There he was after a long absence, slowly skirting my porch, looking for food. The temperature had crept above freezing for the first time in weeks. After a month of deep slumber he moved stiffly. I was glad I'd anticipated his visit and had tossed bread beneath the steps. It made my heart swell and tears well to see his pink fingers grasp the crusts. He ate quickly and waddled into the damp night. I think we both slept better. Henry David Throreau wrote about Winter Animals.