WILDWOOD WAYS 



and eat nuts out of your hand, answer- 

 ing any prearranged signal, such as 

 whacking them together or chirping to 

 him. 



Even though you are a total stranger 

 he will not hesitate to whisk out of his 

 hole under the brush heap right in your 

 face and eyes, whisking back again in 

 great terror, no doubt, but immediately 

 putting out his whiskered nose to sniff 

 and wrinkle it in comical confusion, half 

 friendly, half frightened. So I had but 

 to wait a moment before little Tamias 

 striatus was out from under the brush 

 pile and had flipped over to a fallen log, 

 ploughing the soft snow off the end of it 

 in a comically frantic rush to his hole 

 there, the entrance being snowed up. He 

 was in and out again in a jiffy, standing 

 on his hind legs and peering over the log 

 and making noses at me, jumping to the 



