WHEN THE SNOW CAME 



chestnuts had lain open to the sky for 

 months, but he dared not go into the 

 open path to get them. Fox, cat, skunk, 

 weasel, hawk, owl, crow, all watched the 

 paths and the edges of the thick grass 

 for him. He must burrow or die. So he 

 does burrow all the year through, just 

 beneath the surface, in dirt if he must, 

 under light leaves and brush and matted 

 grasses by preference, for there he may 

 go the more easily and quickly to his food. 

 His eyesight and hearing are good, and 

 he moves like a little brown flash when 

 he has to go into the open. 



If I wish to see him I watch well-worn 

 footpaths through matted grass and 

 leaves. Here his tunnels end on one side 

 of the path and begin on the other and 

 he takes the chance of crossing this risky 

 opening to sun and sky as often as he 

 feels he must, but he wrecks the speed 



