Woodchuck 



pleasant part of the year, as far as they are concerned at least, 

 by tucking themselves up in some out-of-the-way corner and 

 sleeping or dozing or hibernating the time away, each according 

 to its own particular taste, until spring comes round again. And 

 certainly no more satisfactory method could be devised for spend- 

 ing the winter, either as regards economy or personal comfort. 



It is probably to this habit that the dormouse of the Old 

 World owes its reputation of being the most ridiculously sleepy 

 and drowsy little beast in the universe, though 1 fancy that a 

 good many of the animals on this side of the Atlantic could 

 give him points on the matter of taking protracted naps, as 

 might naturally be expected in a climate where the temperature 

 is liable to vary over one hundred degrees in the course of a 

 twelvemonth. The dormouse, it would seem, does not depend 

 entirely on its faculty for sleeping, to while away the long winter 

 hours, but in the autumn puts by a store of hazelnuts and when- 

 ever the weather turns warmer for a few days, though it is in 

 the very depth of the winter, he wakes up for a luncheon and 

 a breath of fresh air, and then turns in again for another nap, 

 so keeping a general idea of the weather as the mild English 

 winter wears itself away. 



Bui how much does the oldest woodchuck know of the New 

 England winter? He can only realize that there are spring, summer 

 and autumn, and then spring again, with only occasional flurries of 

 snow and severe frost occurring at long intervals, perhaps a 

 dozen times in the course of his life. If, as seems probable, 

 the woodchuck really sleeps all winter long, then his waking 

 hours occupy an extremely small portion of his life, for during 

 the entire summer he spends the greater part of his time in his 

 hole, and as he never takes his meals there, it is hard to imagine 

 how he can occupy himself at such times except in sleeping. 

 He is, perhaps, the least industrious animal in existence except 

 when engaged in digging his hole, when he works away 

 at a tremendous rate until it is finished; but once it is 

 completed, he seldom attempts to enlarge or remodel it in any 

 way, but spends his days in luxurious ease, coming out to get 

 his breakfast soon after sunrise, while the dew is still on the 

 grass, at which time I fancy he makes his most substantial 

 meal, though he may occasionally be seen feeding at any time 

 of day. At noon he is pretty sure to make his appearance above 



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