SHREWS 



and pouncing like a tiger on a fat green cater- 

 pillar that falls from a plant. Where there 

 is one shrew there is sure to be another, and 

 soon a second will come dashing along, squeak- 

 ing shrilly as it crosses the trail of the first. 

 For its size there is no creature so fierce and 

 active as the shrew. When watching a spot 

 where there are three or four shrews, it seems 

 as if the ground is alive with them. One day 

 I saw a shrew slip across an open space, so 

 sitting down on a fallen tree I waited and 

 watched for a few moments. Another soon 

 appeared, a grey-brown shadow sliding in and 

 out of the rustling leaves ; then a third 

 dashed across, and yet a fourth, until it seemed 

 as if there must be dozens about, though per- 

 haps there were really not more than two or 

 three, but they came and went so quickly 

 it seemed as if there were a great many running 

 to and fro. Whenever one crossed the path 

 of another their shrill squeaks rose on the still 

 air, but I saw no fighting (though they often 

 fight like little demons), but it seemed they 

 were busy looking for food and had no time 

 for any thing further than rude remarks. But 

 they abused each other all the time squeak ! 

 squeak ! squeak ! they went as they raced to 



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