Forsoundsinwinternights,andofteninwinterdays,Iheardtheforlornbutmelodiousnoteofahootingowlindefinitelyfarsuchasoundasthefrozenearthwouldyieldifstruckwithasuitableplectrum,theverylinguavernaculaofWaldenWood,andquitefamiliartomeatlast,thoughIneversawthebirdwhileitwasmakingit.IseldomopenedmydoorinawintereveningwithouthearingitHoohoohoo,hoorer,hoo,soundedsonorously,andthefirstthreesyllablesaccentedsomewhatlikehowderdoorsometimeshoohooonly.Onenightinthebeginningofwinter,beforethepondfrozeover,aboutnineo’clock,Iwasstartledbytheloudhonkingofagoose,and,steppingtothedoor,heardthesoundoftheirwingslikeatempestinthewoodsastheyflewlowovermyhouse.TheypassedoverthepondtowardFairHaven,seeminglydeterredfromsettlingbymylight,theircommodorehonkingallthewhilewitharegularbeat.Suddenlyanunmistakablecat-owlfromverynearme,withthemostharshandtremendousvoiceIeverheardfromanyinhabitantofthewoods,respondedatregularintervalstothegoose,asifdeterminedtoexposeanddisgracethisintruderfromHudson’sBaybyexhibitingagreatercompassandvolumeofvoiceinanative,andboo-hoohimoutofConcordhorizon.Whatdoyoumeanbyalarmingthecitadelatthistimeofnightconsecratedtome?DoyouthinkIamevercaughtnappingatsuchanhour,andthatIhavenotgotlungsandalarynxaswellasyourself?Boo-hoo,boo-hoo,boo-hoo!ItwasoneofthemostthrillingdiscordsIeverheard.Andyet,ifyouhadadiscriminatingear,therewereinittheelementsofaconcordsuchastheseplainsneversawnorheard. Ialsoheardthewhoopingoftheiceinthepond,mygreatbed-fellowinthatpartofConcord,asifitwererestlessinitsbedandwouldfainturnover,weretroubledwithflatulencyandhaddreamsorIwaswakedbythecrackingofthegroundbythefrost,asifsomeonehaddrivenateamagainstmydoor,andinthemorningwouldfindacrackintheearthaquarterofamilelongandathirdofaninchwide. SometimesIheardthefoxesastheyrangedoverthesnowcrust,inmoonlightnights,insearchofapartridgeorothergame,barkingraggedlyanddemoniacallylikeforestdogs,asiflaboringwithsomeanxiety,orseekingexpression,strugglingforlightandtobedogsoutrightandrunfreelyinthestreetsforifwetaketheagesintoouraccount,maytherenotbeacivilizationgoingonamongbrutesaswellasmen?Theyseemedtometoberudimental,burrowingmen,stillstandingontheirdefence,awaitingtheirtransformation.Sometimesonecameneartomywindow,attractedbymylight,barkedavulpinecurseatme,andthenretreated. Usuallytheredsquirrel(SciurusHudsonius)wakedmeinthedawn,coursingovertheroofandupanddownthesidesofthehouse,asifsentoutofthewoodsforthispurpose.InthecourseofthewinterIthrewouthalfabushelofearsofsweet-corn,whichhadnotgotripe,ontothesnowcrustbymydoor,andwasamusedbywatchingthemotionsofthevariousanimalswhichwerebaitedbyit.Inthetwilightandthenighttherabbitscameregularlyandmadeaheartymeal.Alldaylongtheredsquirrelscameandwent,andaffordedmemuchentertainmentbytheirman?uvres.Onewouldapproachatfirstwarilythroughtheshrub-oaks,runningoverthesnowcrustbyfitsandstartslikealeafblownbythewind,nowafewpacesthisway,withwonderfulspeedandwasteofenergy,makinginconceivablehastewithhis“trotters,”asifitwereforawager,andnowasmanypacesthatway,butnevergettingonmorethanhalfarodatatimeandthensuddenlypausingwithaludicrousexpressionandagratuitoussomerset,asifalltheeyesintheuniversewerefixedonhim,—forallthemotionsofasquirrel,eveninthemostsolitaryrecessesoftheforest,implyspectatorsasmuchasthoseofadancinggirl,—wastingmoretimeindelayandcircumspectionthanwouldhavesufficedtowalkthewholedistance,—Ineversawonewalk,—andthensuddenly,beforeyoucouldsayJackRobinson,hewouldbeinthetopofayoungpitch-pine,windinguphisclockandchidingallimaginaryspectators,soliloquizingandtalkingtoalltheuniverseatthesametime,—fornoreasonthatIcouldeverdetect,orhehimselfwasawareof,Isuspect.Atlengthhewouldreachthecorn,andselectingasuitableear,friskaboutinthesameuncertaintrigonometricalwaytothetop-moststickofmywood-pile,beforemywindow,wherehelookedmeintheface,andtheresitforhours,supplyinghimselfwithanewearfromtimetotime,nibblingatfirstvoraciouslyandthrowingthehalf-nakedcobsabouttillatlengthhegrewmoredaintystillandplayedwithhisfood,tastingonlytheinsideofthekernel,andtheear,whichwasheldbalancedoverthestickbyonepaw,slippedfromhiscarelessgraspandfelltotheground,whenhewouldlookoveratitwithaludicrousexpressionofuncertainty,asifsuspectingthatithadlife,withamindnotmadeupwhethertogetitagain,oranewone,orbeoffnowthinkingofcorn,thenlisteningtohearwhatwasinthewind.Sothelittleimpudentfellowwouldwastemanyanearinaforenoontillatlast,seizingsomelongerandplumperone,considerablybiggerthanhimself,andskilfullybalancingit,hewouldsetoutwithittothewoods,likeatigerwithabuffalo,bythesamezig-zagcourseandfrequentpauses,scratchingalongwithitasifitweretooheavyforhimandfallingallthewhile,makingitsfalladiagonalbetweenaperpendicularandhorizontal,beingdeterminedtoputitthroughatanyrate—asingularlyfrivolousandwhimsicalfellow—andsohewouldgetoffwithittowherehelived,perhapscarryittothetopofapinetreefortyorfiftyrodsdistant,andIwouldafterwardsfindthecobsstrewnaboutthewoodsinvariousdirections. Atlengththejaysarrive,whosediscordantscreamswereheardlongbefore,astheywerewarilymakingtheirapproachaneighthofamileoff,andinastealthyandsneakingmannertheyflitfromtreetotree,nearerandnearer,andpickupthekernelswhichthesquirrelshavedropped.Then,sittingonapitch-pinebough,theyattempttoswallowintheirhasteakernelwhichistoobigfortheirthroatsandchokesthemandaftergreatlabortheydisgorgeit,andspendanhourintheendeavortocrackitbyrepeatedblowswiththeirbills.Theyweremanifestlythieves,andIhadnotmuchrespectforthembutthesquirrels,thoughatfirstshy,wenttoworkasiftheyweretakingwhatwastheirown. Meanwhilealsocamethechickadeesinflocks,which,pickingupthecrumbsthesquirrelshaddropped,flewtothenearesttwig,and,placingthemundertheirclaws,hammeredawayatthemwiththeirlittlebills,asifitwereaninsectinthebark,tilltheyweresufficientlyreducedfortheirslenderthroats.Alittleflockofthesetit-micecamedailytopickadinneroutofmywood-pile,orthecrumbsatmydoor,withfaintflittinglispingnotes,likethetinklingoficiclesinthegrass,orelsewithsprightlydaydayday,ormorerarely,inspring-likedays,awirysummeryphe-befromthewood-side.TheyweresofamiliarthatatlengthonealightedonanarmfulofwoodwhichIwascarryingin,andpeckedatthestickswithoutfear.IoncehadasparrowalightuponmyshoulderforamomentwhileIwashoeinginavillagegarden,andIfeltthatIwasmoredistinguishedbythatcircumstancethanIshouldhavebeenbyanyepauletIcouldhaveworn.Thesquirrelsalsogrewatlasttobequitefamiliar,andoccasionallysteppeduponmyshoe,whenthatwasthenearestway. Whenthegroundwasnotyetquitecovered,andagainneartheendofwinter,whenthesnowwasmeltedonmysouthhill-sideandaboutmywood-pile,thepartridgescameoutofthewoodsmorningandeveningtofeedthere.Whicheversideyouwalkinthewoodsthepartridgeburstsawayonwhirringwings,jarringthesnowfromthedryleavesandtwigsonhigh,whichcomessiftingdowninthesun-beamslikegoldendustforthisbravebirdisnottobescaredbywinter.Itisfrequentlycoveredupbydrifts,and,itissaid,“sometimesplungesfromonwingintothesoftsnow,whereitremainsconcealedforadayortwo.”Iusedtostartthemintheopenlandalso,wheretheyhadcomeoutofthewoodsatsunsetto“bud”thewildapple-trees.Theywillcomeregularlyeveryeveningtoparticulartrees,wherethecunningsportsmanliesinwaitforthem,andthedistantorchardsnextthewoodssufferthusnotalittle.Iamgladthatthepartridgegetsfed,atanyrate.ItisNature’sownbirdwhichlivesonbudsanddiet-drink. Indarkwintermornings,orinshortwinterafternoons,Isometimesheardapackofhoundsthreadingallthewoodswithhoundingcryandyelp,unabletoresisttheinstinctofthechase,andthenoteofthehuntinghornatintervals,provingthatmanwasintherear.Thewoodsringagain,andyetnofoxburstsforthontotheopenlevelofthepond,norfollowingpackpursuingtheirAct?on.AndperhapsateveningIseethehuntersreturningwithasinglebrushtrailingfromtheirsleighforatrophy,seekingtheirinn.Theytellmethatifthefoxwouldremaininthebosomofthefrozenearthhewouldbesafe,orifhewouldruninastraightlineawaynofox-houndcouldovertakehimbut,havinglefthispursuersfarbehind,hestopstorestandlistentilltheycomeup,andwhenherunshecirclesroundtohisoldhaunts,wherethehuntersawaithim.Sometimes,however,hewillrunuponawallmanyrods,andthenleapofffartooneside,andheappearstoknowthatwaterwillnotretainhisscent.AhuntertoldmethatheoncesawafoxpursuedbyhoundsburstoutontoWaldenwhentheicewascoveredwithshallowpuddles,runpartwayacross,andthenreturntothesameshore.Erelongthehoundsarrived,butheretheylostthescent.Sometimesapackhuntingbythemselveswouldpassmydoor,andcircleroundmyhouse,andyelpandhoundwithoutregardingme,asifafflictedbyaspeciesofmadness,sothatnothingcoulddivertthemfromthepursuit.Thustheycircleuntiltheyfallupontherecenttrailofafox,forawisehoundwillforsakeeverythingelseforthis.OnedayamancametomyhutfromLexingtontoinquireafterhishoundthatmadealargetrack,andhadbeenhuntingforaweekbyhimself.ButIfearthathewasnotthewiserforallItoldhim,foreverytimeIattemptedtoanswerhisquestionsheinterruptedmebyasking,“Whatdoyoudohere?”Hehadlostadog,butfoundaman. Oneoldhunterwhohasadrytongue,whousedtocometobatheinWaldenonceeveryyearwhenthewaterwaswarmest,andatsuchtimeslookedinuponme,toldmethatmanyyearsagohetookhisgunoneafternoonandwentoutforacruiseinWaldenWoodandashewalkedtheWaylandroadheheardthecryofhoundsapproaching