TRACKS AND TRACKING 



are as clean as balls of worsted. In fact their 

 unravelling, with here and there an object in 

 the form of a bone, a tooth or a claw, recalls 

 the old form of lottery once popular at church 

 fairs, where for a stipend one might unroll a 

 ball of worsted until a prize dropped out. In 

 both instances there is an element of chance 

 which makes the game interesting,— it is more 

 or less of a gamble. Sometimes there are no 

 prizes, for the fur composes the whole of the 

 droppings, which then resemble tapering cyl- 

 inders of felt. 



As a result of many unravellings of fur and 

 feathers, I am able to present the following 

 fox menu: portions of sand-fleas and sea- 

 scuds and other small crustaceans; portions 

 of June beetles and tiger beetles; bones of 

 toad and frog; feathers of domestic fowl and 

 of wild birds, large and small; bones of birds; 

 claws of night heron and portions of skin of 

 foot; sclerotic or eye bones of some bird; fur 

 of mice and rabbits; bones of mammals; teeth 

 of meadow mouse; teeth of young skunk. 



The weasel bounds like a hobby-horse and 

 leaves his foot-marks in pairs on the sand,— 

 round impressions about the bigness of one's 

 thumb nail. These tracks are not common, 



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