260 Woodchuck and Grebe [SECOND WEEK 



summer days he lies on his warm earthen hillock at 

 the entrance of his burrow. His fat body seems almost 

 to flow dcwn the slope, and when he waddles around for 

 a nibble of clover it is with such an effort that we feel 

 sure he would prefer a comfortable slow starvation, were 

 it not for the unpleasant feelings involved in such a pro- 

 ceeding. 



As far as I know there are but two things which can 

 rouse a woodchuck to strenuous activity; when a dog is 

 in pursuit he can make his stumpy feet fairly twinkle as 

 he flies for his burrow, and when a fox or a man is digging 

 him out, he can literally worm his way through the ground, 

 frequently escaping by means of his wonderful digging 

 power. But when September or October days bring the 

 first chill, he gives one last yawn upon the world and 

 stows himself away at the farthest end of his tunnel, there 

 to sleep away the winter. Little more does he know of 

 the snows and blizzards than the bird which has flown to 

 the tropics. Even storing up fruits or roots is too great 

 an effort for the indolent woodchuck, and in his hiberna- 

 tion stupor he draws only upon the fat which his lethargic 

 summer life has accumulated within his skin. 



As we might expect from a liver of such a slothful life, 

 the family traits of the woodchuck are far from admirable 

 and there is said to be little affection shown by the mother 

 woodchuck toward her young. The poor little fellows are 

 pushed out of the burrow and driven away to shift for 

 themselves as soon as possible. Many of them must come 

 to grief from hawks and foxes. Closely related to the 

 squirrels, these large marmots (for they are first cousins 



