THE WOODCHUCK 33 



my approach, but doubtless took me for some 

 water-fowl, or for some cousin of his of the 

 muskrat tribe ; for he went on with his feeding, 

 and regarded me not till I paused within ten feet 

 of him and lifted myself up. Then he did not 

 know me, having, perhaps, never seen Adam in 

 his simplicity, but he twisted his nose around 

 to catch my scent ; and the moment he had done 

 so he sprang like a jumping-jack and rushed into 

 his den with the utmost precipitation. 



The woodchuck is the true serf among our 

 animals ; he belongs to the soil, and savors of it. 

 He is of the earth, earthy. There is generally a 

 decided odor about his dens and lurking places, 

 but it is not at all disagreeable in the clover- 

 scented air ; and his shrill whistle, as he takes to 

 his hole or defies the farm dog from the interior 

 of the stone wall, is a pleasant summer sound. 

 In form and movement the woodchuck is not 

 captivating. His body is heavy and flabby. In- 

 deed, such a flaccid, fluid, pouchy carcass I have 

 never before seen. It has absolutely no muscu- 

 lar tension or rigidity, but is as baggy and shaky 

 as a skin filled with water. The legs of the 

 woodchuck are short and stout, and made for 

 digging rather than running. The latter opera- 

 tion he performs by short leaps, his belly scarcely 

 clearing the ground. For a short distance he 



