The four baby squirrels were tired of staying in their soft nest in the
hollow tree. They wanted to find out what was going on in the world
outside.
As they cuddled together in the shadowy hole they could hear the
queerest sounds. They cocked their heads curiously at the rustling
and whispering of the wind among the leaves. They heard chirping and
singing, and a silvery tinkle, tinkle from the brook.
Once a bee flew buzzing right over their heads, and made them clutch
one another in terror.
One morning, when the old mother squirrel was away hunting for birds’
eggs to eat, the smallest baby crept to the mouth of the hole and
peeped out with his round bright eyes.
All around and above him there were wonderful green things flickering
and fluttering. Twinkles of sunlight danced through the leaves and
dazzled him. Something soft and cool blew back the new bristles on his
lips and ruffled his satiny red fur.
He was so much interested that he sat there, staring and staring, till
the other little ones began to squeak and scold him for shutting out
the light.
[Illustration]
After he crept down again to the nest the others climbed up, one by
one, and looked out. They blinked and winked at each wonderful sight;
they sniffed the strange odors, and twitched their eager little heads
at every new sound.
The scream of a blue jay in the tree-top above them sent them
scampering inside again, to cuddle close together in the darkest
corner. It was fun to see something new and exciting, even if it did
make them shiver all over.
Soon the mother squirrel came springing from branch to branch to reach
the hollow.
How the babies squeaked and chattered in welcome! Very likely they told
her about the wonderful sights and sounds in the strange world outside
the hole.
The smallest one clasped his fore paws around her neck, and coaxed her
to let them all go out to find more interesting things. It was stupid
there in the dark nest, with nothing to watch except the patch of light
across the opening above them.
The old squirrel knew that the little ones were not strong enough yet
to leave the nest.
To be sure, they had grown and changed very much since the first days.
Then they had been ugly little creatures, like tiny pug dogs, with big
heads, no fur, and their eyes tight shut.
Now they were half as big as she was herself. Their eyes were like
jewels, and their red fur was smooth as satin.
But their tails, with only fringes of hair along the sides, were not
nearly so fluffy as the mother’s. Her tail was long and plumy. It
curved so gracefully over her back that she seemed to be sitting in its
shadow. One name of the squirrel is “shadow-tail.”
For a few weeks longer the four babies scrambled about the doorway and
looked longingly out at the wonderful green tree-world. They did not
dare to step out upon the slender branches, for fear of falling off.
It made them feel dizzy to look away down to the ground below. They did
not know how to cling to the limbs with their feet while they balanced
themselves with their tails.
When the young squirrels were almost strong enough to learn to run and
climb in the tree, the mother began to build another home higher up the
trunk. The old nest was growing too warm for comfort, as summer brought
the long sunny hours.
The squirrel father was not there to help his mate.
The mother squirrel thought the tree belonged to her, and that she
needed all the room in the hollow for her little ones. She chased him
off to live in the woods with all the other squirrel fathers till the
babies were big enough to take care of themselves.
The mother squirrel worked on the new nest in the early morning. She
bit off leafy twigs and carried them to the top of the tree. There,
where two branches forked, she packed the sticks and leaves together in
a loose ball.
Then she pushed a doorway through, at one side or another, just as she
happened to be standing.
This was not such a neat home as one in the next tree. That other
mother squirrel built her new nest of strips of bark tied together with
ribbons of soft fibre. Over the doorway she hung a curtain of bark, and
lifted it up carefully whenever she went inside.
At last the new home was ready. The old mother hurried down to the
hollow and called the babies to come out and follow her. They stepped
out, one after another, just as carefully as they could.
The smallest baby came last. He dug his claws into the bark and hung
on. The branch seemed so narrow that he trembled from fear of falling.
The tree swayed in the wind. The branch bounced up and down, and a
leaf blew in his face. The poor little fellow shut his eyes, because
everything seemed to be whirling round and round.
When he opened his eyes again he saw the three other little ones
climbing up the trunk above him. They clutched the bark with their
claws, and moved forward, one paw at a time.
The mother was running on ahead of them. Every few steps she turned
around to coax them on faster.
Finally they reached a narrow branch which led over to the new nest.
They crawled out on it, lifting one foot and then setting it down
before lifting another.
The farther they crept the narrower the branch grew under them. Their
little paws began to slip over the smoother bark. The one in front
tried to turn around, but he was afraid of falling. So they all three
scrambled backwards to the safe trunk.
[Illustration]
The mother ran back to them, and chattered and scolded. Again and again
they started out over the branch, and then went scrambling back.
When at last the mother had coaxed them across to the nest she looked
around for the smallest baby. There he was, away down at the door of
the old nest.
The old squirrel was tired out. Her fur was ruffled and her ears
drooped. She ran down to the nest and began to scold the little
fellow. He sat up and put his paws around her to let him stay there.
But she started him up the trunk and pushed him along to the branch.
Then she took hold of him by the neck and carried him across to the new
home.
