Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1902-01-04
A Fox Hunt from the Stand.
point of the Hunted.
A Story of the Maine Woods by j.
Otis Swift.
Mother Reynard Disguised With the Craven
Qualities Of Her Children.

and tbs. birds. and the flowers. was
partly dried mp. Old Sir Sarsaparila,
whose seeds had hardened as the days
went by. and whose leaves had grown
Il little sere and wrinkled was slowly
becoming dry and was creeping more
and more down into his roots. All day
time. and murmured AT the shrunken
nectar sacks Of the plants. scolding
that they could not get as much of it
rs in the summer. and blaming the
plants themselves for it all. OF course.
High up overhead the great red oak
trees We're getting ready to drop their
leaves and round acOrns upon the
ground at the first attack of the frost.
Hufo. the fat. lazy toad had almost
ceased to catch lies at ali, and had
crawled into a hole down under the
bank of the stream where in the
spring he would be thawed out by the
high water of the brook, and perhaps
carried along few hundred feet by
the breaking away of the sods. His
cousin the sleek green frog lay all day
in a dope at the bottom of the deepest
pool where little spring came up from
constantly turned over and over by the
force of the waters. Rama would
awaken long enough when the shaft
Of sunlight came down through the
water and warned him like burning
glass, to crawl nearer the spring and
to stick his cold, numb head down into
the sand for there the water came boil
ing up. and it was warmer than it was
on the rock where the water was still
The water, he knew, came up from way
down III the earth. through this tiny
spring, and was warm. with the
warmth that Mother Earth gives to
her children everywhere. SO Rama
mechanically huddled down into the
sand and burrowed, soon going off to
sleep again for another few weeks.
Already the pitcher plant was dry
and sere. It's tall shaft was standing
like d stick that was passed. headed
with the remains of the queer little
blossom. The birches had cast down
their leaves and they rolled back and
forth upon the ground. filling and
choking up the brook and sitting into
all kinds Of places and making all
warm and snug for the winter.
II was sad and dreary time in the
forest. for of night. when all the lit
tie plants and insects used to he so
merry among themselves filling the
woods with melody and soft whisper
ings only the tall fir trees whose YER
dure is always with them, seemed to
be awake. They communed all night,
talking and signing. and weeping, like
nj a
how nanny birds had nested in their
branches that summer. and wondering
whether it was going to he dull win
ter. or lively winter with lots of soft
weather, and many northern winter
birds fitting among the dry tops of the
golden rod. the seeded branches of the
water hemlock scattering seeds on the
snow for the snow buntings to eat and
be i'll with eating. and many other
things to make the winter dreariness
90 fast
Every cold night made them all look
the more lonesome and dead the next
morning. In the cold moonlighte0
hours of the night little sprites that
looked like babies of the upright folk
would go speeding through the woods
touching the plants here and there with
their icy fingers, and wherever they
touched, or looked. all the plants died
down the next day, and We're dry and
yellow soon after.
The crows. the great black, funereal
crows that seldom paid any attention
to the ravine, had held a caucus in the
tree tops over head. and had made
speeches. and hown away in a black
cloud to the sea fats where the CLAIMS
burrowed in the black sand, and took
no thought save for the coming and 60
ing of the tides over their long. low,
lat beds.
The Pitcher Plant drowsily sputter-
irg in an undertone. complained that
every fall when 1t had grown most
beautiful. and had eaten many. many
thousands of flies, instead of pulling up
its feet and walking, it had to go to
Sleep crawling down into the dull dark
roots and nodding and slumbering.
like a weary baby, put to bed. when all
| the squirrels and the field mice, and
the foxes were getting ready for the
long winter by preparing to Keep
| awake.
I "A II, Ilt, shall iC'Ci NC 'AsJ ----"-e
but a stationary plant" said she. II
only could begin now to store up
nuts and fruit for the long winter eve
J nings, as does Squire Fluffy Tail, the
squirrel, how happy 1 should be. l
have not faith. and cannot have II. in
the good time coming. How shall !
ever be anything bnt the poor little
wee bit of shriveled up plant every
autumn. when know that all the ami
mails are frislxing about in the fall,
from tree to tree and messy stump to
stump, happy and merry"
BE OF good cheer said Sir Sarsa-
pariila, now from his cellar as he had
entirely retired from the top OF the
ground at the last cold snap. BE of
good cheer, and we shall all yet Walk
Ike the animals. and shall run about
for the Master mas said it, and He can
make no mistake"
\ But the Master has hardly looked
4 into this valley for a week. said the
Pitcher Plant. rustling one of her drs
pitchers like f,.,sks in the chill vino.
Go To sleep. and stop talking.
angrily croaked Bufo the squat toas
from somewhere under the bank
Don't YOU know that there are NJ
flies. now. and that we shall all wax