1 8 WILD NEIGHBORS chap. 



thoroughly the moment my back is turned; and 

 when once the house was reoccupied after a long 

 vacancy, we caught the squirrels peeping in at the 

 windows and hopping gingerly to the sill of each 

 open door, to make sure the matter was all right. 



It is most amusing to watch them on these tours 

 of inspection. Two or three times a day each one 

 makes the rounds of the premises, racing along 

 the fences, and into one tixe after another, as if 

 to make certain that nothing had gone wrong. 

 He will halt on the summit of each post, rear up, 

 and look all about him ; or, if his keen ears hear 

 an unwonted sound, will drop down upon all-fours, 

 ready to run, his tail held over his back like a 

 silver-edged plume, twitching nervously and jerk- 

 ing with each sharp utterance, as though it were 

 connected with his vocal organs by a string. " All 

 his movements," said Thoreau, "imply a spectator." 



The excessive inquisitiveness I have described 

 often gets them into trouble, and is taken advan- 

 tage of by their enemies. A wise serpent will coil 

 himself at the foot of a tree where squirrels are 

 playing, and will slowly wave his tail or display 

 his red tongue, sure that the squirrels will see him. 

 Doubtless they know him for what he is — a deadly 

 enemy ; but they cannot resist a nearer look at 

 the curious object and that extraordinary motion. 

 Whining, chr-r-r-ring, barking, they creep down 

 the tree-trunk. The snake lies ready, his unwink- 

 ing eyes fixed upon the excited little quadruped. 



