204 OUT OF DOORS. 



where he has laid up a store of food, scratches away 

 until he has disclosed his treasure of nuts, takes as much 

 as he needs, and returns to his home. Even when the 

 snow lies thickly on the groimd he is at no loss, but, 

 guided by some intuitive power, proceeds to the spot 

 with unerring certainty, scrapes away the snow, and 

 secures his meal. 



The squirrel has a distant relation, a kind of third 

 cousin once removed, well known under the title dor- 

 mouse, and often seen in cages, but not very frequently 

 in a wild state. This little creature is also one of the 

 hibernators, and has its warm nest in a thick bush, 

 much as the squirrel has its domicile in a tree, where it 

 sleeps its time away throughout the winter. Like the 

 squirrel, too, it has its store of food, not gathered into 

 the earth, but tucked away into sundry nooks and 

 crannies in the neighbourhood. The amount of food 

 which the dormouse takes during the winter, and the 

 frequency of its awakening, depend almost entirely on 

 the severity or mildness of the season. In a very sharp 

 winter the drowsy creature wakes but seldom, and very 

 little of its store is consumed, and indeed, even should 

 the season be mild, the inroads on the larder are but 

 few. The provisions are not gathered so much for the 

 winter as for the iSrst few weeks of spring, when the 

 animal has at last shaken off its long wintry sleep, 

 and returns to its own lively habits, nature not yet 

 having supplied it with a sufficiency of food whereon to 

 live. 



