The white stripe on the skunk's back, while a valuable warning to all of what is approaching, is a disadvantage from the trapper's viewpoint. This stripe varies in length and some varieties are without it entirely. There is a story of the days when the Indians in western New York used to bring in many skunk skins to the local fur-buyer. One red man, a notorious cheat, came in one day with a single skin to sell. "Long stripe or short stripe," said the buyer, whose prices varied with the length of the white stripe on the skunk's back. "Ver' short stripe. How much pay?" said the Indian. "Let's see the skin," said the buyer. The Indian showed the skin, which was that of a young animal, and very small, the stripe extending the entire length of the skin. "You said short stripe," said the indignant buyer, pointing the finger of scorn at the runty little skin. "Short skunk, short stripe," said the Indian with a shrug. "What you pay?" I cut out an item from the daily paper last week which had this headline: "Skunks sent him to college." Can you draw your own inferences? The fur of skunks is very valuable now and in many fashionable Paris shops it is advertised with large placards printed distinctly for their English-speaking customers, "_Veritable Skong_." TRAPPING WOODCHUCKS Judging by the tales they tell, New England boys of the passing generation spent most of their time trying to outwit the woodchucks which infested their farms. If all their tales were true, the barn doors of their respective states must have needed stretching to hold all the skins of all those woodchucks, and no boy could possibly have been long without that valuable possession, a whiplash made of woodchuck hide. This little cousin of the squirrels is neither very fleet nor very cunning. He has, though, very quick ears and quicker eyes, and knows that his hole is the safest place for him when boys are around. The only excuse for hunting woodchucks is that they sometimes get so numerous as to do real damage in the garden, either by their holes and the mounds of earth they throw out, or by eating more vegetables than can reasonably be spared. A better game than hunting them would be to discover how they build their underground galleries. Are these mere holes deep enough to crawl into for safety? Is there more than one tunnel? Has the owner an exit as well as an entrance to his home? Has he a nest, and where and what is it? Does he hoard for winter, or hibernate? TRAPPING MOLES