things to eat are calling them.

Besides the veteran there was a little mother-mouse, whose tiny
gray jacket was still big enough to cover a wonderful mother
love, as I afterwards found out. She never ate at my table, but
carried her fare away into hiding, not to feed her little
ones-they were, too small as yet--but thinking in some dumb way,
behind the bright little eyes, that they needed her and that her
life must be spared with greater precaution for their sakes. She
would steal timidly to my table, always appearing from under a
gray shred of bark on a fallen birch log, following the same
path, first to a mossy stone, then to a dark hole under a root,
then to a low brake, and along the underside of a billet of wood
to the mouse table. There she would stuff both cheeks hurriedly,
till they bulged as if she had toothache, and steal away by the
same path, disappearing at last under the shred of gray bark.

For a long time it puzzled me to find her nest, which I knew
could not be far away. It was not in the birch log where she
disappeared--that was hollow the whole length--nor was it
anywhere beneath it. Some distance away was a large stone, half
covered by the green moss which reached up from every side. The
most careful search here had failed to discover any trace of
Tookhees' doorway; so one day when the wind blew half a gale and
I was going out on the lake alone, I picked up this stone to put
in the bow of my canoe. That was to steady the little craft by
bringing her nose down to grip the water. Then the secret was
out, and there it was in a little dome of dried grass among some
spruce roots under the stone.