98 THE TREE BOOK 



of their kin have been dubbed "spruce," in rec- 

 ognition of their formality. 



Here and yonder, under the sheltering bougl],s, 

 where the snow lies fold on fold in soft, fleecy 

 blankets, go the tracks of countless little wood 

 creatures in search of food and adventure. 

 "Here," says one delightful writer, "are the 

 delicate marks made by birds ' light feet. Here, 

 perhaps, is the track 'of a fox, much like that of 

 a dog, but with sweeps of the brush among the 

 footmarks. Scattered fem-shaped prints show 

 which way Brer Babbit wandered in his search 

 for food. The little shrew and field mice, creep- 

 ing over the surface, leave their marks like dou- 

 ble stitching on a white coverlet. Here, too, 

 one may see the little pairs of footprints which 

 show which way the squirrel ran." Here, also, 

 are the trails of the mink and the weasel, much 

 like those of the squirrel, save that the mark 

 of the animal's long slender body stretches be- 

 tween every other pair. And here, a little apart 

 from the others, is the odd little track of the 

 coon, like the print of a baby's hand, in the 

 snow under the trees. 



Under the blanket of snow and the deep 

 masses of leaves, lie the eggs and cocoons of 

 little insects which will rouse in the spring to 

 feed upon the trees. Down there, too, are the 



