XVI. 



A SQUIRREL'S NEST. 



I HAD long known there must be a squirrel's nest in 

 the big tree at the corner of the avenue, for I have often 

 remarked split shells of hazel-nuts lying about loosely at 

 its roots ; and nut-shells split in such a fashion always 

 indicate the presence of a squirrel. There are three 

 creatures in England that largely feed upon filberts the 

 squirrel, the field-mouse, and the nuthatch ; and when 

 you find an empty nut you can easily tell which of the 

 three has been at it by the way they each adopt in get- 

 ting out the kernel. The squirrel holds the nut firmly 

 between his fore-paws, rasps off the sharp end by gnaw- 

 ing it across, and then splits the soft fresh shell down 

 longitudinally with his long front teeth, exactly in the 

 same way as a ploughboy splits it with a side-jerk of his 

 jack-knife. The field-mouse presses the nut against the 

 ground with his feet, and drills a very small hole in it 

 with his sharp incisors, through which, by turning the 

 shell round and round in his paws, he picks out the ker- 

 nel piecemeal. The nuthatch, having no paws to spare, 

 fixes the filbert in the fork of a small branch or the 

 chink of a post, and pecks an irregular breach in it with 

 his hard beak ; the breach being easily distinguishable 

 from the neat workmanlike round gimlet-hole made by 

 the field-mouse. But although I knew the squirrel was 

 there by circumstantial evidence, I had never seen him 

 till after the great storm tore up the tree, roots and all, 

 and strewed it, a huge ruin, right across the face of the 



