ch.

One word more. It may happen that at feeding or cleaning-out time a cock
bullfinch, or some valued bird, will slip out and escape. Nothing
whatever will be gained by exclaiming, "What a pity!" nor would it be
wise to chase the fugitive from bush to bush, because to pursue would
merely frighten it farther afield. But if left alone, it will probably
be too much astonished at the novelty of its freedom to think of flying
at first farther than the nearest thick shrub. So, having noticed where
it has flown to, we must fetch the trap-cage without losing a moment,
put in a hen from the aviary as call-bird, a few grains of hemp as bait,
stand the cage on a box, or anything else, close to the bush, and watch
from some point out of sight. In less than ten minutes we shall most
likely have caught the truant safely once more.

THE ERMINE.

The silky white fur which forms the ornament of many a royal robe is the
skin of the ermine--a graceful and saucy member of the weasel tribe. The
ermine is found in all Northern countries. In the summer it is a
reddish-brown creature, but no sooner does the reign of winter begin
than it attires itself in purest white, with the exception of the tip of
its tail, which is glossy jet black. It is thought by naturalists that
the coat of the ermine changes color at the beginning of winter, but
that the change in the spring is effected by shedding the white hairs,
which are replaced by new ones of a brown tint.

The ermine (sometimes called stoat) is somewhat larger than the common
weasel, but not unlike it in its habits. It lives in hollow trees and
among rocks, wherever it can find a snug hiding-place. Although it often
comes out to frolic in the sun, its hunting-time begins with the setting
of the sun. Toward evening, when the shadows are rapidly lengthening
across the clearings, the ermine may be seen issuing forth for its night
campaign. Now it twists its lithe body like an eel in and out among the
rocks and underbrush; now it stands for a moment motionless, peering
about in search of a victim, its slender little body arched up in the
middle like an enraged cat. It is always on the alert, whisking here and
there, sniffing at every hole and corner where perchance some rat or
rabbit may lie concealed.

Odd stories are told of the extreme boldness of the ermine, and some of
them are no doubt true. A celebrated German hunter relates that,
creeping through the forest in search of game,