LITTLE MITCHELL’S HAPPY DAYS

Little Mitchell was a very happy squirrel in his Boston home. His lady’s room had a large bay-window in the end, that looked out over the tops of the houses and away off up the beautiful Charles River; and there was a large platform, almost like a little room, in the bay-window, and here, by the side of the writing-table, stood his cage. Its door was always open when the lady was at home, and he had glorious frolics all about the big room.

He climbed everywhere, but the best fun was racing over the Japanese screen. The lady had no tree for him to climb, so she gave him the screen to play with; and up and down it he would go, now this side, now that. But he had the best time biting the eyes out of the birds on the screen and unravelling the embroidery.

Then he would sit up on top of the screen and gnaw away at the wooden frame. You see, when he was spoiling the screen he was not spoiling anything else; and as he liked the screen better than anything else, his lady said he might as well eat it up if he wanted to, so she gave it to him.

It was very funny to see him go up the side of the screen, which stood upright, you know, like the wall of a house. His claws were as sharp as a cat’s, and he would hold on by his front feet, and jump up with his hind feet and get a new hold with his front ones, and so on. He looked as though he went hopping up the screen. And it was funnier still when he came down head-first.

But funniest of all was to see him hang by his hind toes, head down, and play with his tail! He was very fond of playing with his tail, and when he was on the floor he would often chase it just as a kitten does. It was a fine tail by this time, long and bushy; and when he got excited he would fluff it out until it looked like a real grown-up squirrel’s tail.

But talking of tails, the most outrageously funny thing Little Mitchell ever did was to roll himself up into a ball, with his tail hugged in his arms and held between his teeth, then go over and over, like a ball, from one end of the platform to the other.

The first time the lady saw him, she was rather startled,—she could not imagine for a moment what that queer soft-looking ball was, rolling so fast about the platform. How she did laugh when she saw that it was only Little Mitchell amusing himself! She had never seen a squirrel or anything else act like that before.

He was so funny playing about the room, hanging by his toes from the screen and rolling around like a ball, that the lady could do nothing but watch him when he was out of the cage. She said he wasted all her time; and he certainly did waste a great deal of it.

The first thing in the morning, he had to be fed and given a drink of fresh water. He ate all sorts of nuts now, but he would not crack the hard ones himself. The lady used to bring home any nice new nuts that she saw when she was out, and Little Mitchell was always on hand to open her parcels. He enjoyed opening them as much as you do when your mother comes home from shopping. If he found nuts, he would get into the bag and paw them all over, and at last run off with one. If there were no nuts, he would sniff at everything, and then go off, though sometimes he found something he liked to play with in the parcels.

When he was hungry, he insisted on sitting upon the lady’s knee to eat his nuts. Of course he could sit up as well as anybody now, and hold the nut in his funny little hands. Some people would say paws; but if a squirrel has not hands, then nobody has. Just watch one take a nut and turn it over and over with those hands, and finally hold it firmly between those ridiculous little nubbins that are his thumbs, while he gnaws it. And then watch him comb his tail with his fingers, and wash his face with his hands, and catch your watch-chain when you dangle it in front of him. Only, you see, he always uses both hands at once. At least Little Mitchell did, for the lady never saw him take anything in one hand alone. And he did not pick up things with his hands,—he picked up his nuts with his mouth, and then took them in his hands.

Didn’t he crack any of his nuts himself? Oh yes, indeed, he cracked the almonds and beech-nuts, and such soft-shelled ones, as cleverly as you could have done it yourself. But when it came to hickory nuts and filberts, he wouldn’t even try to crack them; he would go and poke them into his lady’s hand for her to crack, or else he would hide them away.

He knew perfectly well, when she got out the little hammer, that she was going to crack his nuts,—and a hard time she had not to crack his nose too, for he insisted upon poking it under the hammer, to see how the nuts were getting on, I suppose.

Peanuts? Oh, he wouldn’t touch a peanut,—not if he were ever so hungry. He wouldn’t open one, and he wouldn’t eat it if the lady opened it for him. No,—he wouldn’t look at peanuts. But he would eat beech-nuts until you wondered where in the world he put them all. And pecan nuts he liked almost as well, only of course the lady had to crack them for him.

