48 BEACH GRASS 



thicket in the dunes I was listening to the 

 sizzling of bacon in my frying-pan. Suddenly 

 I was aroused from my pleasant anticipations by 

 the sound of crashing among the bushes, and, 

 looking up, I saw the white tails of two deer 

 vanishing in the gloom of the timber. Whether 

 I saw the forms of the deer themselves or merely 

 imagined I did, can not be set down here with 

 certitude, but I doubt very much if I should 

 have seen the deer at all, had it not been for their 

 conspicuous alarm signals. 



On a cold February day I followed the tracks 

 of a deer that ascended the narrow ridge of a 

 dune. The other side of the dune went down 

 steeply and was covered with glare ice, except in 

 one place where hard snow gave my snowshoes 

 a foot-hold. The deer, however, had kept on his 

 course and had descended over the ice. There 

 were deep and long furrows in the snows at the 

 foot of the slide, scratches on the ice and an 

 abundance of rubbed-off deer's hairs. It was 

 plain he had fallen and slid on his side. Deer 

 are not so very wise after all, I reflected; they 

 are very human. 



