LITTLE BEASTS OF FIELD AND WOOD 



ample of their elders, and after the first severe 

 frost of autumn they make the stiff leaves of the 

 nut trees fairly crash as they leap from branch to 

 branch, in the hurry of their harvesting. Down 

 below, the ferns droop and blacken in the open 

 places in the woods, the scent of frost-killed 

 vegetation hangs Hke incense on the still air, and 

 the bees seek out the banks of goldenrod and 

 asters for the last honey of the season. 



Of all the inhabitants of the forest, the squirrels, 

 both red and gray, appear to be the least suscep- 

 tible to the doom of autumn, the vague, unrea- 

 soning sadness and sense of looking backward 

 which pervades everything and gives the same 

 meaning to the notes of migrating birds, the 

 cricket's creaking, the sound of the wind in the 

 pines, or the surf beneath the sand-dunes. But 

 although to all outward appearances the fall is 

 the squirrel's favourite season, it is also their time 

 of greatest danger, for the red-tailed and the red- 

 shouldered hawks are on their migrations, and the 



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