The Record of the Snow 



devoured the edible part on the spot, scatter 

 ing the coffee-colored chips about him as 

 he eats. Chipmunks, apparently, do not ven 

 ture forth in the winter, unless some unusu 

 ally warm and springlike day rouses them 

 from their nap and calls them forth for a 

 bit of lunch to tide them over until April, 

 but the red squirrel is abroad at all seasons 

 and in all weathers. I have seem him break 

 fasting in the hemlocks, when the thermom 

 eter registered ten degrees below zero, and 

 often in a driving snowstorm his welcom 

 ing, cheery chatter would startle me as I 

 plunged through some evergreen clump, 

 head down against the storm, on my home 

 ward way. 



For a greater part of the winter the short- 

 legged skunk continues his diligent, preda 

 tory wading through the snow. You will 

 find plenty of his dotlike tracks in these 

 suburban- woods. He is a mighty hunter, 

 and a mightily persevering one, despite his 

 dumpy, Dutch build and abbreviated legs. 

 In the snow his trail looks like a succession 

 of black-spotted dice cubes, laid side by side, 

 so short and positive and ploddingly repe 

 titious are his steps. It seems ridiculous 



2OI 



