the crickets and -katydids begin to chirp, the toad that sleeps under my front step hops -out of bed, kicks the sand off his back, and takes a long look at the -weather. He seems to _think_ as he sits here on the gravel walk, sober -and still, with his face turned skyward. What does he think about? -Is he listening to the chorus of the crickets, to the whippoorwills, -or is it for supper he is planning? It may be of the vicissitudes of -toad life, and of the mutability of all sublunary things, that he -meditates. Who knows? Some day perhaps we shall have a batrachian -psychology, and I shall understand what it is that my door-step lodger -turns over and over in his mind as he watches the coming of the stars. -All I can do now is to minute his cogitations, and I remember one -evening when he sat thinking and winking a full hour without making a -single hop. - -As the darkness comes down he makes off for a night of bug-hunting. -At the first peep of dawn, bulging plump at the sides, he turns back -for home. Home to a toad usually means any place that offers sleep and -safety for the day; but if undisturbed, like the one under the step, -he will return to the same spot throughout the summer. This chosen -spot may be the door-step, the cracks between the bricks of a well, or -the dense leaves of a strawberry-bed. - -In the spring of 1899 so very little rain fell between March and June -that I had to water my cucumber-hills. There was scarcely a morning -during this dry spell that I did not find several toads tucked away -for the day in these moist hills. These individuals had no regular -home, like the one under the step, but hunted up the coolest, shadiest -places in the soft soil and made new beds for themselves every morning. - -Their bed-making is very funny, but not likely to meet the approval -of the housewife. Wearied with the night's hunting, a toad comes -to the cool cucumber-vines and proceeds at once to kick himself into -bed. He backs and kicks and elbows into the loose sand as far as he -can, then screws and twists till he is worked out of sight beneath -the soil, hind end foremost. Here he lies, with only his big pop-eyes -sticking out, half asleep, half awake. If a hungry adder crawls along, -he simply pulls in his eyes, the loose sand falls over them, and the -snake passes on. - -When the nights begin to grow chilly and there are threatenings of -frost, the toads hunt up winter quarters, and hide deep down in some -warm burrow--till to-morrow if the sun comes out hot, or, it may be, -not to wake until next April. Sometimes an unexpected frost catches -them, when any shelter must do, when even their snake-fear is put -aside or forgotten. "Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows," -said Trinculo, as he crawled in with Caliban from the storm. So might -the toad say in an early frost. - -The workmen in a sandstone-quarry near by dug out a bunch of toads one -winter, all mixed up with a bunch of adders. They were wriggled and -squirmed together in a perfect jumble of legs, heads, and tails--all -in their dead winter sleep. Their common enemy, the frost, had taken -them unawares, and driven them like friends into the crevice of the -rocks, where they would have slept together until the spring had not -the quarrymen unearthed them. - -There is much mystery shrouding this humble batrachian. Somewhere in -everybody's imagination is a dark cell harboring a toad. Reading down -through literature, it is astonishing how often the little monster has -hopped into it. There is chance for some one to make a big book of the -fable and folk-lore that has been gathering through the ages about the -toads. The stories of the jewels in their heads, of their age-long -entombments in the rocks, of the warts and spells they induce, of -their eating fire and dropping from the clouds, are legion. - -[Illustration] - -And there seems to be some basis of fact for all these tales. No one -has yet written for us the life-history of the toad. After having -watched the tadpole miracle, one is thoroughly prepared to see toads -jump out of the fire, tumble from broken marble mantles, and fall -from the clouds. I never caught them in my hat during a shower; but -I have stood on Mauricetown Bridge, when the big drops came pelting -down, and seen those drops apparently turn into tiny toads as they -struck the planks, until the bridge was alive with them! Perhaps they -had been hiding from the heat between the cracks of the planks--but -there are people who believe that they came down from the clouds. - -How, again, shall I explain this bit of observation? More than six -years I lived near a mud-hole that dried up in July. I passed it -almost daily. One spring there was a strange toad-call in the hole, -a call that I had never heard anything like before--a deafening, -agonizing roar, hoarse and woeful. I found on investigation that the -water was moving with spade-foot toads. Two days later the hole was -still; every toad was gone. They disappeared; and