WAYS OF NATURE 
ber day, I saw Downy trying to get possession of a 
hole not his own. I chanced to be passing under 
a maple, when white chips upon the ground again 
caused me to scrutinize the branches overhead. Just 
then I saw Downy come to the tree, and, hopping 
around on the under side of a large dry limb, begin 
to make passes at something with his beak. Pre- 
sently I made out a round hole there, with some- 
thing in it returning Downy’s thrusts. The sparring 
continued some moments. Downy would hop away 
a few feet, then return to the attack, each time to be 
met by the occupant of the hole. I suspected an 
English sparrow had taken possession of Downy’s 
cell in his absence during the day, but I was wrong. 
Downy flew to another branch, and I tossed up a 
stone against the one that contained the hole, when, 
with a sharp, steely note, out came a hairy wood- 
pecker and alighted on a near-by branch. Downy, 
then, had the “cheek” to try to turn his large rival 
out of doors— and it was Hairy’s cell, too; one could 
see that by the size of the entrance. Thus loosely 
does the rule of meuwm and tuum obtain in the 
woods. There is no moral code in nature. Might 
reads right. Man in communities has evolved ethi- 
cal standards of conduct, but nations, in their deal- 
ings with one another, are still largely in a state of 
savage nature, and seek to establish the right, as 
dogs do, by the appeal to battle. 
One season a wood duck laid her eggs in a cavity 
21 
