ILLUSTRATIONS
Reading edition
PAGE
The feast is finished and the games are onFrontispiece
The cheerful little goldfinches, that bend the dried ragweeds7
There she stood in the snow with head high, listening anxiously And—dreamed16
I shivered as the icy flakes fell thicker and faster22
The meadow-mouse25
It was Whitefoot30
From his leafless height he looks down into the Hollow33
Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and went chuckling down the bank36
The big moon was rising over the meadows39
Section of muskrat's house40
The snow has drifted over their house till only a tiny mound appears43
They rubbed noses45
Two little brown creatures washing calamus.46
They probe the lawns most diligently for worms57
Even he loves a listener58
She flew across the pasture61
A very ordinary New England "corner"64
They are the first to return in the spring67
Where the dams are hawking for flies70
They cut across the rainbow75
The barn-swallows fetch the summer77
From the barn to the orchard78
Across the road, in an apple-tree, built a pair of redstarts80
Gathered half the gray hairs of a dandelion into her beak83
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 trouble85
I soon spied him on the wires of a telegraph-pole88
He will come if May comes91
Within a few feet of me dropped the lonely frightened quail92
On they go to a fence-stake94
It was a love-song96
But the pair kept on together, chatting brightly101
In a dead yellow birch103
So close I can look directly into it104
"Spring! spring! spring!"114
A wretched little puddle117
Calamity is hot on his track140
Bunny, meantime, is watching just inside the next brier-patch143
The squat is a cold place145
The limp, lifeless one hanging over the neck of that fox148
His drop is swift and certain153
Seven young ones in the nest159
I knew it suited exactly166
With tail up, head cocked, very much amazed, and commenting vociferously168
In a solemn row upon the wire fence171
Young flying-squirrels172
The sentinel crows are posted174
She turned and fixed her big black eyes hard on me179
Wrapped up like little Eskimos180
It is no longer a sorry forest of battered, sunken stumps183
Even the finger-board is a living pillar of ivy186
In October they are building their winter lodges199
The glimpse of Reynard in the moonlight202
