his wing prints in the snow, I would follow to find where he lit,
and then trace him on his morning wanderings.

One would think that this might be a dangerous proceeding,
sleeping on the ground with no protection but the snow, and a
score of hungry enemies prowling about the woods; but the grouse
knows well that when the storms are out his enemies stay close at
home, not being able to see or smell, and therefore afraid each
one of his own enemies. There is always a truce in the woods
during a snowstorm; and that is the reason why a grouse goes to
sleep in the snow only while the flakes are still falling. When
the storm is over and the snow has settled a bit, the fox will be
abroad again; and then the grouse sleeps in the evergreens.

Once, however, the old beech partridge miscalculated. The storm
ceased early in the evening, and hunger drove the fox out on a
night when, ordinarily, he would have stayed under cover.
Sometime about daybreak, before yet the light had penetrated to
where the old beech partridge was sleeping, the fox found a hole
in the snow, which told him that just in front of his hungry nose
a grouse was hidden, all unconscious of danger. I found the spot,
trailing the fox, a few hours later. How cautious he was! The sly
trail was eloquent with hunger and anticipation. A few feet away
from the promising hole he had stopped, looking keenly over the
snow to find some suspicious roundness on the smooth surface. Ah!
there it was, just by the edge of a juniper thicket. He crouched
down, stole forward, pushing a deep trail with his body, settled
himself firmly and sprang. And there, just beside the hole his
paws had made in the snow, was another hole where the grouse had
burst out, scattering snow all over his enemy, who had