224 UNDER THE OPEN SKY 



us who think that all that is best in an ani- 

 mal goes with his life, and who love animals 

 too much to shoot them ourselves, cannot 

 help but wish that more men were of our 

 way of thinking, and could enjoy the wood, 

 without the gun. For a walk in November, 

 like virtue, is its own reward. 



How quiet the woods are just now! The 

 brown leaves lie in some places almost knee- 

 deep, and there is a childlike joy in wading 

 through them, breaking thus, as they crackle 

 beneath our feet, a stillness that is some- 

 times almost oppressive. For about all of 

 our summer birds are gone now. It is true 

 a few others have taken their places, but 

 songs are practically unheard. The light 

 hammer of an occasional downy wood- 

 pecker, the gentler tapping of the nuthatch 

 hunting for larvae in the crevices of the bark 

 and chattering to himself in a wiry under- 

 tone as he runs up and down the branches 

 of the trees, the inquisitive pertness of the 

 golden-crowned kinglet, who in spring com- 

 monly keeps to the top of the trees but now 

 becomes sociable : these are the unobtrusive 



