THE WOODS IN WINTER 
69 
everywhere before nine o’clock, one could hardly believe the year 
was so near its close. Such lovely shadows are seldom seen. A 
million pencils were at work sketching the daintiest outlines of 
familiar objects upon every bit of available pathway, and those 
delicate bars of shade cast by bare branches upon the moss- 
covered trunks of the beeches were surely the subtle strokes of 
some ethereal artist, as if gently breathed upon a patch of sun- 
shine by a passing breeze. This morning I stood watching a 
squirrel for quite ten minutes before he moved. All this time his 
ears were perfectly still, and his tail was twisted round the branch 
on which he sat. Tired of waiting, I walked quietly up and 
stood just underneath the tree. I could have reached him easily 
with a ten-foot pole. For some minutes longer there was no 
movement. At last he gave himself a little shake, looked at me 
rather indifferently, and resumed his nap. I had already seen 
another busy with his breakfast in a tree on the opposite side 
of the path. The little fellow was feasting on fir-cones. How 
prettily his paws moved while stripping off the scales. Still 
another sat on the next tree just as busy. Leaving them to 
finish their meal I looked back for little sleepy head, who had 
now got up and climbed to the top of his bedpost, whence he 
seemed to enjoy a fine view. He was probably on the look out 
for a good seat at the breakfast table. And now something 
happened that confirmed what had before been only a conjecture. 
When about a hundred yards from this spot I saw something 
near the top of one of the tallest firs, a brown lump on a bare 
branch, not like a nest, but more like a young hedgehog. I felt 
sure it was a squirrel, and concluded it was asleep. Neither 
head nor tail could be distinguished. I made up my mind to wait 
until it awoke. There was no sign of life for a long time, quite 
a quarter of an hour. The clock struck nine, and I wanted to 
move on. One more patient look ; and then I slapped the trunk 
of the tree with my hand, feeling sure the vibration would rouse 
the sleeper. Still no movement. I began to fear I had been 
mistaken. Picking up a handful of round pebbles, I flung three 
up into the branches, one after the other, hoping the noise would 
waken the little sluggard. Then I had to conclude that my 
eyes had for once deceived me, and I took hold of my bicycle ; 
but before starting I looked once more at the motionless brown 
lump, very unwilling to leave such an interesting problem 
unsolved. I almost wished myself a boy again, eagerly eyed 
the rough bark and blunt, perhaps brittle, stumps, then glanced 
at my clothes, and finally decided not to climb. With a little 
impatience I picked up a large stone and threw it almost to the 
top of the tree. It struck sharply against the trunk, very close 
to the branch I had been watching so anxiously ; and the effect 
was quite startling. That brown bundle burst into life like a 
match when struck. It whisked round, then up the trunk and out 
of sight in a twinkling. After a minute or so I quietly slipped 
round to the other side of the tree and looked up : there was the 
