48 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



can have an exhilarating race with the frightened creat- 

 ure. All of our non -hibernating mammals venture 

 abroad at night, and know full well the new highway 

 that firm ice ofifers them. The 'coon, opossum, otter, 

 mink, and weasel all make short-cuts over the frozen 

 creek, and no better chance to see them is ever afforded 

 than now. Exception should be made of the skunk. 

 He is uncertain, and my rule is to skate backward when 

 he puts in an appearance. 



There is a deep hole above the floodgates, where, in 

 winter, hosts of fishes congregate, instead of hibernat- 

 ing; where to fish throngh the ice is no child's play. 

 It is, in part, a question between fighting frost or mos- 

 quitoes ; and the former is, I think, the less formidable 

 foe. It is always practicable to have a fire either on 

 the ice or on shore, and numb fingers can there be 

 quickly restored ; much more quickly, indeed, than the 

 blotched and bitten digits that vex the gentle angler in 

 June. It is wonderful how full of spirit is the winter 

 pike, perch, or sucker. They seem to have acquired 

 additional strength with the increase of cold — to draw a 

 two-pound pike through a hole in the ice is a different 

 matter from switching him to land in midsummer. The 

 fact is, we have only the short line to hold, and have 

 but little advantage over the fish. At times I have had 

 them whirl round with astonishing rapidity and wear 

 away the cord as it pressed the sharp edge of the ice, 

 before I could draw them from the water. 



This little creek is at its best in winter, when the ice 

 is blue and without air-bubbles. At the old floodgates, 

 where the stream is of considerable width, I have often 