though I kept that -little puddle under watch for several seasons after that, I have not -known a spade-foot to appear there since. - -[Illustration] - -The water was almost jellied with their spawn, and a little later was -swarming with spade-foot tadpoles. Then it began to dry up, and some -of the tadpoles were left stranded in the deep foot-prints of the -cows along the edge of the hole. Just as fast as the water disappeared -in these foot-prints, the tails of the tadpoles were absorbed and -legs formed, and they hopped away--some of them a week before their -brothers, that were hatched at the same time, but who had stayed in -the middle of the pond, where the deeper water allowed them a longer -babyhood for the use of their tails. So swiftly, under pressure, can -nature work with this adaptable body of the toad! - -Long before the sun-baked mud began to crack these young ones had -gone--where? And whence came their parents, and whither went they? -When will they return? - -[Illustration] - - - - -A BUZZARDS' BANQUET - - -[Illustration: "In a state of soured silence."] - -A BUZZARDS' BANQUET - - -Is there anything ugly out of doors? Can the ardent, sympathetic -lover of nature ever find her unlovely? We know that she is supremely -utilitarian, and we have only wonder and worship for her prodigal and -perfect economy. But does she always couple beauty with her utility? - -To her real lover nature is never tiresome nor uninteresting; but -often she is most fascinating when veiled. She has moods and tempers -and habits, even physical blemishes, that are frequently discovered to -the too pressing suitor; and though these may quicken his interest and -faith, they often dissipate that halo of perfection with which first -fancy clothed her. This intimacy, this "seeing the very pulse of the -machine," is what spoils poets like Burroughs and Thoreau: spoils them -for poets to make them the truer philosophers. - -Like the spots on the sun, all of nature's other blemishes disappear -in the bright blaze of her loveliness when viewed through a veil, -whether of shadows, or mists, or distance. This is half the secret of -the spell of the night, of the mystery of the sea, and the enchantment -of an ancient forest. From the depths of a bed in the meadow-grass -there is perfection of motion, the very soul of poetry, in the flight -of a buzzard far up under the blue dome of the sky; but look at the -same bald-headed, snaky-necked creature upon a fence-stake, and you -wonder how leagues into the clouds ever hid his ugly visage from you. -Melrose must be seen by moonlight. The light to see the buzzard in -has never been on land or sea, has come no nearer than the high white -clouds that drift far away in the summer sky. - -From an economic point of view the buzzard is an admirable creation. -So are the robin, the oriole, and most other birds; but these are -admirable also from the esthetic point of view. Not so the buzzard. -He has the wings of Gabriel--the wings only; for, truly, his neck -and head are Lucifer's. If ugliness be an attribute of nature, then -this bird is its expression incarnate. Not that he is wicked, but -worse than wicked--repulsive. Now the jackal is a mean, sordid scamp, -a miserable half-dog beast, a degenerate that has not fallen far, -since he was never up very high. The buzzard, on the other hand, _was_ -a bird. What he is now is unnamable. He has fallen back below the -reptiles, into a harpy with snake's head and bird's body--a vulture -more horrid than any mythical monster. - -[Illustration: "Ugliness incarnate."] - -Having once seen a turkey-buzzard feeding, one has no difficulty in -accounting for the origin of those "angry creations of the gods" -that defiled the banquets of King Phineus. If there is any holiness -of beauty, surely the turkey-buzzard with clipped wing is the most -unholy, the most utterly lost soul in the world. - -One bright, warm day in January--a frog-waking day in southern New -Jersey--I saw the buzzards in unusual numbers sailing over the pines -beyond Cubby Hollow. Hoping for a glimpse of something social in the -silent, unemotional solitaries, I hurried over to the pines, and -passing through the wood, found a score of the birds feasting just -beyond the fence in an open field. - -Creeping up close to the scene, I quietly hid in a big drift of -leaves and corn-blades that the winds had piled in a corner of the -worm-fence, and became an uninvited guest at the strangest, gruesomest -assemblage ever gathered--a buzzards' banquet. - -The silence of the nether world wrapped this festive scene. Like ugly -shades from across the Styx came the birds, deepening the stillness -with their swishing wings. It was an unearthly picture: the bare, -stub-stuck corn-field, the gloomy pines, the silent, sullen buzzards -in the yellow winter sunlight! - -The buzzards were stalking about when I arrived, all deliberately -fighting for a place and a share of the spoil. They made no noise; -and this dumb semblance of