WAYS OF NATURE 



this case cause her to lose faith in the protective in- 

 fluence of the shadow of a human dwelhng ? 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 



