A WHITE DAY AND A RED FOX 



tiny shrews got into an empty pail standing in 

 camp, and died before morning, either from the 

 cold, or in despair of ever getting out of the pail. 



At one point, around a small sugar maple, the 

 mice-tracks are unusually thick. It is doubtless 

 their granary ; they have beech-nuts stored there, 

 I'll warrant. There are two entrances to the cav- 

 ity of the tree, one at the base, and one seven or 

 eight feet up. At the upper one, which is only just the 

 size of a mouse, a squirrel has been trying to break 

 in. He has cut and chiseled the solid wood to the 

 depth of nearly an inch, and his chips strew the 

 snow all about. He knows what is in there, and 

 the mice know that he knows; hence their appar- 

 ent consternation. They have rushed wildly about 

 over the snow, and, I doubt not, have given the 

 piratical red squirrel a piece of their minds. A few 

 yards away the mice have a hole down into the 

 snow, which perhaps leads to some snug den under 

 the ground. Hither they may have been slyly re- 

 moving their stores while the squirrel was at work 

 with his back turned. One more night and he will 

 effect an entrance : what a good joke upon him if 

 he finds the cavity empty ! These native mice are 

 very provident, and, I imagine, have to take many 

 precautions to prevent their winter stores being 

 plundered by the squirrels, who live, as it were, 

 from hand to mouth. 



We see several fresh fox-tracks, and wish for the 

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