battle heightened the unearthliness of the -scene. As they lunged awkwardly about, the ends of their over-long -wings dragged the ground, and they tripped and staggered like drunken -sailors on shore. The hobbling hitch of seals on land could not be -less graceful than the strut of these fighting buzzards. They scuffled -as long as there was a scrap to fight for, wordless and bloodless, not -even a feather being disturbed, except those that rose with anger, -as the hair rises on a dog's back. But the fight was terrible in its -uncanniness. - -[Illustration: "Sailing over the pines."] - -Upon the fence and in the top of a dead oak near by others settled, -and passed immediately into a state of semi-consciousness that was -almost a stupor. Gloomy and indifferent they sat, hunched up with -their heads between their shoulders, perfectly oblivious of all -mundane things. There was no sign of recognition between the birds -until they dropped upon the ground and began fighting. Let a crow join -a feeding group of its fellows, and there will be considerable cawing; -even a sparrow, coming into a flock, will create some chirping: but -there was not so much as the twist of a neck when a new buzzard joined -or left this assemblage. Each bird sat as if he were at the center of -the Sahara Desert, as though he existed alone, with no other buzzard -on the earth. - -There was no hurry, no excitement anywhere; even the struggle on the -ground was measured and entirely wooden. None of the creatures on the -fence showed any haste to fall to feeding. After alighting they would -go through the long process of folding up their wings and packing -them against their sides; then they would sit awhile as if trying to -remember why they had come here rather than gone to any other place. -Occasionally one would unfold his long wings by sections, as you would -open a jointed rule, pause a moment with them outstretched, and, with -a few ponderous flaps, sail off into the sky without having tasted -the banquet. Then another upon the ground, having feasted, would -run a few steps to get spring, and bounding heavily into the air, -would smite the earth with his too long wings, and go swinging up -above the trees. As these grew small and disappeared in the distance, -others came into view, mere specks among the clouds, descending in -ever-diminishing circles until they settled, without word or greeting, -with their fellows at the banquet. - -The fence was black with them. Evidently there is news that spreads -even among these incommunicative ghouls. Soon one settled upon the -fence-stake directly over me. To dive from the clouds at the frightful -rate of a mile a minute, and, with those mighty wings, catch the body -in the invisible net of air about the top of a fence-stake, is a feat -that stops one's breath to see. No matter if, here within my reach, -his suit of black looked rusty; no matter if his beak was a sickly, -milky white, his eyes big and watery, and wrinkled about his small -head and snaky neck was red, bald skin, making a visage as ugly as -could be made without human assistance. In spite of all this, I looked -upon him with wonder; for I had seen him mark this slender pole from -the clouds, and hurl himself toward it as though to drive it through -him, and then, between these powerful wings, light as softly upon the -point as a sleeping babe is laid upon a pillow from its mother's arms. - -Perhaps half a hundred now were gathered in a writhing heap upon the -ground. A banquet this _sans_ toasts and cheer--the very soul of the -unconvivial. It was a strange dumb-show in serious reality, rather -than a banquet. In the stir of their scuffling, the dry clashing of -their wings, and the noise of their tumbling and pulling and pecking -as they moved together, I could hear low, serpent-like hisses. Except -for a sort of half-heard guttural croak at rare intervals, these -hisses were the only utterances that broke the silence. So far as I -know, this sibilant, batrachio-reptilian language is the meager limit -of the buzzard's faculty of vocal expression. With croak and hiss he -warns and woos. And what tender emotion has a buzzard too subtle for -expression by a croak or hiss? And if he hates, what need has he of -words--with such a countenance? - -But he does not hate, for he does not love. To be able to hate -implies a soul; and the buzzard has no soul. Laziness, gluttony, -uncleanness, have destroyed everything spiritual in him. He has almost -lost his language, so that now, even among his own kind, except when -surprised, he is silent. But he needs no language, for he is not -companionable; there is no trace of companionableness in his nature. -He seems entirely devoid of affection and fellow-feeling, showing no -interest whatever in any one or anything save his stomach. The seven -evil spirits of the dyspeptic possess him, body and soul. - -It must be added, however, that the buzzards are to some extent -gregarious. They often fly together, roost together, and