LITTLE BEASTS OF FIELD AND WOOD 



and fall they keep steadily at work, as long 

 as there are cones to be had by climbing, even 

 after a majority of them have parted with their 

 seeds. 



In the winter, even when the snow is several 

 feet deep, the squirrels never appear to have any 

 difficulty about locating their stores, sinking per- 

 pendicular shafts down through the drifts in 

 order to reach them. Often, instead of burrowing 

 down repeatedly to each little pile of cones, they 

 dig radiating tunnels along the surface of the 

 ground, from the first one opened to the others 

 near it, dragging the cones laboriously along their 

 winding galleries to the surface and away over 

 the snow to some favourite stump before attempt- 

 ing to open them. To get at the seeds they 

 hold the cone upright in their paws and, begin- 

 ning at the stem end, bite off the scales at the 

 junction with the core, laying bare two seeds for 

 each scale removed. Long practice has made 

 them experts in the art, and it is surprising to 



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