TENANTS OF WINTER BIRDS' NESTS 



WHEN we realise how our lives are hedged 

 about by butchers, bakers, and luxury- 

 makers, we often envy the wild creatures their in- 

 dependence. And yet, although each animal is 

 capable of finding its own food and shelter and of 

 avoiding all ordinary danger, there is much de- 

 pendence, one upon another, among the little 

 creatures of fur and feathers. 



The first instinct of a gray squirrel, at the 

 approach of winter, is to seek out a deep, warm, 

 hollow limb, or trunk. Nowadays, however, these 

 are not to be found in every grove. The precepts 

 of modern forestry decree that all such unsightly 

 places must be filled with cement and creosote and 

 well sealed against the entrance of rain and snow. 

 When hollows are not available, these hardy squir- 

 rels prepare their winter home in another way. 

 Before the leaves have begun to loosen on their 

 stalks, the little creatures set to work. The crows 

 have long since deserted their rough nest of sticks 

 in the top of some tall tree, and now the squirrels 

 come, investigate, and adopt the forsaken bird's- 

 nest as the foundation of their home. The sticks 

 are pressed more tightly together, all interstices 

 filled up, and then a superstructure of leafy twigs 

 is woven overhead and all around. The leaves on 



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