THE CHIPMUNK 27 



One season a chipmunk had his den in the 

 side of the terrace above my garden, and spent 

 the mornings laying in a store of corn which he 

 stole from a field ten or twelve rods away. In 

 traversing about half this distance, the little 

 poacher was exposed ; the first cover on the way 

 from his den was a large maple, where he always 

 brought up and took a survey of the scene. I 

 would see him spinning along toward the maple, 

 then from it by an easy stage to the fence ad- 

 joining the corn ; then back again with his 

 booty. One morning I paused to watch him 

 more at my leisure. He came up out of his 

 retreat and cocked himself up to see what my 

 motions meant. His forepaws were clasped to 

 his breast precisely as if they had been hands, 

 and the tips of the fingers thrust into his vest 

 pockets. Having satisfied himself with reference 

 to me, he sped on toward the tree. He had 

 nearly reached it, when he turned tail and 

 rushed for his hole with the greatest precipita- 

 tion. As he neared it, I saw some bluish object 

 in the air closing in upon him with the speed of 

 an arrow, and, as he vanished within, a shrike 

 brought up in front of the spot, and with spread 

 wings and tail stood hovering a moment, and, 

 looking in, then turned and went away. Appar- 

 ently it was a narrow escape for the chipmunk, 