He knew a good nut from a bad one, too, before opening it. You could be very sure that if he threw down a beech-nut or an almond without trying to open it, there was nothing fit to eat inside. How he knew, I cannot tell; but the rascal did know. I suppose it was some of that squirrel wisdom that kept coming to him as he grew older.

He used to drink from a tumbler in those days; but he would not take it between his lips, as he used to take the spoon. He would stand up, holding on to the edge with his hands, and then drink, making a great noise while doing it. It was just the way children sometimes drink when they are naughty; but he was not naughty,—he didn’t know any better, and it was all so cunning his lady did not try to teach him.

She made up her mind, though, that she would teach him a great many things, he was so gentle and affectionate and intelligent.

But he was something of a nuisance about wasting her time. For one thing, she had to brush his coat every morning; and he would sit quite still to have his head and ears brushed. He would turn his head first one side, then the other, so that his ears could be brushed all around and back of them, inside and out. But as soon as his ears were washed, he thought that was enough, and that it was time for some fun; so he would catch hold of the brush and bite it, and kick at it with his hind feet like a kitten playing, and when the lady scolded him he would sit still for about a second, then he would snatch at the brush again, or maybe suddenly fly off from her knee and across the room. But she always brought him back, and made him stay until his fur was nicely brushed from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.

The tail was the hardest to fix. How he would act when she got to his tail! He knew it was time for some fun then, and he would jerk the brush out of his lady’s hand, and run away with it in his mouth, and when she caught him and took it away he would catch hold of his tail and begin to comb it very fast himself with his hands and his front teeth.

Did he ever get over crying when his mouth was wiped? Oh no, after every drink of water he screamed in the same naughty way if the lady wiped his mouth. He much preferred springing upon her and wiping it very hard on the front of her dress. I suppose he thought laces and ribbons were made for squirrels to wipe their faces on!

But he did love his lady. He did not want to be away from her a moment. Sometimes, when he ran across the front of her waist to get to her shoulder, she would drop a little kiss on his furry coat as he passed. Then what would he do? Run on without noticing it? Oh no; he would stop for just the fraction of a second, and give one soft touch of his little velvety tongue to her cheek, and then race on again.

Sometimes he would lick her hands like a little dog; and if she was busy, he couldn’t possibly let her alone. If she was writing, he would take hold of the pen and shake it, and bite at her fingers, and turn somersaults in her lap, and caper so she couldn’t do a thing but stop and play with him, as though he were a little monkey.

He liked to have her tousle him about, as you do a kitten, upside down, and tickling his little white neck and chest with her fingers; and he would make believe bite, and really scratch just like a kitten. You see, his little claws were as sharp as any cat’s claws; and though he did not mean to hurt her at all, he scratched her hands all over until they were a sight to see. Then she had to stop playing that way, and instead she took a long lead-pencil, and he would bite at that and catch it in all four of his feet, and hang from it like a sloth, back down, and she would swing him back and forth, as though he were a hammock suspended from the ends of the pencil. He thought that was great fun, and so did the lady.

As to sewing, she couldn’t do a bit of it if he was out of his cage, for he insisted upon helping, and caught hold of the thread and tangled it all up. It was such fun to see the lady’s hands go back and forth, that he would jump at them, and she was afraid that she would stick the needle into his nose or his eye. With the scissors it was even worse; she couldn’t so much as snip a thread without running the risk of clipping something off him,—one of his feet, or his nose, or the end of his tail. He seemed to be all over everything at once.

Of course she could have shut him up in his cage, but she didn’t like to do that, it made him so unhappy. He would shake the cage door, and bite at it, and do everything he could think of to coax her to let him out.

Of course he wasn’t bothering her every minute, though when he was not playing with her she had to keep sharp watch of him, for she never knew what he might do next, excepting when he was taking a sun-bath on the platform. For when the sun flooded the big windows, nice and warm, he would flatten himself out on the floor, and stretch first one leg, then another, and finally he would open his mouth and yawn, and show his four front teeth, two above and two below, that looked very long and sharp.

For that is the way the squirrel-folk have their teeth,—two long, sharp ones in the front of the upper jaw, and two opposite them in the front of the lower jaw. These teeth are like little chisels, and it is with them they gnaw wood so easily. Not that they have only four teeth,—they have others, away back in the mouth, that look something like our back teeth, and are used for the same purpose—to chew the food.

