AFTER THE WOODCHUCK. 



Now is the season when these lazy fel- 

 lows, living- but to eat and enjoy them- 

 selves are in the pink of condition. 

 The lucious and rank growth of the 

 red clover furnishes the diet which 

 encloses the ribs, first with a handsome 

 coating of meat and after that a coat- 

 ing of fat. Talk of a muskrat being a 

 clean feeder and exceedingly careful as 

 to the substance of his meals ! Why he 

 is not to be compared with this fellow 

 of the hillside. The juices of the 

 sweetest clover, the blades of the early 

 corn, with the bite of an apple now and 

 again as a sweet morsel and you have 

 the food of this most cleanly of 

 quadrupeds. Where is he to be found? 

 Let me tell of it. Down east, not far 

 to be sure, for it is just outside the 

 boundaries of the Empire State, one 

 finds a broken country. The grounds 

 are a succession of broken hills with 

 short valleys between them. Little 

 brooks course through these valleys, 

 murmuring sweet songs as they ripple 

 over pebbly bottoms or rush with louder 

 noise over the larger stones which 

 obstruct their passage. The streams 

 are usually at the foot of hills which 

 rise for some height above the level of 

 the valley. Their sides are well grown 

 with young sprouts or thrifty young 

 trees. Rocks from the size of stones 

 which one could throw a long distance 

 to others which it would take an ox to 

 move, line these hills from base to 

 summit. 



Your woodchuck is a quiet fellow in 

 his tastes. He wants to be by himself 

 and it is seldom that two are to be 

 found in close proximity. He is fond 

 of solitude. Along in the spring-time 



when the family breaks apart, a new 

 home has to be selected. The hillsides 

 are carefully traversed and each stone 

 or a place where three or four large 

 ones are bunched together are all care- 

 fully inspected. Finally a spot is found 

 where two have come together, their 

 tops lapping. It is earth between 

 them. Some instinct tells the wood- 

 chuck that between these lapping 

 stones he can make his home. He be- 

 gins to dig and scrape and quickly has 

 a small cave, just large enough to hold 

 him comfortably, and at the same time 

 shield him from sun and storm. The 

 size of the opening remains the same 

 but each day sees the passage length- 

 ening in the earth until quite a gallery 

 is formed. At the end of this is his 

 sleeping apartment, and as eating and 

 sleeping are the sum and substance of 

 his life, he has a delightful time of it. 

 At the mouth of his home a heap of 

 earth is formed, in fact it is a little 

 hillock right at the mouth of my 

 woodchuck's home. His constant 



going in and out keeps the grass 

 from growing, so that the ever 

 fresh brown color of the earth tells 

 plainly that here the animal has his 

 abode. A short space from where 

 the brook leaves the woodland it opens 

 into some rich pasture, or a low lying 

 meadow rich with grasses of early 

 summer. 



Here is where this gourmet of the 

 country side takes his meals. Scarce 

 has the sun risen above the horizon 

 flashing the globules of dew to the 

 sight when my friend is on the move. 

 It is the time of his matutinal meal 

 and he has no idea of foregoing it. 



