THE BED SQUIRREL. 115 



revelling in berries, and nuts, and eggs, his coat 

 was glossy, his tail aloft, and life seemed a frolic 

 and all the world made for him and his. No 

 glimpse of this dreary morning clouded his day 

 of sunshine. Now he has got down to the hard 

 realities of life. Such a breakfast is a notice to 

 all beholders that winter is pressing him sore, 

 and it is at the same time an exhibition of his 

 intelligent ability to meet an emergency. There 

 is nothing very nourishing in fir brush however 

 filling it may be, but enough of it will sustain 

 life, and that is the pinch where our little " fel- 

 low-mortal " is caught. When he is driven out 

 of a warm bed by grim hunger, and obliged to 

 face a temperature below zero, and look out on 

 a world covered with snow, and no pine cones 

 in store, then he must find something that will 

 answer for food, or die. There is plenty of fir, 

 and porcupines and rabbits subsist, during the 

 winter, very largely on the bark of trees, but 

 they have inside arrangements to accommodate 

 and digest great quantities after the fashion of 

 cattle ; by eating a deal of crude material they 

 extract enough to nourish their bodies. Quite 

 otherwise with our little squirrel, his digestive 

 organs are adapted to deal with food in concen- 

 trated forms of seeds, and berries, and eggs, and 

 young birds. One beech-nut is worth more for 



