22 
Forest and Stream 
WHITE-FOOTED MICE 
Dear Forest and Stream : 
I N our early camping days we stretched 
* a wire between the tent poles on which 
to hang our clothing with the idea that 
they were thus protected from mice and 
rodents. That they might walk a wire 
never entered our heads. For years the 
plan was a success. Then came a sur¬ 
prise. One morning my partner told 
me that while lying awake the night 
before he had seen a mouse run up the 
front tent pole and out upon the wire 
upon which my coat was hanging and 
then back down the pole again and that 
it repeatedly made the trip. In a most 
patronizing tone I accused him of hav¬ 
ing eaten something for supper which 
did not agree with him. Fie promptly 
came back with the proposition that I 
investigate my coat. I would find a hole 
in the shoulder from which some of the 
padding had been removed. His confi¬ 
dence was somewhat upsetting but still 
I could not believe that a mouse could 
walk that wire. I made the search and 
sure enough there was the hole and the 
padding had been removed. The evi¬ 
dence seemed conclusive. 
To make assurance doubly sure, dur¬ 
ing the day I fastened a narrow board 
on the wire and on it set a spring mouse 
trap. The next night we caught the 
thief, a white-footed mouse, and nothing 
further could be said. The wire was a 
small galvanized one, perfectly smooth, 
without kinks, stretched tightly, the 
board at least two feet from the tent 
pole and nothing between the two but 
the wire. My partner said the mouse 
ran up the pole and out upon the wire 
with as much ease as though on the 
ground. It still sounds impossible to me. 
In talking to an old woodsman he told 
me that these mice could walk the wire 
from the under side , their bodies hang¬ 
ing downward. Whether this is true I 
do not pretend to say, but the one story 
sounds no more improbable than the 
other. Indeed, that they might cling to 
the wire from underneath would seem 
more probable than that they could run 
along on top. 
Our next experience with white-foot¬ 
ed mice was in the same tent at the same 
spot, though another year. A loose 
LETT 
non 
bundle was pulled from under the bed 
and a mouse nest fell out and six pink 
baby mice were spilled in every direc¬ 
tion, while the old mother ran off. Soon 
she returned, picked up one of the babies 
exactly as a cat carries a kitten, in her 
mouth, and took it off. Soon she was 
back after another. This continued un¬ 
til five had been taken away. When 
the bundle was spilled, a newspaper was 
lying on the floor, one corner of which 
blew up and under it rolled one of the' 
babies. The paper then settled into place 
leaving no sign of what was under it. 
When the mother had carried away the 
five she returned for the last. She 
searched most carefully for it, back and 
forth and around, repeatedly crossing 
the paper. Finally she nosed under the 
paper and disappeared shortly to appear 
with the baby in her mouth and away 
she went to return no more. Could she 
count? Did she know she had six 
babies? How did she find it concealed 
as it was? Somehow she knew there 
was another. 
In our Michigan cabin, built in the 
timber, we continually find caches of 
acorns, sometimes under the bedclothes 
in beds in constant use, under the blan¬ 
kets on the couch, or on spare beds; al¬ 
ways in a good, snug place for a winter 
store. Whether put there by squirrels, 
flying squirrels or mice we did not know. 
If by the two former it would seem 
probable that we would sometimes see 
them at their work, or at least hear 
them. The mice seemed the more likely 
cause, but we could not figure out how 
an animal no larger than a mouse could 
carry an acorn almost an inch long and 
over half an inch across. The mystery 
was explained when we saw a white¬ 
footed mouse run along a log of the 
cabin with an acorn in his mouth. It 
is still a mystery how he carried a round, 
hard, slick object the size of an acorn. 
Last summer I had occasion to light 
a fire in an old cook-stove which for 
some time had been sitting out in the 
timber. I filled up the firebox with 
kindling and wood and lighted it. The 
oven door was ajar and as soon as it 
commenced to warm up a white-footed 
mouse ran out. Soon she returned and 
went into the oven from which she 
shortly emerged with a pink baby in her 
mouth. She ran off some ten feet and 
deposited the little one in a hole at the 
root of a tree. Then back she came for 
another. By this time the stove was 
beginning to warm up quite impercepti¬ 
bly. In she went, however, without hesi¬ 
tation, and was quickly back with a 
second. This time, however, she did not 
take it to the hole but only took it a few 
feet where she left it and went back for 
another. She transferred the whole 
family to the spot where she had left the 
second baby and after all were safely 
there she then moved them to the hole 
where the first one had been taken. 
Why did she change her plan and move 
the last ones but a short distance and 
immediately move them again to the 
hole ? I can see nothing except that she 
realized she did not have time to carry 
them all to the hole in the first place 7 
that to save them she must get them out 
in a hurry. To me it looks as though 
she did some reasoning. 
L. O. Vaught, Illinois. 
AIREDALE AND RABBIT* 
Dear Forest and Stream: 
DABBIT and Airedale; scurry and 
•IN bounce; yelp and follow! 
According to natural law, that is the 
relation between Airedale and rabbit. 
Natural law sometimes misses its guess? 
Billy Airedale, poor little chap, came 
from a commercial kennel. He was just 
as badly off as a city boy who has not 
expanded into country events and sym¬ 
pathies. When Billy dreams it doesn’t 
represent any Freudian complex relat¬ 
ing to some shock which he received 
when a pup. It is more likely a dream 
of Airedale heaven, in which cats are 
going up eight trees at once. 
After the prelude comes my story. I 
was standing near the steps of the farm- 
(Continued on page 33) 
In the February Number 
The Big Game of North China, by Arthur de Carle Sowerby —a comprehensive description of a game country that is 
becoming increasingly popular with sportsmen. A Coon Hunt in Nebraska , by L. V. Douglas— tells of exciting sport 
with the hounds. The Last W olf in the Adirondacks, by Frederick A. Potter. W inter in Our Came Covers, by IF. /. 
Schaldach. Some Trout and Bass Lures, by Edward T. Whiffen. A Quail Hunt in the South, by F. A. Beauchamp. 
A good gun article by C. S. Landis, and many more stories that sportsmen will delight to read. 
