OCTOBER 



19 



I hear the alarum of a small red squirrel, and 

 see him running by fits and starts along a chest- 

 nut bough toward me. . . . He chirrups and vi- 

 brates his tail, holds himself in, and scratches 

 along a foot as if it was a mile. . . . He gets 

 down the trunk at last upon a projecting knob, 

 head downward, within a rod of you, and chirrups 

 and chatters louder than ever, trying to work him- 

 self into a fright. The hind part of his body is 

 urging the forward part along, snapping the tail 

 over it like a whiplash, but the fore part mostly 

 clings fast to the bark with desperate energy. 



THOREAU: Autumn. 



2O 



Now and for some weeks is the time for flocks 

 of sparrows of various kinds flitting from bush to 

 bush and tree to tree (and both bushes and trees 

 are thinly leaved or bare), and from one seared 

 meadow to another. They are mingled together 

 and their notes even, being faint, are, as well as 

 their colors and motions, much alike. The spar- 

 row youth are on the wing. They are still further 

 concealed by their resemblance in color to the 

 gray twigs and stems which are now beginning to 



be bare. 



THOREAU: Autumn. 



