At the commencement of this series of articles I referred to the squirrel, and quoted the words in which Mr. Ruskin describes his unbounded admiration for this sprightly little fellow. The squirrel has a very voracious appetite, however, and if he once by accident or design tastes the luscious richness of pheasant or partridge egg he becomes a poacher of very extreme character. Game-keepers do not object to squirrels as a rule, as long as they confine themselves to those parts of a covert where game are not, though in the case of largely stocked preserves these parts are not easily found.

When Master “Squiggy,” however, takes to sucking eggs and teaching his grandmother and uncles, aunts and cousins, to do the same, then it becomes a manifest duty to snare him and take him away if you do not kill him. Of course it is not likely that my boy readers will be called upon to assist professionally in such a proceeding, but I will briefly describe how squirrels may be caught alive, for when removed from the place of mischief they make capital pets after a time of patience and taming.

It is necessary for two to embark in the proceedings that follow. One is the climber, and he, I need scarcely say, should be a tolerably good one. A pair of climbing irons are almost indispensable, and I should certainly advise boys to get them. He is also provided with a long pole with a loop of fine twisted brass wire attached to it (Fig. 1).

Now let us term these two warriors A and B. Having spotted a squirrel and observed him run up a tree, A attaches his irons and prepares to climb. Before this is done B stands beneath the tree and attracts the squirrel’s attention, and keeps his eye fixed on him, B never moving from where he stands. Meanwhile A is gradually approaching from behind the squirrel, and when he is near enough he slips the loop over the creature’s head, gives a sharp wrench, and lets the pole, squirrel, and all drop to the ground to be secured by B. Of course the squirrel is almost choked, but a firm hand in a thick leather glove soon releases the frightened animal, and you have to do with him as your pleasure will. You ought to take a bag with you and instantly pop him into it. This is the way the men catch squirrels in the country, and is far better than trapping them so as to cause pain.

I have thus told you how to catch squirrels without materially hurting them, and I suppose I may as well tell you how to keep them. Well, having caught the lively young gentleman, keep him in the dark for a day or two, only occasionally letting him get a glance of the outer world. Feed him during this period with beechnuts, chestnuts, and by all means let him have plenty of water. After a time you may take away all covering from his cage and let him, like yourself, enjoy the glories of the sunlight. In a very short space of time his captivity will cease to be so irksome, especially if for the first week or two you use him to only seeing yourself near.

The squirrel, or at least the common red one of our forest, seems remarkably intelligent, and its humors vary almost as much in comparison as those of a child. I kept four, having brought them up from the nest, and their antics and different moods were a source of continued amusement. Sometimes Tom would quarrel with a sort of mimic anger with Jill, and Jim and Sam were almost continually finding fault with each other over poor unfortunate Lady Jill, whose chief misfortune seemed to be that she preferred Tom to either of the others. The affection seemed to be returned, for if we gave a piece of potato to Tom he instantly passed it over to Jill and shared it. Sometimes entire good-humor would prevail, when the gambols with each other were a very pretty sight. This was generally on a fine sunny spring morning after a good meal of nuts. The cage was large, and a sort of leap-frog was kept up for half an hour, ending by somebody getting Tom’s temper out over Miss Jill. I never had a bite from either, and this I attribute to my never handling them unnecessarily, and never being afraid to take hold of them carefully but firmly.

Their end was a sad one. I acquired a splendid Persian cat, and the strangeness of a new habitation made Miss Pussy very spiteful and bad-tempered. One day I had turned out the four squirrels in order to clean the cage thoroughly, and they as usual betook themselves out of the window. With a sudden bound Puss had poor Jill, and with one scrunch she was dead. Puss then bounded after the others, and they escaping up a large yew tree I lost sight of all but one forever. What ultimately became of Jim and Sam I never knew, but Tom would often show himself in the tree and look down with eyes which seemed to say mournfully, “Ah, you’ve killed my little wife between you, and I’m not such a coon as to trust myself within range of her murderers.” Shortly after this we removed, and thus ended my squirrel-keeping, not, however, without much regret on my side at least.