58 Winter Holes [FOURTH WEEK 



ters, with dispositions taking them here and there through 

 the winter nights, to whom, at break of day, a hole is ever 

 a sought-for haven. 



So do not put your hand too recklessly into an owl 

 hole, for a hiss and a sudden nip may show that an opos- 

 sum has taken up his quarters there. If you must, pull 

 him out by his squirming, naked tail, but do not carry 

 him home, as he makes a poor pet, and between hen-house 

 traps and irate farmers he has good reason, in this part 

 of the country at least, to be short tempered. 



Of course the birds' -nests are all deserted now, but 

 do not be too sure of the woodpeckers' holes. The 

 little downy and his larger cousin, the hairy wood- 

 pecker, often spend the winter nights snug within deep 

 cavities which they have hollowed out, each bird for 

 itself. I have never known a pair to share one of these 

 shelters. 



Sometimes, in pulling off the loose bark from a decayed 

 stump, several dry, flattened scales will fall out upon the 

 snow among the debris of wood and dead leaves. Hold 

 them close in the warm palm of your hand for a time and 

 the dried bits will quiver, the sides partly separate, and 

 behold! you have brought back to life a beautiful Euvanessa, 

 or mourning-cloak butterfly. Lay it upon the snow and 

 soon the awakened life will ebb away and it will again be 

 stiff, as in death. If you wish, take it home, and you 

 may warm it into activity, feed it upon a drop of syrup 

 and freeze it again at will. Sometimes six or eight of 

 these insects may be found sheltered under the bark of a 

 single stump, or in a hollow beneath a stone. Several 



