Memories 



entrances, offering hospitality to any wild creature 

 in search of a weather-proof den or nesting-place. 



The first time I passed this old tree a family of 

 red squirrels were laying claim to it in a tiff with 

 some larger beast or bird, which slipped away as 

 I approached. The next time I saw it, a year 

 later, it was silent and apparently deserted; but 

 as I rose from drinking at the runlet the head of a 

 little gray owl appeared at a knot-hole. For full 

 ten minutes he remained there motionless, without 

 word or sign or even a blink to say that he was 

 watching me, though it was undoubtedly some 

 noise or stir of mine which brought him up to his 

 window. 



After that I fell in the way of turning aside to 

 loaf awhile under the inn-tree; and rarely could 

 one loaf there very long without overhearing 

 something not intended for a stranger's ear, some 

 low dialogue or hammering signal or petulant 

 whining or cautious scratching, to remind one 

 of the running comedy of the woods. It was 

 evidently an exchange, a crossroad or meeting- 

 place for the wood folk, calling in every passer-by 

 as a certain store or corner of a sleepy town in- 

 vites all idlers, boys and stray dogs, while other 

 stores or corners are empty, save for women folk, 

 and quite respectable. 



Once in the late morning, as I sat with an ear to 



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