IX 



A CLEVER BEASTIE 



1 NEVER seem to tire of writing and talking 

 about the chipmunk. He is a friend of my boy- 

 hood. When I saw one last winter down in Georgia, 

 I felt as if we were exiles together, but he was prob- 

 ably much more at home in that fenceless country 

 than I was. 



The chipmunk is undoubtedly the best-beloved 

 of all our lesser rodents, and more persons probably 

 have friendly intimacies with him than with any 

 other of our four-footed wild creatures. He is such a 

 pretty little animal, so bright, so alert, so clean and 

 well-groomed, not a hair missing or out of place; 

 and the penciled lines on his back are so distinct and 

 pleasing — seven lines, two pairs of three each, one 

 light and two dark, on either side, with a dark line 

 between them running down the middle of the back. 

 None other of our little rodents has such a pretty 

 coat or such pretty ways, and no other is so harm- 

 less about our homes and farms. 



During my youth in the Catskills, when there 

 were at least ten chipmunks where there is only one 

 now, he was usually pretty hard put to it for food 

 in May and early June, and was at times guilty of 

 digging up the newly planted corn. V^en the sprouts 



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