Mammals Squirrels 
it in one hand and clasps the other hand behind the 
one which holds the dainty morsel, so as to make it 
safe. 
May 31—When he is sleepy, he scolds if I disturb 
him and turning over on his back, bats my hand with 
all of his soft little paws and pretends that he is 
going to bite. 
June 4—Furry ranges around the room now to 
please himself. He is a little mischief; he tips over 
his cup of milk and has commenced gnawing off the 
wall paper behind the book-shelf to make him a nest. 
The paper is green and will probably make him sorry. 
June 5—This morning Furry was hidden in a roll 
of paper. I put my hand over one end of the roll and 
then reached in with the other hand to get him; but 
he got me instead, because he ran up my sleeve and 
was much more contented to be there than I was to 
have him. I was glad enough when he left his hiding 
place and climbed to the top shelf of the bookcase, 
far beyond my reach. 
June 6—I have not seen Furry for twenty-four 
hours, but he is here surely enough. Last night he 
tipped over the ink bottle and scattered nut shells 
over the floor. He prefers pecans to any other nuts. 
June 7—I caught Furry to-day and he bit my finger 
so it bled. But afterwards, he cuddled in my hand 
for a long time and then climbed my shoulder and 
went hunting around in my hair and wanted to stay 
there and make a nest. When I took him away, he 
pulled out his two hands full of my devoted tresses. 
I'll not employ him as a hairdresser. 
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