THE SHORT-TAILED FIELD-MOUSE. 615 



But if a more attentive observer finds that in a few seconds the 

 ruddy patch has changed its place, his suspicions are at once 

 aroused, and he examines the moving tint more curiously. He 

 must, however, keep his eye upon it as he moves toward it, for if 

 he once lose sight of it he will in all probability miss it altogether, 

 and think that his eye must have deceived him. 



Toward the evening, however, the Campagnol is less fearful, 

 and not only traverses the fields, but ascends the shrubs and 

 plants in search of food. It climbs nearly as well as a squirrel, 

 its sharp nails hooking themselves into every irregularity of the 

 bark, and its long, finger-like toes clasping round the grass stems 

 and little twigs like the paws of a monkey. An autumnal even- 

 ing is the best time for watching the Campagnol, and if the ob- 

 server will only remain perfectly quiet, and keep a good opera- 

 glass in readiness, he will be greatly interested by the little ani- 

 mal. A hedge in which are plenty of dog-roses is a likely place 

 for the Campagnol, as the animal is very fond of the ripe hips, 

 and ascends the shrubs in search of its daily food. When it 

 reaches the branch, bending with the scarlet load, the mouse runs 

 swiftly and sure-footed as a rope-dancer, and carries off a store of 

 the fruit, partly for present consumption and partly for a stock of 

 winter food. 



For the little creature is not one of the hibernating animals, 

 or, at all events, the semi-sleep is of so light a character that the 

 mouse comes often abroad, even in the depth of winter. It is 

 undeterred by severe frost, and takes little heed of snow, as is 

 proved by its tiny footmarks being tracked in the white and 

 yielding substance. 



This little mouse makes two kinds of nest, one for the winter 

 and another for the summer. The winter nest is below ground, 

 and is approached by a hole varying much in length. As the 

 cavity in which the nest reposes is larger than the tunnel, and of 

 a globular form, it is mostly usurped by the wasp when the Mouse 

 deserts it for summer quarters. Sometimes it is placed at some 

 depth in the ground, but usually is only a few inches from the 

 surface. This is the nest to which Burns refers in his well-known 

 poem upon the Field-mouse whose nest he had inadvertently 

 plowed up. 



Besides the winter nest itself, the animal has a store-house or 

 cellar in which are placed the provisions intended for winter use, 

 when the weather prohibits the Mouse from leaving its home, or 