nest in -communities. In this latter fact some naturalists would find evidence -of sociability; but this manner of nesting is not their habit. They -more generally nest a single pair to a swamp. When they nest in -communities, it is rather because the locality is suitable than from -any desire to be together. Yet they frequently choose the same dead -tree, or clump of trees, for a roost, which may mean that even in a -buzzard's bosom there is something that calls for companionship. - -[Illustration: "A banquet this _sans_ toasts and cheer."] - -For a nesting-place the buzzard selects a swamp or remote and -heavy timber where there is slight chance of molestation. Here, in a -rough nest of sticks and leaves, upon the ground, in a hollow log, -upon a stump, or sometimes upon the bare earth, are laid the two long, -brown-blotched eggs that constitute the complement. - -"I once found a nest," a correspondent writes, "in a low, thick mat -of briers and grape-vines. The female was brooding her eggs when I -came upon the nest, and the moment she caught sight of me, instead of -trying to defend her treasures as any normal mother would have done, -she turned like a demon upon her nest, thrust her beak into one of her -eggs, and devoured it before I could scare her off." - -This unnatural act is thus far without parallel in my observation -of bird life. But it is only testimony of what one may read in the -appearance of the buzzard. The indolent habits, the unnamable tastes, -have demoralized and unmothered the creature. - -I cannot think that the buzzard was so depraved back in the Beautiful -Garden. The curse of Adam is on him; but instead of sweating like the -rest of us and so redeeming himself, he is content to be cursed. The -bird has degenerated. You can see in his countenance that originally -he was not so vicious in taste and habit. If, when this office of -scavenger was created, the buzzard was installed, it was because he -was too lazy and too indifferent to refuse. He may have protested and -sulked; he even continues to protest and sulk: but he has been engaged -so long in the business now that he is utterly incapable of earning a -living in any other way. - -I saw all this in the face and attitude of the buzzard on the stake -above me. He sat there as if conscious that a scavenger's life was -beneath a bird of his parts; he looked mad with himself for submitting -to a trade so degrading, mad with his position among the birds: but -long ago he recognized the difficulty of changing his place and manner -of life, and, rather than make the effort, he sank into this state of -soured silence. - -That this is the way to read his personal record and the history of -his clan is clear to my mind, because the bird is still armed with the -great talons and beak of the eagles. He was once a hunter. Through -generations of disuse these weapons have become dulled, weakened, -and unfit for the hunt; and the buzzard, instead of struggling for -his quarry, is driven to eat a dinner that every other predatory bird -would refuse. - -Another proof of his fall is that at this late day he has a decided -preference for fresh food. This was doubtless the unspoiled taste of -his ancestors, given with the beak and talons. He is a glutton and a -coward, else he would be an eagle still. - -We associate the turkey-buzzard with carrion, and naturally attribute -his marvelous power of finding food to his sense of smell. Let a dead -animal be dragged into the field, and in less than an hour there will -be scores of these somber creatures gathered about it, when, in all -the reach of the horizon for perhaps a week past, not more than one or -two have been seen at any one time. Did they detect an odor miles away -and follow the scent hither? Possibly. But yonder you spy a buzzard -sailing so far up that he appears no larger than a swallow. He is -descending. Watch where he settles. Lo! he is eating the garter-snake -that you killed in the path a few minutes ago. How did the bird from -that altitude discover so tiny a thing? He could not have smelled -it, for it had no odor. He saw it. It is not by scent, but by his -astonishing powers of sight, that the buzzard finds his food. - -[Illustration: "Floating without effort among the clouds."] - -One day I carried a freshly killed chicken into the field, and tying -a long string to it, hid myself near by in a corn-shock. Soon a -buzzard passing overhead began to circle about me; and I knew that -he had discovered the chicken. Down he came, leisurely at first, -spirally winding, as though descending some aërial stairway from the -clouds, till, just above the tree-tops, he began to swing like a -great pendulum through the air, turning his head from side to side -as he passed over the chicken, watching to see if it were alive. He -was about to settle when I pulled the string. Up he darted in great -fright. Again and again I repeated the experiment; and each time, -at the least sign of life, the buzzard hurried off--afraid of so -inoffensive a thing as a chicken! - -Quite a different story comes to me from Pennsylvania. My -correspondent writes: "Years ago, while I was at school in De Kalb, -Mississippi, all the children had their attention called to a great -commotion in a chicken-yard next the school-house. It appeared that -a large hawk had settled down and was doing battle with a hen. My -brother left the school-house and ran to the yard, cautiously opened -the gate, slipped up behind, and caught the 'hawk'--which proved to be -a large and almost famished turkey-buzzard. He kept it four or five -days, when it died." Extreme hunger might drive a buzzard to attack -a hen; but rare indeed is such boldness nowadays. - -There were by this time fully a hundred buzzards about me, some -coming, some going, some sitting moody and disgusted, while others -picked hungrily among the bones. They had no suspicion of my presence, -but I had grown tired of them, and springing suddenly from the leaves, -I stood in their midst. There was consternation and hissing for an -instant, then a violent flapping of wings, and away they flew in every -direction. Their heavy bodies were quickly swung above the trees, and -soon they were all sailing away beyond the reach of straining eyes. -Presently one came over far up in the blue, floating without effort -among the clouds, now wheeling in great circles, now swinging through -immense arcs, sailing with stately grandeur on motionless wings in -flight that was sublime. - - - - -UP HERRING RUN - - -[Illustration] - -UP HERRING RUN - - -The habit of migrating is not confined to birds. To some extent it is -common to all animals that have to move about for food, whether they -live in the water or upon the land. The warm south wind that sweeps -northward in successive waves of bluebirds and violets, of warblers -and buttercups, moves with a like magic power over the sea. It touches -the ocean with the same soft hand that wakes the flowers and brings -the birds, and as these return to upland and meadow, the waters stir -and the rivers and streams become alive with fish. Waves of sturgeon, -shad, and herring come in from unknown regions of the ocean, and pass -up toward the head waters of the rivers and through the smaller -streams inland to the fresh-water lakes. - -Waves of herring, did I say? It is a torrent of herring that rushes up -Herring Run, a spring freshet from the loosened sources of the life of -the sea. - -This movement of the fish is mysterious; no more so than the migration -of the birds, perhaps, but it seems more wonderful to me. Bobolink's -yearly round trip from Cuba to Canada may be, and doubtless is, a -longer and a more perilous journey than that made by the herring or by -any other migrant of the sea; but Bobolink's road and his reasons for -traveling are not altogether hidden. He has the cold winds and failing -food to drive him, and the older birds to pilot him on his first -journey South, and the love of home to draw him back when the spring -comes North again. Food and weather were the first and are still the -principal causes of his unrest. The case of the herring seems to be -different. Neither food nor weather influences them. They come from -the deep sea to the shallow water of the shore to find lodgment for -their eggs and protection for their young; but what brings them -from the salt into fresh water, and what drives these particular -herring up Herring Run instead of up some other stream? Will some one -please explain? - -[Illustration: "From unknown regions of the ocean."] - -Herring Run is the natural outlet of Whitman's Pond. It runs down -through Weymouth about three fourths of a mile to Weymouth Back River, -thence to the bay and on to the sea. It is a crooked, fretful little -stream, not over twenty feet wide at the most, very stony and very -shallow. - -[Illustration: "A crooked, fretful little stream."] - -About a hundred years ago, as near as the oldest inhabitants can -remember, a few men of Weymouth went down to Taunton with their -ox-teams, and caught several barrels of herring as they came up the -Taunton River to spawn. These fish they brought alive to Weymouth -and liberated in Whitman's Pond; and these became the ancestors of -the herring which have been returning to Whitman's Pond for the last -century of Aprils. - -As soon as the weather warms in the spring the herring make their -appearance in the Run. A south wind along in April is sure to fetch -them; and from the first day of their arrival, for about a month, -they continue to come, on their way to the pond. But they may be -delayed for weeks by cold or storms. Their sensitiveness to changes of -temperature is quite as delicate as a thermometer's. On a favorable -day--clear and sunny with a soft south wind--they can be seen stemming -up-stream by hundreds. Suddenly the wind shifts, blowing up cold from -the east, and long before the nicest instrument registers a fraction -of change in the temperature of the Run, the herring have turned