180 RIVERBY 



the appearance of the muskrat upon the frigid De- 

 cember night. The woodchuck episode that afforded 

 us the most amusement occurred last summer. We 

 were at work in a newly-planted vineyard, when the 

 man with the cultivator saw, a few yards in front of 

 him, some large gray object that at first puzzled 

 him. He approached it, and found it to be an old 

 woodchuck with a young one in its mouth. She 

 was carrying her kitten as does a cat, by the nape of 

 the neck. Evidently she was moving her family to 

 pastures new. As the man was in the line of her 

 march, she stopped and considered what was to be 

 done. He called to me, and I approached slowly. 

 As the mother saw me closing in on her flank, she 

 was suddenly seized with a panic, and, dropping her 

 young, fled precipitately for the cover of a large pile 

 of grape-posts some ten or twelve rods distant. We 

 pursued hotly, and overhauled her as she was within 

 one jump of the house of refuge. Taking her by 

 the tail, I carried her back to her baby; but she 

 heeded it not. It was only her own bacon now 

 that she was solicitous about. The young one re- 

 mained where it had been dropped, keeping up a 

 brave, reassuring whistle that was in ludicrous con- 

 trast to its exposed and helpless condition. It was 

 the smallest woodchuck I had ever seen, not much 

 larger than a large rat. Its head and shoulders were 

 so large in proportion to the body as to give it a 

 comical look. It could not walk about yet, and had 

 never before been above ground. Every moment 

 or two it would whistle cheerily, as the old one does 



