CHAP. VII A WOODLAND CODGER 199 



Whether suited or unsuited to the life, the 

 Northern porcupine spends much of his time aloft, 

 sometimes remaining for weeks in a single big tree, 

 usually a hemlock. Curled up in some deep fork 

 or hollow, he dozes away the daylight, and at night 

 feeds upon twigs and leaves. Beginning at the 

 topmost spray, he will gnaw and clip away every 

 bit of fresh bark, sprouting twig and leaf, and 

 circle regularly downward, taking each branch in 

 succession out to its very tip, despite his weight 

 and awkwardness, by pulling the outermost twigs 

 within reach of his orange teeth, and continuing 

 until the whole tree has been despoiled of every 

 edible particle. Then, having literally eaten him- 

 self out of house and home, he chooses another tree 

 and repeats the process. Sometimes he knows of 

 better quarters in some hollow close by, and goes 

 and comes nightly ; but having found a tree-pasture 

 to his purpose, he rarely leaves it until it has been 

 denuded. This is more true of the winter, how- 

 ever, than the summer, for the animal does not 

 hibernate, though spells of extremest cold render 

 him temporarily inactive. Hearne says that in 

 the far North the Indians frequently leave them 

 in a tree "till a more convenient season," con- 

 fident that when they want them they can find 

 them. The species inhabits British America and 

 Alaska as far north as the forests extend. 



Yet they travel about somewhat, as is betrayed 

 by their baby-like footprints. They are flat-footed 