,anderelongafoxleapedthewallintotheroad,andasquickasthoughtleapedtheotherwalloutoftheroad,andhisswiftbullethadnottouchedhim.Somewaybehindcameanoldhoundandherthreepupsinfullpursuit,huntingontheirownaccount,anddisappearedagaininthewoods.Lateintheafternoon,ashewasrestinginthethickwoodssouthofWalden,heheardthevoiceofthehoundsfarovertowardFairHavenstillpursuingthefoxandontheycame,theirhoundingcrywhichmadeallthewoodsringsoundingnearerandnearer,nowfromWell-Meadow,nowfromtheBakerFarm.Foralongtimehestoodstillandlistenedtotheirmusic,sosweettoahunter’sear,whensuddenlythefoxappeared,threadingthesolemnaisleswithaneasycoursingpace,whosesoundwasconcealedbyasympatheticrustleoftheleaves,swiftandstill,keepingtheground,leavinghispursuersfarbehindand,leapinguponarockamidthewoods,hesaterectandlistening,withhisbacktothehunter.Foramomentcompassionrestrainedthelatter’sarmbutthatwasashort-livedmood,andasquickasthoughtcanfollowthoughthispiecewaslevelled,andwhang!—thefoxrollingovertherocklaydeadontheground.Thehunterstillkepthisplaceandlistenedtothehounds.Stillontheycame,andnowthenearwoodsresoundedthroughalltheiraisleswiththeirdemoniaccry.Atlengththeoldhoundburstintoviewwithmuzzletotheground,andsnappingtheairasifpossessed,andrandirectlytotherockbutspyingthedeadfoxshesuddenlyceasedherhoundingasifstruckdumbwithamazement,andwalkedroundandroundhiminsilenceandonebyoneherpupsarrived,and,liketheirmother,weresoberedintosilencebythemystery.Thenthehuntercameforwardandstoodintheirmidst,andthemysterywassolved.Theywaitedinsilencewhileheskinnedthefox,thenfollowedthebrushawhile,andatlengthturnedoffintothewoodsagain.ThateveningaWestonSquirecametotheConcordhunter’scottagetoinquireforhishounds,andtoldhowforaweektheyhadbeenhuntingontheirownaccountfromWestonwoods.TheConcordhuntertoldhimwhatheknewandofferedhimtheskinbuttheotherdeclineditanddeparted.Hedidnotfindhishoundsthatnight,butthenextdaylearnedthattheyhadcrossedtheriverandputupatafarm-houseforthenight,whence,havingbeenwellfed,theytooktheirdepartureearlyinthemorning. ThehunterwhotoldmethiscouldrememberoneSamNutting,whousedtohuntbearsonFairHavenLedges,andexchangetheirskinsforruminConcordvillagewhotoldhim,even,thathehadseenamoosethere.Nuttinghadafamousfox-houndnamedBurgoyne,—hepronounceditBugine,—whichmyinformantusedtoborrow.Inthe“WastBook”ofanoldtraderofthistown,whowasalsoacaptain,town-clerk,andrepresentative,Ifindthefollowingentry.Jan.18th,1742–3,“JohnMelvenCr.by1GreyFox0—2—3”theyarenotnowfoundhereandinhisledger,Feb.7th,1743,HezekiahStrattonhascredit“by?aCattskin0—1—4?”ofcourse,awild-cat,forStrattonwasasergeantintheoldFrenchwar,andwouldnothavegotcreditforhuntinglessnoblegame.Creditisgivenfordeerskinsalso,andtheyweredailysold.Onemanstillpreservesthehornsofthelastdeerthatwaskilledinthisvicinity,andanotherhastoldmetheparticularsofthehuntinwhichhisunclewasengaged.Thehunterswereformerlyanumerousandmerrycrewhere.IrememberwellonegauntNimrodwhowouldcatchupaleafbytheroad-sideandplayastrainonitwilderandmoremelodious,ifmymemoryservesme,thananyhunting-horn.