pproach the owner's house, and eat the corn placed for them in a
well-known spot. At this season they answer to a call somewhat similar
to the "milk oh!" of the London dairyman, but loud enough to be heard a
mile or more through the woods. A traveller passing through the
backwoods' settlements will often hear this singular call sounding afar
off in the stillness of the evening.

These hogs pick up most of their subsistence in the forest. The "mast"
of the beech-tree, the nut of the hickory, the fruit of the Chinquapin
oak, the acorn, and many other seeds and berries, furnish them with
food. Many roots besides, and grasses, contribute to sustain them, and
they make an occasional meal off a snake whenever they can get hold of
one. Indeed it may be safely asserted, that no other cause has
contributed so much to the destruction of these reptiles, as the
introduction of the domestic hog into the forests of America. Wherever
a tract of woods has been used as the "run" of a drove of hogs, serpents
of every kind become exceedingly scarce, and you may hunt through such a
tract for weeks without seeing one. The hog seems to have the strongest
antipathy to the snake tribe; without the least fear of them. When one
of the latter is discovered by a hog, and no crevice in the rocks, or
hollow log, offers it a shelter, its destruction is inevitable. The hog
rushes to the spot, and, bounding forward, crushes the reptile under his
hoof's. Should the first attempt not succeed, and the serpent glide
away, the hog nimbly follows, and repeats his efforts until the victim
lies helpless. The victor then goes to work with his powerful jaws, and
quietly devours the prey.

The fondness of the hog for this species of food proves that in a state
of nature it is partially a carnivorous animal. The peccary, which is
the true representative of the wild hog in America--has the very same
habit, and is well-known to be one of the most fatal enemies of the
serpent tribe to be found among American animals.

The hog shows no fear of the snake. His thick hide seems to protect
him. The "skin" of the rattle-snake or the "hiss" of the deadly
"moccasin," are alike unheeded by him. He kills them as easily as he
does the innocent "chicken snake" or the black constrictor. The latter
often escapes from its dreaded enemy by taking to a bush or tree; but
the rattle-snake and the moccasin are not tree-climbers, and either hide
themselves in the herbag