Vill THE SKUNK, CALMLY CONSIDERED 227 
stand on his hind legs with his paws resting on 
the edge of the box, and beg to be carried up 
stairs. If I passed by without appearing to notice 
him, he invariably became much enraged and chip- 
pered and scolded away at a great rate, stamping, 
meanwhile, most vehemently. ... He was very 
sprightly and frolicsome, and used to hop about 
the floor and run from room to room in search of 
something to play with... . During the evening 
he occasionally assumed a cunning mood, and 
would steal softly up to my chair, and standing 
erect would claw at my pants once or twice, and 
then scamper off as fast as his little legs could 
carry him, evidently anxious to have me give 
chase. If I refused to follow, he was soon back, 
ready to try some new scheme to attract my 
attention.” 
The food of the skunks is wholly of animal ori- 
gin, and I have never known or heard of one eat- 
ing anything vegetable. The staple of their fare 
in summer is insects of every sort, mainly beetles, 
grasshoppers, and the like, for they do not seem 
to care to unearth worms and grubs to any great 
extent. Thoreau remarks (“ Early Spring in Mas- 
sachusetts,” p. 105): “It has a remarkably long, 
narrow, pointed head and [flesh-colored] snout, 
which enable it to make those deep narrow holes 
in the earth by which it probes for insects.” This 
is news. The snout is exceedingly pig-like—a 
fact especially noticeable when a carcass has been 
