House Mouse 



pressly designed to keep a family of mice comfortable and safe. 



When hungry they have only to penetrate the hay which is 

 piled high about them, and explore the fragrant labyrinths between 

 the stems of herd-grass and clover for seeds and dried field- 

 strawberries, and the dessicated bodies of crickets and grass - 

 hoppers pitched up with the hay when it was unloaded from 

 the rack the summer before. I have often in mid-winter come 

 across dried strawberries in the hay, which still possessed every 

 bit of their June sweetness; what a feast one of those would 

 make for a foraging mouse in' mid-winter! 



Then there are the scaffolds of corn fodder, containing hidden 

 treasures in the shape of whole ears overlooked in the husking, any 

 one of which would be enough to support a family of mice for weeks. 

 Beyond a doubt the lives of these mice of the barn are rendered 

 more interesting and worth while, by the simple possibility of 

 discovering some such treasure as this at any moment. 



Compare this with the life of those living in the granaries, 

 encompassed on all sides by bins of ripe corn, and with never a 

 change of diet except what is supplied by the capture of stray 

 spiders and bugs. 



Sometimes at night the mice of the hay mows descend 

 to the floor and join those which have their holes in the out- 

 of-the-way corners of the barn, in their search for meat scattered 

 about the bins where stock was fed. 



Many of them, instead of living in the mortises of the tim- 

 ber, make round nests of grass and shredded corn leaves 

 and husks in the recesses of the hay or in the middle of a 

 bundle of corn fodder. 



These, though safe enough at first, are sooner or later sure 

 to be routed out by the farmer, and may well consider them- 

 selves fortunate if they are without helpless families at the time. 



Being less exposed to the weather and changes of tempera- 

 ture than are creatures living out-of-doors, mice breed at all times 

 and seasons; and almost any time during the winter, the fret- 

 ful youngsters may be heard squeaking in their nests, resentful 

 perhaps of the discipline brought to bear upon them by their 

 parents. At first they are hardly larger than blue -bottle flies, pink, 

 wrinkled and transparent like shrimps; it is no exaggeration to 

 say that any substance on which they rest may be seen through 

 their diminutive bodies. 



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