THE BEECH WOODS 



or maple. What wild promptings 

 stirred these shadowy forms to ever 

 move with crafty vigilance upon their 

 endless journeys? No tentative pur- 

 suit was begun without the searching 

 of the forest ways with covert eyes and 

 listening ears, or upturned, delicate 

 nose to sense the presence of an enemy. 

 Sometimes the playful young cotton- 

 tails would scamper out into the bright 

 moonlight that lay in irregular patches 

 across their paths, or by the open fields 

 at the edge of the wood. But when the 

 fresh scent of lurking mink or weasel 

 crossed their trail, they used their one 

 great natural protection and sped away 

 on nimble feet in dodging leaps. 



Sometimes when the Night had 

 dreamed in moonlight past the mid- 

 night hours, a sleepy bird would awaken 

 strange echoes by pouring forth its full 

 song. How full of hope these little 

 feathered folk must be to overflow with 

 joy in the dark hours ; or, perhaps, they 

 dream of the bright sunshine and the 

 activities of the day and live them over 

 again, like the Neighbour's dog who 

 followed the chase again at night while 

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