302 VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



grow my brethren, plucking the ripe nuts, and filling their 

 pockets, as they run from bush to bush, or shaking them 

 from out the husks, and, alas for us, frequently crushing 

 down some of our finest branches. Our nuts, also, furnish 

 winter stores to the light-hearted squirrel, who comes 

 bounding from his nest in a hollow tree, to select the 

 largest and the best ; the field-mouse, in like manner, 

 searches warily among the herbage for such as have fallen 

 unobserved. You may see her, stealing with timid steps 

 from her small nest, listening as if half afraid, and ready 

 to run back on the slightest noise. Yet neither the mouse 

 nor squirrel venture to visit our growing-places, while boys 

 are within sight or hearing, nor yet the shy and solitary 

 nut-hatch, who lays her eggs in hollows that have been 

 deserted by the woodpecker. They each prefer my nuts 

 to either beech-mast or acorns, and gather them for their 

 winter hoards ; and very curious it is to observe their differ- 

 ent methods of opening them in accordance with their 

 respective instincts. 



