THE CHIPxMUNK 147 



goings and comings, one October morning, I 

 saw him, when a few yards away from his hole, 

 turn and retreat with all speed. As he darted 

 beneath the sod, a shrike swooped down and 

 hovered a moment on the wing just over the 

 hole where he had disappeared. I doubt if the 

 shrike could have killed him, but it certainly 

 gave him a good fright. 



It was amusing to watch this chipmunk carry 

 nuts and other food into his den. He had 

 made a well-defined path from his door out 

 through the weeds and dry leaves, into the ter- 

 ritory where his feeding ground lay. The 

 path was a crooked one ; it dipped under weeds, 

 under some large loosely piled stones, under a 

 pile of chestnut posts, and then followed the 

 remains of an old wall. Going and coming, 

 his motions were like clockwork. He always 

 went by spurts and sudden sallies. He was 

 never for one moment off his guard. He 

 would appear at the mouth of his den, look 

 quickly about, take a few leaps to a tussock of 

 grass, pause a breath with one foot raised, slip 

 quickly a few yards over some dry leaves, pause 

 again by a stump beside a path, rush across the 

 path to the pile of loose stones, go under the 

 first and over the second, gain the pile of posts, 

 make his way through that, survey his course a 

 half moment from the other side of it, and then 

 dart on to some other cover, and presently be- 

 yond my range, where I think he gathered 

 acorns, as there were no other nut-bearing trees 

 than oaks near. In four or five minutes I 



