This glen is their world, and yet they possess it 

 and live in it in virtue of persistent self-effacement. 



There are mice and shrews, chipmunks, red and 

 gray squirrels, a woodchuck or two, a skunk, a 

 little gray rabbit, a weasel and a mink. Far from 

 being alone, you are watched by numerous un- 

 blinking eyes. From the grass, the rocks, the 

 trees, motionless and in silence these creatures are 

 observing you. 



The squirrels have overcome somewhat their 

 hereditary fear, doubtless because we are more 

 kindly disposed to them. As I take my lunch 

 from my pocket, thinking to eat it alone, a chip- 

 munk approaches and sniffs at the package as I 

 put it down. The aroma of bread and butter 

 tickles his nostrils, suggesting some unaccustomed 

 variety of fare, and presently he loses all fear and 

 begins tearing the paper. After a little coaxing he 

 takes a piece of bread from my hand, licking the 

 butter off first with his small pink tongue. He 

 has no sooner eaten it than another chipmunk 

 appears and sniffs the whiskers of the first one. 

 He, too, is overcome by the sedudtive aroma, and 

 apparently receives some assurances, for he cau- 

 tiously approaches and takes a morsel of bread. 



