20 Ways of Wood Folk. 



he worries the poor thing for an hour at a time ; and 

 when he finds a turtle he turns the creature over with 

 his paw, sitting down gravely to watch its awkward 

 struggle to get back onto its feet. At such times he 

 has a most humorous expression, brows wrinkled and 

 tongue out, as if he were enjoying himself hugely. 



Later in the season he would be glad enough to 

 make a meal of toad or turtle. One day last March 

 the sun shone out bright and warm ; in the afternoon 

 the first frogs began to tune up, cr-r-r-rinik^ cr-r-rnnk- 

 a-ruitk-rtink, like a flock of brant in the distance. I 

 was watching them at a marshy spot in the woods, 

 where they had come out of the mud by dozens into 

 a bit of open water, when the bushes parted cau- 

 tiously and the sharp nose of a fox appeared. The 

 hungry fellow had heard them from the hill above, 

 where he was asleep, and had come down to see if he 

 could catch a few. He was creeping out onto the ice 

 when he smelled me, and trotted back into the woods. 



Once I saw him catch a frog. He crept down to 

 where Chigwooltz, a fat green bullfrog, was sunning 

 himself by a lily pad, and very cautiously stretched 

 out one paw under water. Then with a quick fling 

 he tossed his game to land, and was after him like a 

 flash before he could scramble back. 



On the seacoast Reynard depends largely on the 

 tides for a living. An old fisherman assures me that 



