A DAY IN AN OLD ORCHARD. 139 



was saddled on the upper side of a dry limb, but almost 

 hidden by other green branches. It was the daintiest 

 little bit of architecture, exquisitely lined, and orna- 

 mented on the outside with patches of green moss, so 

 as almost exactly to resemble the color of the limb. 

 A high wind in the fall broke off the branch, which 

 my friend saved for me, with the nest still firmly 

 attached. 



While I was sitting on the fence, listening to a flock 

 of gold finches overhead in a tree, I saw a large wood- 

 chuck in the adjoining clover field come out of his bur- 

 row under an oak to feed on the clover. I kept quiet 

 until he was quite as far from his burrow, triangularly 

 as I was, when I concluded to give him a race. He 

 saw the movement and started for the oak. I had a 

 little the advantage in the distance and kept it, and 

 stuck my foot into the entrance of the burrow just 

 ahead of him. He seemed to realize fully that he was 

 beaten, and made no attempt to escape, but cuddled 

 down in the grass, as much as to say, " I am at your 

 mercy ; do with me as you please." I had no desire to 

 do him harm, and only gave chase to see the ungainly, 

 billowy movements that he makes in running, though 

 perhaps his appearance was no more ludicrous to me 

 than mine to him; either way, I puffed much worse 

 than he did. After looking for a few minutes at his 

 fine face, but uncouth body, covered with its rusty, 

 shaggy coat, I moved off and left him free to take 

 possession of his hiding place. This seemed also to 

 astonish him, for he did not move until I was two 



