CHAPTER XXIII
baby porcupines
THERE is something pathetic about a Porcupine. He asks so little of the world in which he lives, taking the plain necessities without even a glance at the luxuries; and he is such a delightful back-woods old codger. I always feel a thrill of sympathy when I look into his dear old face for all the world like a little, old man's, who is half stupid, half sorrowful and altogether wistful.
He seems to have been born old. He walks so slowly, with bent head and little black eyes looking up timidly from under his overhanging grizzly brows.
I think he is the least quarrelsome of our wild animals. Porky is never aggressive. If a fight is started you can depend upon it that somebody started it besides our prickly friend; but if any one is looking for trouble he can get all he wants
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