THE SNOW-WALKERS 



His home is in the trunk of some old birch or 

 maple, with an entrance far up amid the branches. 

 In the spring he builds himself a summer-house of 

 small leafy twigs in the top of a neighboring beech, 

 where the young are reared and much of the time 

 is passed. But the safer retreat in the maple is not 

 abandoned, and both old and young resort thither 

 in the fall, or when danger threatens. Whether 

 this temporary residence amid the branches is for 

 elegance or pleasure, or for sanitary reasons or do- 

 mestic convenience, the naturalist has forgotten to 

 mention. 



The elegant creature, so cleanly in its habits, so 

 graceful in its carriage, so nimble and daring in its 

 movements, excites feelings of admiration akin to 

 those awakened by the birds and the fairer forms 

 of nature. His passage through the trees is almost 

 a flight. Indeed, the flying squirrel has little or no 

 advantage over him, and in speed and nimbleness 

 cannot compare with him at all. If he miss his 

 footing and fall, he is sure to catch on the next 

 branch; if the connection be broken, he leaps reck- 

 lessly for the nearest spray or limb, and secures his 

 hold, even if it be by the aid of his teeth. 



His career of frolic and festivity begins in the 

 fall, after the birds have left us and the holiday 

 spirit of nature has commenced to subside. How 

 absorbing the pastime of the sportsman who goes 

 to the woods in the still October morning in quest 

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