Sheltered deep in boreal forest,
under boughs of cold, black spruce;
Lair made tight against the blizzard,
branches ‘twined lest they blow loose;

Eyes like gold of buttered honey,
from within this shelter search,
Watch the snowflakes, soft and furry,
see the owl on hunting perch;

Comes the moose, the monarch strolling,
past the tiny snowbound home,
Where inside the lynx lays curled,
gnawing on the white hare’s bone;

Above in silence black-eyed marten,
cleans the ice balls from its toes,
Tests the air for signs of danger;
always lurking near, she knows;

Snowy owl lifts from the watch post,
silently glides through the trees,
Down and down upon its victim,
one more hare, its jump shall cease;

Fox jumps quick o’er slough now frozen,
following the tiny trails,
Where little dark-gray mice are feeding,
fox’s method seldom fails;

Another day in northland woods;
ten million gone before;
This teaching story for my friends;
a look in through Alaska’s door!