124 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



ground-hemlock (or "snake bush," as we call it in 

 Massachusetts) the Taxus Canadensis. It is eaten 

 down to the last leaf, as close to the snow as if a scythe 

 had been swept over it. The snow is covered with the 

 unmistakable hoof-prints of deer. These tracks are 

 fresh. The deer were here last night, two of them at 

 least, for two tracks lead off to the west, the larger one 

 trailing the hind feet a trifle, in snow more than six 

 inches deep, showing it to be made by a buck. The doe 

 picks her feet up cleaner. She is the high stepper of the 

 family. She also toes straight ahead, while the buck 

 toes out a trifle, a reversal of the typical human couple. 



Now there is a break in the woods, for we are in 

 populous New England. We come into cleared land, 

 into a farm. An old orchard, much neglected, runs 

 along behind a stone wall close to the road. As we 

 come down through this orchard we again find deer 

 tracks, quantities of them. There is every indication 

 that the deer were here last night pawing up the snow 

 under the gnarled old trees for the frozen windfalls on 

 the ground below. Bits of frozen rotten apples are left 

 here and there to tell the tale. Last night, while the 

 farmer was sleeping, or even, perhaps, while there was 

 still a light in his window, the deer came into his 

 orchard to feed, and one of them, when a horse stamped 

 in the stable, raised his head and stood a shadowy, 

 beautiful statue of eternal vigilance. 



Crossing the road and the pasture, we shall find yet 



