SUMMER 



await the protective cover of the dark- 

 ness before they come forth to haunt 

 these endless trails, but the gray and 

 black squirrel keep the leaves and 

 litter of the woods constantly stirred 

 up in their favourite foraging grounds, 

 finding now and then a stray nut over- 

 looked from last season's crop. Often 

 through the day their harsh scoldings 

 can be heard from the large maples 

 as they whisk about the limbs in 

 friendly play, or more often when 

 family quarrels disturb their domestic 

 happiness. 



Somehow the woods seems quieter 

 as the Summer draws on. The army 

 of transient warblers, which passed 

 through early in the season for more 

 northerly climes, took with them that 

 animated chorus of song the woods 

 now lack. But other and more import- 

 ant business has come to occupy the 

 time. As if to strengthen this suppo- 

 sition, there comes from the pines to 

 the west of the woods a strange babble 

 of sound, a sort of choking gurgle 

 mingled with eager caws. The old 

 crows feeding their sturdy young, who 

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