THE SQUIRREL'S STORE 345 



the small end, splits the shell in two with his long fore-teeth, 

 as a man does with his knife ; the second nibbles a hole 

 with his teeth, so regular as if drilled with a wimble, and 

 yet so small that one would wonder how the kernel can 

 be extracted through it ; while the last picks an irregular 

 ragged hole with his bill ; but as this artist has no paws to 

 hold the nut firm while he pierces it, like an adroit workman, 

 he fixes it, as it were, in a vice, in some cleft of a tree, or in 

 some crevice, when, standing over it, he perforates the 

 stubborn shell." 



Those who have kept squirrels are in general agreement 

 as to their considerable attainments in the way of intelli- 

 gence. But we are probably mistaken if we credit them 

 with any forethought of the Winter. It is more likely that 

 the storing is instinctive. This is not contradicted by 

 the fact that in mild parts of the country squirrels some- 

 times omit to store. For it is well known that instinctive 

 activities often require particular stimuli to pull the trigger 

 which leads to their expression. 



Another point of interest lies in the fact that the squirrel 

 is not much of a winter-sleeper. This makes the need for 

 storing more obvious. In very cold districts and severe 

 Winters the squirrel sleeps a good deal, but it usually lies 

 up only for a day or two at a time, and sometimes it does 

 not slumber at all. Thus in the storing device we see 

 simply one of the many ways of escaping from the grip of 

 Winter. Most of the birds fly away, the mountain hare 

 turns white as snow, the bats fall into deep sleep, most plants 

 pass into a resting stage, and so on many other creatures 

 follow the squirrel's adaptation and lay up stores for the 

 evil days. 



