436 Life-histories of Northern Animals 



entangled in its fur gives it the unexpected jerk that throws 

 it on the mercy of foes that know no mercy; a scuffle then — 

 a crunching of bones — and the Red Monk's Hfe has ended 

 in a tragedy. 



But these were individual cases. The race is far indeed 

 from ending. In those, that now I call my Woodchuck days, 

 the Bear, the Deer, the Beaver, the Wolf, and even the Porcu- 

 pine were gone, but the Woodchuck throve, as still it does. 

 Without the cunning, the speed, the strength, the armament, 

 or the prowess of any of these, it still has a secret better than all 

 that gifts it with power to hold its own. The secret of its life 

 and the sum of its wisdom is this — keep close to the ground. 

 In time of fear it flies to Mother Earth. This, indeed, is wisdom, 

 for our wise men tell us all flesh is earthborn Anteus-like, that 

 nations die as surely as they quit the soil. Here man himself 

 might learn a lesson; while others pass away, the Woodchuck's 

 race yet lives and thrives and holds its ancient range. 



