Page:Summer - from the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau.djvu/138

128 they were perhaps a fortnight old. There were four in all, and they were dug out by the aid of a dog. The mother successively pushed out her little ones to the dog to save herself, and one was at once killed by the dog. These two are now nearly one third grown. They have found a hole within the house, into which they run, and whither they have carried shavings, etc., and made a nest. Thence they run out doors and feed close about the house, lurking behind barrels, etc. They eat yarrow, clover, catnip, etc., and are fed with milk and bread. They do not drink the milk like a dog or a cat, but simply suck it, taking the sharp edge of the shallow tin dish in their mouths. They are said to spit like a cat. They eat bread sitting upright on their haunches, and holding it in their forepaws just like a squirrel. That is their common and natural mode of eating. They are as gray (hoary) as the old, or grayer. Mrs. Miles says they sleep on their heads, i. e., curling their heads under them; also, that they can back as straight into their hole as if they went head foremost. I saw a full-grown one this which stood so erect and still (its paws hanging down and inobvious as its ears) that it might be mistaken for a short and very stout stake.

This the streets are strewn with the leaves of the button-wood, which are still