130 The White-Footed Mouse 
corn and singing his beautiful solo. I observed him 
without interruption for ten minutes, not over four 
feet from him. His song was not a chirp, but a con- 
tinuous song of musical tone, a kind of to-wit-to-wee- 
woo-woo-wee-woo, quite varied in pitch.” 
This does not mean necessarily that the white- 
footed mice as a species are musical or that they have 
any considerable vocal power. I believe, on the con- 
trary, that they are nearer mutes—attracting attention 
by drumming with their toes, a habit similar to the 
“thumping” of rabbits. 
In spite of midnight revels and feasts upon beech- 
nuts and grain, the existence of the white-footed 
mouse is one of eternal and anxious vigilance; its 
bright eyes must be ever on the watch for the shadow 
of hawk and owl, whose descent means swift and 
silent death; its sharp ears must be ever listening 
for the slightest stirring among the leaves, which may 
herald the coming of its dread enemy—the weasel. 
I was once passing through a thicket, when an 
unfamiliar sound caused me to stop to listen. Peer- 
ing through the brush I discovered a screech owl 
standing on the side of an old bird’s nest, only a 
short distance ahead of me. It was after sundown, 
but the light was sufficient to enable me to see objects 
quite distinctly some distance away. The little owl 
