MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



tions of playfulness, but of all the merry sports 

 the running high-jump was certainly the most 

 popular. 



The more secluded brush-heaps are favorite 

 rabbit nurseries, but now and then an innocent- 

 looking little roughness in the turf of the open 

 represents the fur-lined nest of some happy cotton- 

 tail couple. On rare occasions, when we are cer- 

 tain that our investigations will not cause a panic, 

 we give ourselves the treat of a peep at the plump 

 little furry balls in their cosy shelter. But usual- 

 ly the parents have the satisfaction of thinking 

 their sweet secret undiscovered. 



You remember our carpenter friends the flick- 

 ers ? Let us wander toward the old maple where 

 we saw them working so industriously. There is 

 a surprise in store for you in that quarter. You 

 think you anticipate it? A sight of the devoted 

 parents carrying food to a family of funny, awk- 

 ward, half-clad babies, hidden safely away in the 

 heart of the tree ? But that is not what I would 

 show you. About two and a half feet below the 

 excavation at which the flickers were working 

 with such apparent pride and satisfaction when 

 you saw them last, you note another opening, a 

 more recent excavation. The little carpenters 