After that the little ones were taken out every morning to practise
climbing. Little by little they learned to balance themselves on the
branches. Their tails were fluffy enough by this time to be of use in
balancing.
First to one side, then to the other, each baby tilted his tail as he
crept along, step by step. Every day they could move a little faster.
Finally they were able to chase one another up and down, from branch to
branch.
They went running around the trunks, skipping and leaping from twig to
twig, and jumping from one tree to another, even through the air.
Sometimes one or another missed his footing after a reckless jump.
Often he caught hold of a branch below by a single toe and lifted
himself up to a firmer foothold.
Or, if there was no branch within reach, he spread out his fur, and
flattened his tail, and went sailing down to the ground, almost as if
he could fly. They never seemed to get hurt.
The little squirrels seemed to be always doing something. They turned
somersaults in the grass, or swung by one paw from the tip of a tough
branch.
There was always something to do or to see. Now they chattered at a
blue jay, or chased a toad for the fun of watching him hop. Now they
caught beetles or scolded at a fox slinking along through the woods.
And every day there was the excitement of finding something to eat.
The babies lived on milk till they were almost as heavy as their
mother. Then she began to feed them with fruit and buds and grubs,
which she first chewed for them.
Like the beavers and the hares and rabbits, each had four chisel teeth
in the front of its mouth. They needed to gnaw hard nuts or bark every
day to keep these teeth from growing too long.
The young squirrels were three months old in July and were then big
enough to take care of themselves. Away they scampered from the old
home tree and found new homes in stumps and hollows. The smallest one
used to curl up in an old robin’s nest to sleep at night.
All day long they were as busy as they could be. There were cones to be
gathered from the evergreens. The little squirrels ran up the trees in
a hurry, and, cutting off the cones with their sharp teeth, tossed them
over their shoulders to the ground. Every few minutes they scurried
down to bury the cones under the pine needles for the winter.
Sometimes a drop of sticky pitch from the cut stems was rubbed against
their fur. That made them so uncomfortable that they had to stop and
lick it off.
The squirrels loved to be clean. Ever since they were tiny babies, with
their new red fur, they always helped one another with washing their
faces and combing their tails with their claws.
They were careful to run along logs over a muddy spot. If one happened
to get wet he dried himself with his fluffy tail.
When they were tired of eating seeds and twigs they hunted for grubs.
Clinging to the bark of a dead tree, they listened till they heard
something gnawing beneath the surface. Then, tearing off the bark in
ragged pieces, they pounced upon the flat whitish grub beneath and ate
him up.
But the best time of all came in the autumn when nuts were ripe. Then
what fun the little squirrels had! Early every morning out popped
the little heads from the hollow stumps and logs. The big round eyes
twinkled eagerly in every direction. Then, whisk! they were out, with a
bark and a squeak!
Scampering to the top of a tree, each one took a flying leap to the
next tree. Up and down they followed the squirrel-paths through the
woods till they reached the grove, where the nuts were ripening.
It was a busy place, with little wings fluttering and little feet
pattering, and yellow leaves drifting down in the sunshine. All the
squirrels scurried to and fro, picking one nut here, and another there.
They sat on the branches, with their bushy tails curving over their
backs, and held the nuts in their fore paws to nibble. The smallest
baby could open the hardest walnut and clean it out in less than a
minute.
All the while the blue jays and the thrifty chipmunks were gathering
nuts and corn, and hiding their stores for the winter. That seemed so
interesting that the squirrels gathered some, too.
Autumn passed away, and the days grew colder. In the woods the leaves
were all fallen and the branches were stripped bare of nuts.
Every morning when the squirrels poked out their heads the air nipped
their noses. Frost sparkled on the dead grass. The chipmunks had crept
into their holes for the winter, and most of the birds had flown away
south.
The squirrels were not quite so gay now as in the autumn days, when
they danced upon the branches and whistled and chuckled over the good
things to eat and the curious sights to see. They slept with their warm
tails wrapped over their noses.
[Illustration]
They still ran busily through the tree-tops, except when snow or icy
rain kept them shut within their holes. They ate all the nuts they
could find, and dug up the buried pine cones. They climbed the hemlock
trees and ate the seeds.
Once the smallest squirrel happened to dig up a heap of nuts from
between two stones under the snow. He could not remember whether he had
hidden them himself or not. How he squealed when he saw them!
Late in the winter the squirrels had eaten all the nuts and cones
within reach. They were so hungry on many a day that they tried to
creep into a chipmunk’s hole and steal his store of food. But he was
smaller than they were, and he had wisely made one bend in his tunnel
too small for them to pass.
Then they had to live on bark and seeds till spring started the tender
green plants to growing.
The squirrels gnawed the bark of the maple trees and drank the sweet
sap that came oozing out. Later there were elm buds to nibble and
birds’ eggs to suck. The woods were once more green with juicy leaves.
All the squirrels went to housekeeping. Soon in almost every tree there
was a family of squirrels peeping out with their round, bright eyes.
—_Julia A. Schwartz._