278 WILD NEIGHBORS CHAP, 
on they restrict their roving, seek a permanent 
abode, and in the coldest weather hibernate com- 
pletely. This, however, is only in the North, and 
even there they are liable to awake and stir around 
during warm spells, and usually emerge from their 
torpidity in February or early March. They sleep 
with their heads curled down against their stom- 
achs and with their faces protected by the furry 
wrap of the tail, so that they are mere balls of fur. 
That they are often abroad in winter is manifest 
from the mark in the snow of their feet, which 
have five toes both before and behind. 
These tracks show that, although the animal is 
plantigrade, and when quiet stands on the whole 
soles of his feet, like a bear, when he walks he 
treads only on his toes. 
The raccoon eats anything he can get hold of; 
and Kennicott has summed up the matter so 
tersely that I cannot do better than quote his 
concise phrases. 
“The raccoon,” he says, “is omnivorous. It eats 
flesh of any kind, preying upon small birds and 
mammals, when it can catch them, and sometimes 
making destructive forays into the poultry-yard. 
It devours birds’ eggs whenever within reach, pro- 
curing the eggs of woodpeckers by thrusting its 
paws into their holes; it also watches turtles when 
depositing their eggs in the sand, and, upon their 
departure, digs them up. This animal is fond of 
fish, and displays remarkable dexterity in capturing 
\ 
