A WALK ROUND THE ZOO 251 



I do not know one of these squirrels that has 

 anything like a cache into which it puts a quantity 

 of food, though it is likely that the lucky possessors 

 of hollow limbs for nesting in use them as stores 

 in autumn. It seems as though every inch of 

 ground contained its nut. Often a squirrel that 

 you fondly hoped was coming to your bag will 

 dig just where it happens to be, fish up a nut of 

 its own, crack it and eat it. I should think that 

 by and by mice or voles will increase under the 

 trees where the squirrels are, and then we shall 

 need owls to keep them in check. The squirrels 

 already seem about as numerous as they ought to 

 be. I hope some of their numbers will be drafted 

 to our other London parks. 



From the vestibule of squirreldom we enter the 

 Zoo itself by the south gate. We probably find 

 if we look for it a tree kangaroo coiled up asleep in 

 the sun on the roof of the ticket-lodge. He, too, 

 comes from the squirrel's yard in the Zoo, daily 

 climbing out and coming just as far as the entrance 

 gate, as if to show that he may come out into the 

 park if he likes. The squirrels were purposely 

 let out, but the woolly tree kangaroo is a truant 

 that has found its way over the supposed un- 

 climbable railings. 



Immediately on our left are the cattle sheds. 

 The yards are in front, and a very large percentage 

 of visitors never enter the sheds. Here, however, 

 are to be seen calves of rare species long before 

 they go out into the yards. The British wild 



