20 The Ruffed Grouse 
High upon the oaks the squirrels 
Frolic fast among the acorns, 
On the moss beneath, the chipmunks 
Gather up the falling treasures. 
Shrill and nervous is their signal. 
If their ever-watchful glances 
Fall upon the skulking hunter 
Prowling through the distant shadows. 
When October sears the oak leaves 
Silence settles on the forest. 
Southward have the swallows darted, 
Southward sped the warbler legions, 
Southward are the thrushes flocking. 
Crows complaining seek the Ocean. 
With the snowflakes o'er the mountains 
Hasten past the hawks from Northland, 
Speed along the titmice, juncos. 
White - crowned sparrows, wrens, and 
creepers. 
Tiny kinglets, sweet-voiced bluebirds, 
All in eager search for havens 
Where the touch of winter kills not. 
