WHEN THE SNOW CAME 



we have a chance to see what they 

 may do. 



In the summer-time they stick close to 

 their meadows, living on succulent roots 

 and stems. They are especially fond of 

 tuberous roots of the wild morning-glory, 

 which they store by the pound in their 

 grass larders near their nests. But un- 

 der the welcome cover of the snow they 

 push their excursions far afield and their 

 netted-veined trails come even to your 

 house itself, though they rarely dispute 

 the wainscoting with the house mouse. 

 Now and then they do, however, and I 

 fancy they have no trouble in holding 

 their own against their slighter and more 

 aristocratic cousins. When they do 

 come you will know their presence by the 

 extraordinary noise of their gnawing. 

 Once a stone crusher, no less by the 

 sound, got into my garret, and after one 

 H7 



