THE SHORT-TAILED FIELD VOLE 



doors. As there was now only the one mother 

 and the six young ones left, I took them out 

 into the garden and set them free in some 

 long grass. They slipped away like brown 

 shadows between the stems, and that was the 

 last that was seen of them. 



How quaint and amusing they had been, 

 perhaps their funniest habit being that of 

 taking jam or honey off the end of a pencil. 

 I have already mentioned how fond of sweet 

 things they were, so when we wanted to give 

 them a treat my brother and I used to dip the 

 end of a pencil into the honey jar, and then 

 hold it towards one of the voles, when, standing 

 up on its hind legs, it would take the pencil in 

 its fore paws and carefully lick off every trace 

 of sweet stuff. 



A point that always struck me was the good 

 nature of Billie, who never interfered with or 

 otherwise ill-treated any of the many young 

 ones that were continually running about the 

 cage. He never showed the least bad temper 

 with them, but field voles are in general very 

 easy-going creatures, and it is only strangers 

 who are attacked. Just before I turned the 

 old female out, a new female was put in her 

 cage, thinking that she might be glad of the 



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