A DAY IN AN OLD ORCHARD. 139 
was saddled on the upper side of a dry limb, but almost 
hidden by other green branches. It was the daintiest 
little bit, of architecture, exquisitely lined, and orna- 
mented on the outside with patches of green moss, so 
as almost exactly to resemble the color of the limb. 
A high wind in the fall broke off the branch, which 
my friend saved for me, with the nest still firmly 
attached. 
While I was sitting on the fence, listening to a flock 
of gold finches overhead in a tree, I saw a large wood- 
chuck in the adjoining clover field come out of his bur- 
row under an oak to feed on the clover. I kept quiet 
until he was quite as far from his burrow, triangularly 
as I was, when I concluded to give him a race. He 
saw the movement and started for the oak. I hada 
little the advantage in the distance and kept it, and 
stuck my foot into the entrance of the burrow just 
ahead of him. He seemed to realize fully that he was 
beaten, and made no attempt to escape, but cuddled 
down in the grass, as much as to say, “I am at your 
mercy ; do with me as you please.” I had no desire to 
do him harm, and only gave chase to see the ungainly, 
billowy movements that he makes in running, though 
perhaps his appearance was no more ludicrous to me 
than mine to him; either way, I puffed much worse 
than he did. After looking for a few minutes at his 
fine face, but uncouth body, covered with its rusty, 
shaggy coat, I moved off and left him free to take 
possession of his hiding place. This seemed also to. 
astonish him, for he did not move until I was two 
