[ILLUSTRATIONS]
| PAGE | |
| The feast is finished and the games are on | [Frontispiece] |
| Ripe and rimy with November's frosts | [5] |
| Swinging from the limbs by their long prehensile tails | [7] |
| Under such conditions he looks quite like a ferocious beast | [10] |
| Filing through the corn-stubs | [13] |
| Here on the fence we waited | [16] |
| He had stopped for a meal on his way out | [20] |
| Playing possum | [22] |
| She was standing off a dog | [26] |
| The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds | [37] |
| There she stood in the snow with head high, listening anxiously | [45] |
| And—dreamed | [46] |
| I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster | [52] |
| The meadow-mouse | [55] |
| It was Whitefoot | [60] |
| From his leafless height he looks down into the Hollow | [63] |
| It caught at the insects in the air | [71] |
| Unlike any bird of the light | [77] |
| They peek around the tree-trunks | [83] |
| The sparrow-hawk searching the fences for them | [88] |
| In October they are building their winter lodges | [103] |
| The glimpse of Reynard in the moonlight | [106] |
| They probe the lawns most diligently for worms | [117] |
| Even he loves a listener | [118] |
| She flew across the pasture | [121] |
| Putting things to rights in his house | [122] |
| A very ordinary New England "corner" | [124] |
| They are the first to return in the spring | [127] |
| Where the dams are hawking for flies | [130] |
| They cut across the rainbow | [135] |
| The barn-swallows fetch the summer | [137] |
| From the barn to the orchard | [138] |
| Across the road, in an apple-tree, built a pair of redstarts | [140] |
| Gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her beak | [143] |
| In the tree next to the chebec's was a brood of robins. The crude nest was wedged carelessly into the lowest fork of the tree, so that the cats and roving boys could help themselves without trouble | [145] |
| I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole | [148] |
| He will come if May comes | [151] |
| Within a few feet of me dropped the lonely frightened quail | [152] |
| On they go to a fence-stake | [154] |
| It was a love-song | [156] |
| But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly | [161] |
| In a dead yellow birch | [163] |
| So close I can look directly into it | [164] |
| Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees andwent chuckling down the bank | [170] |
| The big moon was rising over the meadows | [173] |
| Section of muskrat's house | [174] |
| The snow has drifted over their house till only atiny mound appears | [177] |
| They rubbed noses | [179] |
| Two little brown creatures washing calamus | [180] |
| She melted away among the dark pines like a shadow | [186] |
| She called me every wicked thing that she could think of | [189] |
| It was one of those cathedral-like clumps | [191] |
| They were watching me | [192] |
| A triumph of love and duty over fear | [199] |
| He wants to know where I am and what I am about | [203] |
| In the agony of death | [205] |
| Calamity is hot on his track | [212] |
| Bunny, meantime, is watching just inside the next brier-patch | [215] |
| The squat is a cold place | [217] |
| The limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that fox | [220] |
| His drop is swift and certain | [225] |
| Seven young ones in the nest | [231] |
| The land of the mushroom | [239] |
| Witch-hazel | [244] |
| I knew it suited exactly | [252] |
| With tail up, head cocked, very much amazed,and commenting vociferously | [254] |
| In a solemn row upon the wire fence | [257] |
| Young flying-squirrels | [258] |
| The sentinel crows are posted | [260] |
| She turned and fixed her big black eyes hard on me | [265] |
| Wrapped up like little Eskimos | [266] |
| It is no longer a sorry forest of battered, sunken stumps | [269] |
| Even the finger-board is a living pillar of ivy | [272] |
| A family of seven young skunks | [284] |
| The family followed | [289] |
| "Spring! spring! spring!" | [300] |
| A wretched little puddle | [303] |
| He was trying to swallow something | [307] |
| In a state of soured silence | [322] |
| Ugliness incarnate | [325] |
| Sailing over the pines | [328] |
| A banquet this sans toasts and cheer | [333] |
| Floating without effort among the clouds | [337] |
| From unknown regions of the ocean | [345] |
| A crooked, fretful little stream | [346] |
| Swimming, jumping, flopping, climbing, up he comes! | [349] |
| Here again hungry enemies await them | [355] |