IN FIELD AND WOOD 



Morning, noon, and night I see the squirrels feeding 

 in the elms about my cabin, and see the road strewn 

 with the elm-flakes from which the germ in the 

 centre has been cut. 



Do they know an elm-tree when they see it, or do 

 they explore all the trees in quest of food? If, again, 

 I belonged to the new school of nature writers, I 

 should say they know an elm as well as you or I, and 

 the date on which the seeds are edible, and that 

 they taught this wood-lore to their young. But, as it 

 is, I will only venture to say that at this season there 

 they are in the topmost branches of the scattered 

 elms, very busy with these green scales, reaching and 

 swaying and hanging by their hind feet, or sitting 

 up in that pretty way with tails over backs and 

 hands deftly submitting the samara to the teeth. 



The red squirrel is much more of a " hustler " 

 than is the gray, and will make shift to live where 

 the latter will starve. The red squirrel abides, while 

 the gray seems to go and come with the seasons of 

 scarcity or of plenty. Yet I have seen the gray eating 

 the fruit of the poison-ivy and apparently relish- 

 ing it. But he rarely disturbs the birds, though 

 of this misdemeanor he is probably not entirely 

 innocent. 



Small things, small doings, train our powers of 



observation. The big things all can see. Who sees 



the finer, shyer play of wild life that goes on about 



us? Not all of nature's book is writ large; the fine 



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