96 NOTES BY THE WAY. 
rectly for the hole. At that moment the woodchuck 
discovers his danger, and, seeing that it is a race for 
life, leaps as I never saw marmot leap before. But 
he is two seconds too late, his retreat is cut off, and 
the powerful jaws of the old dog close upon him. 
The next season Cuff tried the same tactics again 
with like success ; but when the third woodchuck had 
taken up his abode at the fatal hole, the old churner’s 
wits and strength had begun to fail him, and he was 
baffled in each attempt to capture the animal. 
The woodchuck always burrows on a side-hill. This 
enables him to guard against being drowned out, by 
making the termination of the hole higher than the 
entrance. He digs in slantingly for about two or three 
feet, then makes a sharp upward turn and keeps nearly 
parallel with the surface of the ground for a distance 
of eight or ten feet farther, according to the grade. 
Here he makes his nest and passes the winter, holing 
up in October or November and coming out again in 
April. This is a long sleep, and is rendered possible 
only by the amount of fat with which the system has 
become stored during the summer. The fire of life 
still burns, but very faintly and slowly, as with the 
draughts all closed and the ashes heaped up. fRes- 
piration is continued, but at longer intervals, and all 
the vital processes are nearly at a standstill. Dig one 
out during hibernation (Audubon did so), and you 
find it a mere inanimate ball, that suffers itself to be 
moved and rolled about without showing signs of 
awakening. But bring it in by the fire, and it pres- 
ently unrolls and opens its eyes, and crawls feebly 
about, and if left to itself will seek some dark hole or 
corner, roll itself up again, and resume its former con- 
dition. 