tail -to and scurried off down-stream to the salt water. - -They seem to mind nothing so much as this particular change of the -wind and the cold that follows. It may blow or cloud over, and even -rain, without affecting them, if only the storms are from the right -quarter and it stays warm. A cold east wind always hurries them back -to deep water, where they remain until the weather warms up again. -Late in May, however, when they must lay their eggs, they ascend the -stream, and nothing short of a four-foot dam will effectually stop -their progress to the pond. - -They are great swimmers. It is a live fish indeed that makes Whitman's -Pond. There are flying-fish and climbing-fish, fish that walk over -land and fish that burrow through the mud; but in an obstacle race, -with a swift stream to stem, with rocks, logs, shallows, and dams to -get over, you may look for a winner in the herring. - -He will get up somehow--right side up or bottom side up, on his head -or on his tail, swimming, jumping, flopping, climbing, up he comes! -A herring can almost walk on his tail. I have watched them swim up -Herring Run with their backs half out of water; and when it became too -shallow to swim at all, they would keel over on their sides and flop -for yards across stones so bare and dry that a mud-minnow might easily -have drowned upon them for lack of water. - -[Illustration: "Swimming, jumping, flopping, climbing, up he comes!"] - -They are strong, graceful, athletic fish, quite the ideal fish type, -well balanced and bewilderingly bony. The herring's bones are his -Samson hair--they make his strength and agility possible; and besides -that, they are vast protection against the frying-pan. - -When the herring are once possessed of the notion that it is high -time to get back to the ancestral pond and there leave their eggs, -they are completely mastered by it. They are not to be stopped nor -turned aside. Like Mussulmans toward Mecca they struggle on, until an -impassable dam intervenes or the pond is reached. They seem to feel -neither hunger, fear, nor fatigue, and, like the salmon of Columbia -River, often arrive at their spawning-grounds so battered and bruised -that they die of their wounds. They become frantic when opposed. In -Herring Run I have seen them rush at a dam four feet high, over which -tons of water were pouring, and, by sheer force, rise over two feet -in the perpendicular fall before being carried back. They would dart -from the foam into the great sheet of falling water, strike it like -an arrow, rise straight up through it, hang an instant in mid-fall, -and be hurled back, and killed often, on the rocks beneath. Had -there been volume enough of the falling water to have allowed them a -fair swimming chance, I believe that they could have climbed the dam -through the perpendicular column. - -Under the dam, and a little to one side, a "rest," or pen, has been -constructed into which the herring swim and are caught. The water in -this pen is backed up by a gate a foot high. The whole volume of the -stream pours over this gate and tears down a two-foot sluiceway with -velocity enough to whirl along a ten-pound rock that I dropped into -the box. The herring run this sluice and jump the gate with perfect -ease. Twelve thousand of them have leaped the gate in a single hour; -and sixty thousand of them went over it in one day and were scooped -from the pen. The fish always keep their heads up-stream, and will -crowd into the pen until the shallow water is packed with them. When -no more can squeeze in, a wire gate is put into the sluice, the -large gates of the dam are closed, and the fish are ladled out with -scoop-nets. - -The town sold the right to a manufacturing company to build this -dam in the Run, together with the sole right to catch the herring, on -condition that yearly a certain number of the fish be carted alive -to the pond in order to spawn; and with this further condition, that -every Weymouth householder be allowed to buy four hundred herring at -twenty-five cents per hundred. - -A century ago four hundred herring to a household might not have been -many herring; but things have changed in a hundred years. To-day no -householder, saving the keeper of the town house, avails himself of -this generous offer. I believe that a man with four hundred pickled -herring about his premises to-day would be mobbed. Pickled herring, -scaly, shrunken, wrinkled, discolored, and strung on a stick in the -woodshed, undoes every other rank and bilious preserve that I happen -to know. One can easily credit the saying, still current in the town, -that if a native once eats a Weymouth herring he will never after -leave the place. - -Usually the fish first to arrive in the spring are males. These -precede the females, or come along with them in the early season, -while the fish to arrive last are nearly all females. The few that -are taken alive to the pond deposit their eggs within a few days, and, -after a little stay, descend the Run, leap