that had been killed the night before in one of 

 the islander's chicken-coops. 



The skunk is no epicure. The matter of eat- 

 ing one's husband or wife, one's father or mother, 

 has never struck the skunk as out of the ordinary. 

 As far as my observation goes, the supreme ques- 

 tion with him is, Can this thing be swallowed? 

 Such thoughts as, What is it? How does it taste? 

 Will it digest? Is it good form?— no skunk since 

 the line began ever allowed to interfere with his 

 dinner. An enviable disregard, this of dietetics ! 

 To eat everything with a relish ! If the testi- 

 mony of Maine farmers can be credited, this ani- 

 mal is absol utely omnivorous. During the winter 

 the skunks burrow and sleep, several of them 

 in the same hole. When they go in they are as 

 fat as September woodchucks ; but long before 

 spring, the farmers tell me, the skunks grow 

 so lean and hungry that, turning cannibal, they 

 fall upon their weaker comrades and devour 

 them, only the strongest surviving until the 

 spring. 



In August, along the Kennebec, I found the 

 skunks attacking the sugar corn. They strip the 

 ears that hang close to the ground, and gnaw the 

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