THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



the season. His active life stretches from the vernal 

 equinox to the autumnal equinox, and that is about 

 all. Half the year he is imder ground, and at least 

 half of each summer day. No wonder his flesh is 

 rank with the earth flavor. He appears to live only 

 to accumulate his winter store of fat. Apparently 

 he comes out of his den in summer only to feed, and 

 maybe occasionally to bask in the sunshine. He is 

 never sportive or discursive like the birds and squir- 

 rels. Life is a very serious business with him, and 

 he has reduced it to the lowest terms — eat, breed, 

 and sleep. If woodchucks ever engage in any sort 

 of play, like other wild creatures, I never have seen 

 them, though I once had a tame young 'chuck that 

 would play with the kitten. 



The woodchuck probably sleeps more than half 

 the time in summer; he economizes his precious fat. 

 Only once have I seen his tracks on the snow. This 

 was in late December; and, following them up, I 

 found the woodchuck wandering about the meadow 

 like one half demented. Something had evidently 

 gone wrong with him. Apparently he had not 

 succeeded in storing up his usual amoumt of fat. 

 He showed little fight, and we picked him up 

 by the tail, put him into the sleigh, and brought 

 him home. A place under the barn floor was 

 given to him, but he did not long survive. All 

 the glory of the fall, the heyday of the 'coon and 

 the squirrels, the woodchuck misses. No golden 

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