WAYS OF NATURE 
this case cause her to lose faith in the protective in- 
fluence of the shadow of a human dwelling? I hope 
not. I have known the turtle dove to make a simi- 
lar move, occupying an old robin’s nest near my 
neighbor’s cottage. ‘The timid rabbit will sometimes 
come up from the bushy fields and excavate a place 
for her nest in the lawn a few feet from the house. 
All such things look like acts of judgment, though 
they may be only the result of a greater fear over- 
coming a lesser fear. 
It is in the preservation of their lives and of their 
young that the wild creatures come the nearest to 
showing what we call sense or reason. The boys tell 
me that a rabbit that has been driven from her hole 
a couple of times by a ferret will not again run into 
it when pursued. The tragedy of a rabbit pursued 
by a mink or a weasel may often be read upon our 
winter snows. The rabbit does not take to her hole; 
it would be fatal. And yet, though capable of far 
greater speed, so far as I have observed, she does not 
escape the mink; he very soon pulls her down. It 
would look as though a fatal paralysis, the paralysis 
of utter fear, fell upon the poor creature as soon 
as she found herself hunted by this subtle, blood- 
thirsty enemy. I have seen upon the snow where her 
jumps had become shorter and shorter, with tufts 
of fur marking each stride, till the bloodstains, 
and then her half-devoured body, told the whole 
tragic story. 
7 
