226 WILD NEIGHBORS CHAP. 



beating your hand with a whisk-broom, when the 

 farm-dog has discovered his retreat in the stone 

 fence." Rowland Robinson tells us that: "The 

 voiceless creature sometimes . . . frightens the 

 belated farm-boy, whom he curiously follows with 

 a mysterious hollow beating of his feet upon the 

 ground." Thoreau, as has been mentioned, heard 

 one keep up a " fine grunting, like a little pig or a 

 squirrel"; but he seems to have misunderstood 

 altogether a singular loud patting sound heard 

 repeatedly on the frozen ground under the wall, 

 which he also listened to, for he thought it "had to 

 do with getting its food, patting the earth to get 

 the insects or worms." Probably he would have 

 omitted this guess if he could have edited his 

 diary instead of leaving that to be done after his 

 death. The patting is evidently merely a nervous 

 sign of impatience or apprehension, similar to the 

 well-known stamping with the hind feet indulged 

 in by rabbits, in this case probably a menace 

 like a doubling of the fists, as the hind legs, with 

 which they kick, are their only weapons. The 

 skunk, then, is not voiceless, but its voice is weak 

 and querulous, and it is rarely if ever heard ex- 

 cept in the expression of anger. But I wish to 

 quote a few more sentences from Dr. Merriam's 

 story of his pet Meph : 



" His nest was in a box at the foot of the stairs, 

 and before he grew strong enough to climb out by 

 himself he would, whenever he heard me coming, 



