CHAP. VII A WOODLAND CODGER 199 
Whether suited or unsuited to the life, the 
Northern porcupine spends much of his time aloft, 
sometimes remaining for weeks in a single big tree, 
usually a hemlock. Curled up in some deep fork 
or hollow, he dozes away the daylight, and at night 
feeds upon twigs and leaves. Beginning at the 
topmost spray, he will gnaw and clip away every 
bit of fresh bark, sprouting twig and leaf, and 
circle regularly downward, taking each branch in 
succession out to its very tip, despite his weight 
and awkwardness, by pulling the outermost twigs 
within reach of his orange teeth, and continuing 
until the whole tree has been despoiled of every 
edible particle. Then, having literally eaten him- 
self out of house and home, he chooses another tree 
and repeats the process. Sometimes he knows of 
better quarters in some hollow close by, and goes 
and comes nightly; but having found a tree-pasture 
to his purpose, he rarely leaves it until it has been 
denuded. This is more true of the winter, how- 
ever, than the summer, for the animal does not 
hibernate, though spells of extremest cold render 
him temporarily inactive. Hearne says that in 
the far North the Indians frequently leave them 
in a tree “till a more convenient season,” con- 
fident that when they want them they can find 
them. The species inhabits British America and 
Alaska as far north as the forests extend. 
Yet they travel about somewhat, as is betrayed 
by their baby-like footprints. They are flat-footed 
