292 WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA 



things and somewhat uncertain. The real differ- 

 ence between them is that the squirrel, like the 

 hare, places his hind feet slightly in advance of his 

 fore feet. But, unlike the hare, the footprints are 

 scarcely separated. The mink when running does 

 not arch the back very much and goes in bounds, 

 landing the hind feet almost directly in the prints 

 made by the fore feet. When the snow is deep they 

 are often undistinguishable. If the mink has to go 

 under any obstacle, such as a bent tree or a fence 

 rail, instead of bounding, it walks, its body leaving 

 a deep furrow in the snow, for its legs are very 

 short. To follow a mink's track is usually to see 

 the mute story of a tragedy. Just some trampled 

 snow and a red stain. The whole method of 

 hunting is told by the snow. We see how they 

 follow a rabbit, taking every precaution not to 

 betray their presence while the wretched creature 

 feeds, for then it is alert ; how they follow it, as 

 described in the previous part of this chapter, to 

 where it sleeps beneath a log, an upturned roof or 

 the snow-covered top of a fallen tree, and then 

 stealthily creep on their unsuspecting prey ; how 

 sometimes the rustling of a dead leaf warns the 

 rabbit, who leaps forward, perhaps just in time to 

 avoid the furious onslaught of the unlovable mink, 

 though more often too late, in which case the red 

 stain tells us that the rabbit has been eaten where 

 it expected to sleep. All these things and so much 

 more we are told by the snow. If only we will use 

 our eyes we can learn more of the ways of animals in 

 a week of good snow than many months or even 

 years of summer. Should snow fall when the 



