THE CHIPMUNK 147 



yards away from his hole, turn and retreat with all 

 speed. As he darted beneath the sod, a shrike 

 swooped down and hovered a moment on the wing 

 just over the hole where he had disappeared. I 

 doubt if the shrike could have killed him, but it 

 certainly gave him a good fright. 



It was amusing to watch this chipmunk carry nuts 

 and other food into his den. He had made a well- 

 defined path from his door out through the weeds 

 and dry leaves into the territory where his feeding- 

 ground lay. The path was a crooked one ; it dipped 

 under weeds, under some large, loosely piled stones, 

 under a pile of chestnut posts, and then followed 

 the remains of an old wall. Going and coming, his 

 motions were like clockwork. He always went by 

 spurts and sudden sallies. He was never for one 

 moment off his guard. He would appear at the 

 mouth of his den, look quickly about, take a few 

 leaps to a tussock of grass, pause a breath with one 

 foot raised, slip quickly a few yards over some dry 

 leaves, pause again by a stump beside a path, rush 

 across the path to the pile of loose stones, go under 

 the first and over the second, gain the pile of posts, 

 make his way through that, survey his course a half 

 moment from the other side of it, and then dart on 

 to some other cover, and presently beyond my range, 

 where I think he gathered acorns, as there were no 

 other nut-bearing trees than oaks near. In four or 

 five minutes I would see him coming back, always 

 keeping rigidly to the course he took going out, 

 pausing at the same spots, darting over or under the 



