UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 



As the little squirrel picks the corn from the floor 

 you can see the pouches swell, first on the one side, 

 then on the other. He seems to pick up the kernels 

 and swallow them. What part the tongue plays in 

 the process, one cannot see. In forcing a whole or a 

 half hickory-nut into them, the chipmunk uses his 

 Daws. The pouches are doubtless emptied by mus- 

 cular movements similar to those by which they 

 were filled — a self-acting piece of machinery, a 

 pocket that can fill and empty itself. 



I see my little hermit making frequent visits to 

 my study in the morning before I am seated there, 

 exploring the floor, the chair, the table, to see if the 

 miracle of the corn manna has not again happened. 

 He is anxious to be on hand as soon as it occurs. He 

 is no discriminator of persons. One morning a wo- 

 man friend took her seat in my chair with corn in 

 her lap and under her arched hand on the table, 

 and waited. Presently the little forager appeared 

 and climbed to her lap, and pushed under her hand, 

 as he had under mine. Another woman sat on the 

 cot a few feet away, and the two conversed in low 

 tones. The squirrel gave little heed to them, but 

 any movement of their hands or feet startled him. 

 One day I shifted my position from the table to 

 near the cot, with my extended feet near the en- 

 trance. The squirrel was in the act of coming in 

 when I made some slight movement. With that 

 characteristic chippering of his, he retreated hast- 



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