THE ONE WITH THE PRETTIEST TAIL

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.

After he crept down again to the nest the others climbed up, one by one, and looked out. They winked and blinked 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 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 and smells 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 an airier 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. She had driven him away before the babies came. She 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 losing his balance. So they all three scrambled backwards to the safe trunk.

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 neck, as if he were begging 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 slender 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 appeared to be always doing something. They turned summersaults 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 to look at, or, safe in a tree, they scolded at some 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.

When the young squirrels were three months old in July they were 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 just 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 ever so softly. Then, tearing off the bark in ragged pieces, they pounced upon the flat whitish grub beneath and ate it up. They were fond of mushrooms, too, and seemed to know which were poisonous and which were good to eat.

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 a branch of the next. Up and down, on and across, 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. In the oddest way he seemed to know exactly where to bore through the shell so as to strike the broad side of the kernel.

All the while the blue jays and the thrifty chipmunks were gathering nuts and corn, and hiding their stores away for the winter. That seemed so interesting that the squirrels gathered some too. The smallest one stuffed his cheeks full of nuts and scampered back to his latest home in a hollow stump. The next mouthful he brought was hidden in a fork of a tree and covered with leaves. Then he tucked away a few chestnuts in the cracks of the bark on an oak-tree. By that time he was tired of working at this, so he scurried around to find out how many nuts the other young squirrels were saving for the winter.

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. 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. Sometimes they found a delicious frozen apple or some forgotten acorns. Once the smallest squirrel happened to dig up a heap of chestnuts from between two stones under the snow. He could not remember whether he had hidden them himself or not. How he snickered and danced 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. However 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 buds and barks and seeds as best they could 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 new family of wondering little squirrels peeping out of their hollow with their round, bright eyes.