CHAPTER XI. 

 SEPTEMBER SUNSHINE. 



My first ramble for the month was on the 12th. As 

 I passed down tlie clay-pit road a red squirrel stopped 

 and stared, sang sibilantly for ten seconds, and con- 

 cluded the utterance with a sharp twang, like the snap- 

 ping of a fiddle-string. This, I thought, was made by 

 stamping its hind-feet on the bark of the tree; at least 

 a movement of the limbs accompanied the sound. Then 

 the sibilant noise was repeated, followed by the trem- 

 bling legs and the abrupt twang! The whole perform- 

 ance was far more like the sound of machinery than 

 any caused by an animal, either vocally or mechanicallj'. 



It would need a botanist to determine the time of 

 year, judging by the surroundings. The animal life 

 certainly has, as yet, assumed no autumnal aspects. I 

 can find nothing to intimate that in a few weeks, per- 

 haps a few days, there will be a chilly northwest wind, 

 and then a frost. What preparation is being made goes 

 on very secretly. 



It is five days since I was last on the meadows and 

 took a hillside ramble, but five days can work a great 

 change. To-day the first of the large hawks made its 

 appearance. High overhead a pair of red-tailed buz- 

 zards floated, with apparently motionless wings, for 

 hours. They described gigantic circles without the quiv- 



