OUR GRAY SQUIRRELS 13 
little affection, or, at any rate, makes little demon- 
stration of it. It is selfish. It wants you as a 
friend only for what it can get out of you, and 
these are not terms upon which love grows. Its 
big eyes are like jewels, but they never melt with 
the fond delight of the dog in your companionship 
and approval. The squirrel may climb to your 
shoulder, and explore your pockets for sweets; 
but never will he leap into your lap and curl up 
there for the enjoyment of being with you, and 
purr contentedly over it as does your cat. He has 
no monkey-like antics with which to amuse you — 
no melodious tones to beguile your ear; and one 
who knows him as an acrobat of the tree-tops can 
only look with pity upon his performance within 
the limits of a whirling treadmill, such as is usu- 
ally attached to squirrel cages. 
Though the squirrels in this rus zz urbe of our 
grove have few enemies, they have never lost their 
wariness. Sometimes a tremendous clamor will 
break out in the tree-tops—a mixture of sharp 
ch-r-r-r-rs and whines, easily intelligible to us as 
notes of alarm and indignation. These usually 
mean that a strange dog or cat is somewhere near. 
No hawks or owls (save the little screech-owl) ever 
come to disturb them, and, of course, none of the 
wild-cats, weasels, or large serpents which kill 
them in the wild forest is here to molest or make 
them afraid, yet the population of the grove never 
seems to increase, though the eight or ten pairs 