Well, when Little Mitchell went to take a sun-bath, the lady was glad, you may be sure; for then she knew he would be out of mischief for a little while. But it did not last long. He was soon up and off to see what he could do next.

He had soon collected a number of things to play with. If the lady missed any little thing, she was always sure who had run away with it. His pet plaything at this time was a little white envelope that had had a visiting-card in it. He fished the envelope out of the scrap-basket and carried it about for a long time, and then hid it away under the corner of a sofa pillow. He was always hiding his things, and the lady was always finding them in the queerest places. He used to put nuts in her slippers, and one day he even tried to drop nuts down her back. She never knew what she would find in the sleeves of her dresses when she took them out of the closet.

At last she collected all his playthings that she could find,—the little envelope, a big button, a hard cracker, a piece of cooky, a small pine-cone, three acorns, a worsted ball, and a butternut,—and put them in a little basket on the bureau. Very soon, you may be sure, Little Mitchell found them. The first thing his lady knew, he was sitting on the very corner of the bureau, with his cracker in his hands, nibbling it. Then he took a taste of the cooky; next he hauled out the little envelope, and had a joyous time hauling everything out of the basket.

What do you think he did next?

To the lady’s great astonishment, he put them all back again!

He took the greatest fancy to the little basket; and ever after, when he took his things out of it, he put at least part of them back again. He seemed to think they were safely hidden there.

He had such a hard time hiding things! All his extra nuts he wished to bury; for that is the way with the squirrel-folk, you know, and though Little Mitchell had never seen a squirrel bury anything, he could not get over wanting to do it. His favorite place, next to the folds of the lady’s dress, was the deer-skin that lay on the platform. It was a beautiful skin from his own mountains, where the deer still run wild.

But the hair on a deer is short and stiff; so there was not much chance to hide anything in it. Yet how Little Mitchell did try! He would hold in his mouth the nut to be buried, while he dug very fast indeed with his hands,—that is, he went through the motions of digging, for of course he couldn’t dig a hole in the deer-skin.

When he had dug long enough, he would poke the nut down under the hair on the skin, and then pat it all down nicely on top. Only when he got through there was the nut in plain sight! Poor little chap! He would try again and again, and at last give the nut a good patting, and scamper off. He often succeeded in getting the nuts out of sight under the hair; and a funny skin it was to walk over then, all hubbly with hard nuts!

Another trick was to hide the nuts all over his lady as she sat reading, and when she got up a perfect shower of nuts would rattle out upon the floor.

You should have seen the little fellow play with a ball tied to a string!—across the room and back again, around and around he would chase it, just like a kitten. But he was ever so much quicker and funnier than a kitten, and prettier, too, with that bushy tail of his flirting and curving about.

You see how it was,—he had nobody but his lady to play with, and he just had to play; so he learned all sorts of funny little tricks that squirrels in the woods, who have each other to chase and who have to put away their winter stores, have no time for.

Do you know how he learned to sit in the doll’s chair?

The lady got a little wooden chair and table to give to a little girl; but before she gave them away she thought she would see if she couldn’t teach Little Mitchell to sit in the chair. So she let him get quite hungry one day; then she put him in the chair with one hand while she gave him a nice cracked nut with the other.

He was so eager to eat his nut that he never moved! She drew the table up in front of him, with some nuts and a little red apple lying on it, and Little Mitchell sat there like a well-behaved child and ate his supper. He soon got used to it, and if he felt like it he would sit still in the tiny rocking-chair and eat his nuts; but sometimes he would jump up and tip over the chair, table, and everything else.

He liked apples. He liked to have a whole one, so he could roll it around and play with it. You should have seen him try to hold it in his hands like a nut! When he found he couldn’t, he would crouch down close to it and gnaw a hole in the skin. But don’t imagine he would swallow the skin! He wouldn’t, not a bit! He flung it away, as he did the nut-shells, and ate the soft pulp inside.

He did not often get a whole apple, because the lady did not like to have the bits of skin thrown about the floor. You see, he would go to work and peel half the apple before he took a bite. He seemed to do this for fun; but he never picked up the little pieces of skin he flung about.

But much as he liked apples, he liked grapes better; and these he could hold in his hands. He looked very pretty, sitting up with his bushy tail showing above his head and a big yellow California grape in his hands.

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