RANDOM NOTES ON NATURAL HISTORY. 



The Preservation of Animal Life in Winter. 



In the animal kingdom there are three re- 

 markable provisions for the preservation of 

 those whose supplies of food are likel}^ to 

 fail. The first is the instinct to store food, 

 as best seen among insects in the honey-bee, 

 among birds in the noisy jay, and among 

 our mammals in the striped squirrel or 

 chipmunk. The bee-keeper knows his bees 

 must have so many pounds of honey to be 

 able to winter without his help, and the 

 blue-jay, apparently' the most reckless bird 

 that flies, stuffs acorns and corn into every 

 crack and cranny he can find, as though he 

 intended not only to have enough for him- 

 self, but expected to be robbed of his scat- 

 tered hoard, as he himself has lived by rob- 

 bery, or worse. But the little chipmunk is a 

 model provider. Acorns, beech-nuts, corn, 

 or pumpkin seeds — anything that will feed a 

 squirrel in winter — are equally welcome to 

 him. And when he is on his way to his : 

 hole, if ever a fellow had "cheek" he has ! 

 How he gets such loads into one small { 

 mouth is a marvel that no one would credit i 

 who had not seen him at his harvest work. 

 But such a bright, cheerful, social fellow is 

 certainly welcome to his home, and welcome 

 also to the few grains of corn and wheat he 

 may chance to glean from our fields. His 

 cousin, the little brown striped squirrel of 

 the Rocky Mountains, is not so harmless a 

 neighbor, as many a miner would testify 

 who has lost his rice and bread by the plun- 

 dering of these adroit little thieves. At 

 one camp as they caught them, instead of 

 killing them, they cut off their ears and tails, 

 and set them free as a warning to others of 

 their tribe. It did not seem to have the 

 desired effect even upon the culprits them- 

 selves. They cut a most comical figure, as 

 they could be seen among the camps for 

 months, bearing the marks of their punish- 

 ment, but not cured of their old tricks. 



The second of nature's methods of pre- 

 serving animal life is by hibernation. The 

 lower animals, as insects and some reptiles, 

 become to all appearance entirely dormant, 

 and without essential change during the cold 

 in winter, and wake to active life only when 

 food is again ready for them. Others, like 

 the woodchuck, after growing fat on the 



abundant food of autumn, roll themselves 

 up in nests and sleep. Vital action is low- 

 ered, the}' consume but little ox^'gen, and 

 live upon the stores of fat with which they 

 went into winter quarters. The black bear 

 generally hibernates in caves and under old 

 tree-tops, but he is never so sleepy that he 

 is not ready for a battle if disturbed ; and 

 farther south he does not hibernate at all. 

 In New England he grows fat on green corn, 

 roots, and nuts in the fall, and so has had 

 the credit of growing fat by " sucking his 

 paw." This old notion is only another il- 

 lustration of theories in mechanics and life 

 that something can come from nothing. 

 The truth about the bear is that he grows 

 thin ever}' day he lies in his den. 



The third general method of preserving 

 the species through winter is by migration, 

 as best seen among birds, but practiced also 

 by some of the higher mammals. As 

 the autumn advances many of the smaller 

 birds from our midst and from the far 

 North quietly make their way south to find 

 warm weather and new stores of food for 

 the winter months. Others assemble in 

 flocks and seem to have grave consultations 

 over the projected journey. The metallic 

 note of the wild goose comes to us from 

 among the clouds, as night and day the 

 flocks wend their way in long lines to the 

 South. Long before they appear with us 

 the}' collect their broods in the lakes and 

 bays near their breeding-places, and seem 

 to be organizing for the long flight which 

 most of them are to take for the first time 

 to a land that most of them have never 

 seen ; for of every flock that starts from 

 those northern resting-places, the larger 

 part are young and have never flown but a 

 few miles before they commence their long 

 flight to an unknown land. They follow 

 their leaders, it is said. When did the first 

 leaders learn the way '? We have seen them 

 in the bays of Newfoundland, gathering 

 like a great army, practicing for days ; and 

 then one flock after another separates itself 

 from the great host and follows its chosen 

 leader to tiie South. They return in spring, 

 even while snow and ice abound, to be 

 ready for the opening of the short northern 

 summer. In the long days of the North and 

 by the unmolested lakes and bays of New- 

 foundland and Labrador, they find the best 

 conditions for rearing their young. — /Sprhig- 

 field Hepublican. 



