230 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



haunt, the muck swamp farther up. There, 

 after a good Sunday dinner with M., we went 

 and found E. listing plants. A rain soon 

 threatened" and we sought the shelter of the tent, 

 where we were kept till after four. 



While there M. and E. discussed the habits 

 of raccoons in seeking food. Both had in times 

 past made pets of these animals and had taken 

 them along the streams to hunt crawfish, which 

 are the especial dainties of a raccoon's bill of 

 fare. They do not look for the crawfish, but 

 feel for them, and while so doing keep the head 

 turned to one side, looking backwards. In every 

 crack and cranny along the shallow water, be- 

 neath the edges of stones, dead leaves and 

 chunks they search. When they touch a craw- 

 fish they instantly make a dive and if successful 

 grasp it with the fore-paw or hand, then, before 

 swallowing it, roll it between both paws until 

 the large claws are loosened and the hard crust 

 well broken. Meanwhile they keep up a pecul- 

 iar little purring grunt of exultation or of sat- 

 isfaction. If a tartar in the shape of an old 

 crawfish with big claws is captured and pinches 

 the coon, he gives it a jerk far away and pays 

 no farther attention to it, eating only the small- 

 er, more tender young ones. 



E. said that on one occasion he took his pet to 

 a bumble-bees' nest. There as the bees emerged 

 the raccoon caught them one by one, rolled them 



