NEW RIVALS
[Illustration]
THE stormy moon of March was nearly over when a change came on their
happy comradeship. Silvergray seemed to beget a coolness, a singular
aloofness. If they were on the same branch together she did not sit
touching him. If he moved to where she chanced to stand, and tried, as a
thousand times before, to snuggle up, she moved away. The cloud,
whatever it was, grew bigger. In vain he sought by pleasing acts to win
her back. She had definitely turned against him, and the climax came
when one evening they climbed to their finished, set, and furnished
house. She whisked in ahead of him, then, turning suddenly, filled the
doorway with her countenance expressing defiance and hostility, her
sharp teeth menacingly displayed. She said as plainly as she could: "You
keep away; you are not wanted here."
And Bannertail, what could he do? Hurt, rebuffed, not wanted in the
house he had made and loved, turned away perforce and glumly sought his
bachelor home in the friendly old red oak.
[Illustration]
Whatever was the cause, Bannertail knew that it was his part to keep
away, at least to respond to her wishes. Next morning, after feeding, he
swung to the nesting tree. Yes, there she was on a limb--but at once she
retreated to the door and repeated the signal, "You are not wanted
here." The next day it was the same. Then on the third day she was
nowhere to be seen. Bannertail hung about hoping for a glimpse, but
none he got. Cautiously, fearfully, he climbed the old familiar
bark-way; silently arriving at the door, he gently thrust in his head.
The sweet familiar furry smell told him "yes, she was there."
He moved inward another step. Yes, there she lay curled up and
breathing. One step more; up she started with an angry little snort.
Bannertail sprang back and away, but not before he had seen and sensed
this solving of the mystery. There, snuggling together under her warm
body were three tiny little baby Squirrels.
[Illustration]
For this, indeed, it was that Mother Nature whispered messages and rules
of conduct. For this time it was she had dowered this untutored little
mother Squirrel with all the garnered wisdom of the folk before. Nor did
she leave them now, but sent the very message to Mother Squirrel and
Father Squirrel, and the little ones, too, at the very time when their
own poor knowledge must have failed.
It was the unspoken hint from her that made the little mother-soon-to-be
hide in the nesting-place some nuts with buds of slippery-elm, twigs of
spice bush, and the bitter but nourishing red acorns. In them was food
and tonic for the trying time. Water she could get near by, but even
that called for no journey forth, it chanced that a driving rain
drenched the tree, and at the very door she found enough to drink.
_BACHELOR LIFE AGAIN_