THE RED SQUIRREL. 117 



or boys he will take refuge in a tree, but he is 

 uneasy and soon makes a dash for liberty down 

 the trunk, in the maddest defiance of danger 

 that often ends in death. Only in his den or 

 some dark hole does he feel safe. On the 

 branches he is clumsy and easily shaken down. 

 Not so our red squirrel : he loves the trees. Just 

 watch him as he makes his way from limb to 

 limb in the forests, swiftly and surely, till one 

 must run to keep up with his movements. On 

 the ground he is quick and sprightly, and on a 

 fence next to a tree he can show to advantage 

 all his best points. He fearlessly and swiftly 

 swims a river, and makes use of a chip or any 

 bit of floating wood for a raft if it comes in his 

 reach. I have paddled my birch canoe across the 

 course of a swimming squirrel ; quick as a flash 

 he sprang into it and over it and made for the 

 shore again. Thus we see that he is an all- 

 round fellow, on the ground, in the water, 

 on the trees he is at home. He looks the bright, 

 smart chap that he is. He challenges me in the 

 forest from a lofty perch with a saucy call, and 

 then begins to jerk himself down the tree to 

 make a nearer acquaintance, till of a sudden 

 he turns with a cry of alarm and scurries 

 back to his perch, only to repeat that perform- 

 ance as long as one likes to watch him. His 



