52 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



ing at intervals and gazing upward, I finally see 

 a bit of something fall from a tall maple whose 

 base is near the top of the bank on my left. 

 Soon some twigs in its very tiptop are seen 

 shaking and then a glimpse of a brownish-gray 

 bunch is had. Up jumps Samantha to my 

 shoulder. 'Tis a long shot, but I let her go. 

 There is a jump and a scramble by the squirrel 

 for terra firma and some other tree. Half way 

 down he changes his mind for I too am scram- 

 bling up the steep bank to head him off. Reach- 

 ing the top I see nothing of him on the ground 

 and so conclude he is still in the tree, perhaps 

 in a hole. A close scrutiny of every limb and 

 square foot of bole then begins. Yes, there he 

 is, stretched out as flat as possible on a hori- 

 zontal limb, sixty feet above the ground, with 

 just enough of his body showing to penetrate. 

 Another shot and down he comes. Murder has 

 been committed but my dinner is assured. Thus 

 ever doth the weaker succumb to the stronger. 

 Thus from the beginning hath one mammal been 

 sacrificed that its stored energy may be used to 

 rejuvenate and quicken the life blood coursing 

 through another mammal's veins. 



Though a naturalist I thus kill at times for 

 sustenance, as the squirrel, the rabbit and the 

 wild duck; or for study, as the butterfly, the 

 beetle or the cricket, but nevermore, as when a 

 youth, for pure wantonness ; nevermore to see the 



