238 Hafidhook of N ature-Stiidy 



FURRY 



"URRY was a baby red squirrel. One day 

 in Ma)' his mother was moving him from 

 one tree to another. He was chnging 

 with his Httle arms around her neck and 

 his body clasped tightly against her breast, 

 when something frightened her and in her 

 sudden movement, she dropped her heavy 

 baby in the grass. Thus, I inherited him 

 and entered upon the rather onerous 

 duties of caring for a baby of whose needs I knew little; but I knew that 

 every well cared for baby should have a book detailing all that happens to 

 it, therefore, I made a book for Furry, writing in it each day the things 

 he did. If the children who have pets keep similar books, they will find 

 them most interesting reading afterward, and they will surely enjoy 

 the writing very much. 



Extracts from Furry s Note-hook 



May 18, 1902 — The baby squirrel is just large enough to cuddle in one 

 hand. He cuddles all right when once he is captured; but he is a terrible 

 fighter, and when I attempt to take him in my hand, he scrtaches and 

 bites and growls so that I have been obliged to name him Fury. I told 

 him, however, if he improved in temper I would change his name to Furry. 



May 19 — Fury greets me, when I open his box, with the most awe- 

 inspiring little growls, which he calculates will make me turn pale with 

 fear. He has not cut his teeth yet, so he cannot bite very severely, but 

 that isn't his fault, for he tries hard enough. The Naturalist said cold 

 milk would kill him, so I warmed the milk and put it in a teaspoon and 

 placed it in front of his nose; he batted the spoon with both forepaws 

 and tried to bite it, and thus got a taste of the milk, which he drank eagerly 

 lapping it up like a kitten. When I hold him in one hand and cover him 

 with the other, he turns contented little somersaults over and over. 



May 20 — Fury bit me only once to-day, when I took him out to feed 

 him. He is cutting his teeth on my devoted fingers. I tried giving him 

 grape-nuts soaked in milk, but he spat it out in disgust. Evidently he 

 does not believe he needs a food for brain and nerve. He always washes 

 his face as soon as he is through eating. 



May 21 — Fury lies curled up under his blanket all day. Evidently 

 good little squirrels stay quietly in the nest, when the mother is not at 

 home to give them permission to run around. When Fury sleeps, he rolls 

 himself up in a little ball with his tail wrapped closely around him. The 

 squirrel's tail is his "furs," which he wraps around him to keep his back 

 warm when he sleeps in winter. 



May 23 — Every time I meet Uncle John he asks, "Is his name Fury or 

 Furry now?" Uncle John is much interested in the good behavior of even 

 little squirrels. As Fury has not bitten me hard for two days, I think I 

 will call him Furry after this. He ate some bread soaked in milk to-day, 

 holding it in his hands in real squirrel fashion. I let him run around the 

 room and he liked it. 



May 25 — Furry got away from me this morning and I did not find him 

 for an hour. Then I discovered him in a pasteboard box of drawing 

 paper with the cover on. How did he squeeze through? 



