WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



and the insect stores, packed away for safe-keep- 

 ing under the bark and in various crannies, were 

 sealed beyond the reach of the most persistent 

 beaks. The field-mice found that their tunnels, 

 bored just beneath the leaves while the snow cov- 

 ered them, were battered down; and the squirrels 

 dared not venture along their slippery runways in 

 the tree-tops, nor risk a leap from branch to branch. 



The house at that time was surrounded with 

 big trees, relics of ancient woods now almost en- 

 gulfed in the growing town; these were inhabited 

 by a large colony of gray squirrels, besides a few 

 red ones. I could see, here and there, a head poked 

 inquiringly out of a hole, or peering from the door 

 of one of the little cabins lodged among the oak 

 limbs; but not a single furry acrobat w r ould trust 

 himself to those glassy twigs, and I thought I 

 could detect an anxious expression in their big, 

 black eyes, as if they wondered how they were 

 going to get any breakfast. 



The squirrels had to endure their fast, but for 

 the birds something might be done. So we cracked 

 a handful of nuts, broke some corn into grains, 

 and threw these and the table-crumbs out by the 

 door. I had actually seen no birds about, save a 

 band of bluejays and a group of English sparrows 



90 



