I 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 cUmb 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 riis in 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 



