Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



Some larger creature, probably, carried the ap- 

 ple to the woods. Be this as it may, the fruit 

 and the mouse are now together, and a day's 

 ramble is not likely to bring me face to face with 

 anything prettier. There is no means of meas- 

 uring the sparkle of a mouse's eye, but it al- 

 ways seems brighter than that of a squirrel, and 

 every act of the creature is evidence of intelli- 

 gence. Now is the day of their bush nests, 

 which are birds' nests roofed and refitted for 

 winter use. They vary a good deal, and why, 

 if the creatures are mere machines, as is so 

 persistently claimed? The funniest argument 

 that I heard lately in favor of a mouse being 

 witless was that they are so easily trapped. 

 As if the average lord of creation were not 

 caught more than once in his lifetime. 



An interesting feature in the natural history 

 of these mice, — and it applies to most of our 

 small mammals, — is the fact that at times they 

 are extremely abundant and then suddenly they 

 all disappear. I cannot determine whether 

 they are carried off by a plague or migrate. 

 Certainly I do not find them dead, and yet fail 

 to discover them migrating. The short-tailed 

 meadow mouse shifts from point to point and 



227 