the dam, and again pass -out into the ocean. The eggs are placed along the shallow edges of -the pond, among the reeds and sedges. At first they float around in a -thin, viscid slime, or jelly, which finally acts as a glue to fasten -them to the grass. Here, left without parental care, the eggs hatch -and the fry wiggle off and begin at once to shift for themselves. - -How hard they fare! In her sacrifice of young fish, nature seems -little better than a bloody Aztec. I happened to be at Bay Side, a -sturgeon fishery on the Delaware Bay, when a sturgeon was landed whose -roe weighed ninety pounds. I took a quarter of an ounce of these eggs, -counted them, and reckoned that the entire roe numbered 3,168,000 -eggs. Yet, had these eggs been laid, not more than one to a million -would have developed to maturity. So it is with the herring. Millions -of their eggs are devoured by turtles, frogs, pickerel, and eels. -Indeed, young herring are so important a food-supply for fresh-water -fish that the damming of streams and the indiscriminate slaughter of -the spawners now seriously threatens certain inland fishing interests. -Many waters have been re-stocked with herring as a source of food for -more valuable fish. - -August comes, and the youngsters, now about the length of your finger, -grown tired of the fresh water and the close margins of the pond, find -their way to the Run, and follow their parents down its rough bed to -a larger life in the sea. Here again hungry enemies await them. In -untold numbers they fall a prey to sharks, cod, and swordfish. Yet -immense schools survive, and thousands will escape even the fearful -steam nets of the menhaden-fishermen and see Herring Run again. - -[Illustration: "Here again hungry enemies await them."] - -If only we could conjure one of them to talk! What a deep-sea story -he could tell! What sights, what wanderings, what adventures! But -the sea keeps all her tales. We do not know even if the herring from -Whitman's Pond live together as an individual clan or school during -their ocean life. There are certain indications that they do. There -is not much about a Whitman's Pond herring to distinguish it from a -Taunton River or a Mystic Pond herring,--the Weymouth people declare -they can tell the difference with their eyes shut,--though I believe -the fish themselves know one another, and that those of each pond keep -together. At least, when the inland running begins, the schools are -united, for then no Whitman's Pond herring is found with a Taunton -River band. - -In late summer the fry go down-stream; but whether it is they that -return the next spring, or whether it is only the older fish, is -not certain. It is certain that no immature fish ever appear in the -spring. The naturalists are almost agreed that the herring reach -maturity in eighteen months. In that case it will be two years before -the young appear in the Run. The Weymouth fishermen declare, however, -that they do not seek the pond until the third spring; for they say -that when the pond was first stocked, it was three years before any -herring, of their own accord, made their way back to spawn. - -Meantime where and how do they live? All the ocean is theirs to roam -through, though even the ocean has its belts and zones, its barriers -which the strongest swimmers cannot pass. The herring are among the -nomads of the sea; but let them wander never so far through the deep, -you may go to the Run in April and expect to see them. Here, over the -stones and shallows by which they found their way to the sea, they -will come struggling back. No mistake is evermade, no variation, -no question as to the path. On their way up the river from the bay -they will pass other fresh-water streams, as large, even larger, than -Herring Run. But their instinct is true. They never turn aside until -they taste the Run, and though myriads enter, a half-mile farther up -the river not a herring will be found. - -It is easy to see how the ox might know his owner, and the ass his -master's crib; but how a herring, after a year of roving through the -sea, knows its way up Herring Run to the pond, is past finding out. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -Transcriber's Notes - -Retained original spelling except for changing two oe ligatures to -"oe" in "amoeba" and "manoeuvering." - -Moved some illustrations to paragraph breaks. - -The original page numbers are displayed in the List of Illustrations. -The HTML version links the numbers to the illustrations rather than -the page numbers. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Wild Life Near Home, by Dallas Lore Sharp - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILD LIFE NEAR HOME *** - -***** This file should be named 42871-8.txt or 42871-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/8/7/42871/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Diane Monico, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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