A BEAUTIFUL PEST 



By DAN BEARD 



AST night, as I sat on 

 the big piece of blue 

 stone which serves as a 

 front stoop for my log 

 house in the woods of 

 Pike County I saw a 

 flying squirrel sail down 

 from the roof to an oak 

 tree. The oak tree is 

 about sixty feet high 

 and stands upon the edge of a natural ter- 

 race, running down to the lake. The squirrel 

 ran rapidly up to the topmost branch of this 

 tree and then sprang into midair and sailed 

 out of sight, over the tops of the trees below. 

 When I first built this house, some eighteen 

 years ago, I discovered a nest of flying squir- 

 rels up over the window in one of the bed- 

 rooms, and they were so pretty and tame 

 that I left them there. But that was the 

 greatest mistake I made about my log house. 

 The flying squirrels have multiplied and in- 

 creased, and continued to increase in numbers 

 in spite of the fact that each year I capture 

 as many as I can and send them away to 

 friends in different parts of the country for 

 pets. Flying squirrels make most beautiful 

 pets, but they are worse in a house than the 

 so-called Norway brown rats. Rats can't fly. 

 When I opened my log house this season 

 the flying squirrels had nests in my rubber 

 boots, in the pockets of my hunting coat, in 

 my corduroy trousers, in my hat, had 'stopped 

 up the stove-pipe in the kitchen so that, when 

 the fire was built, the smoke drove us a-U 

 weeping from the house. They took all the 

 cotton tabs off the mattresses and carried 

 them away for nesting, unravelled the edges 

 of the rugs and carpets, and used it for the 

 same purpose and, in fact, used all the inge- 

 nuity with which Nature had endowed them 

 to do as much mischief during the "closed 

 season" as was possible. 



About four o'clock in the morning is the 

 time when the flying squirrels come home 

 from their night's orgies, and you can then 

 hear a resounding thump upon the roof, then 

 a scampering of little feet, then a scramble in 

 the walls, then a conversation in more or less 

 subdued squeaks. Then, thump after thump, 

 you hear them come until they are all home. 

 After this they gradually quiet down until all 

 is still. They wake up again at dusk of the 

 following evening, when, if it is fair, they 

 sally forth, but on rainy or stormy nights 

 they do not go out. 



An ordinary rat trap will not confine a fly- 

 ing squirrel, for so flat is his beautiful little 

 body that by using the force of his muscles 

 he can spread the wires apart far enough to 

 escape. I always use my hand, protected by 

 a glove or some similar object, and catch them 

 with that. I caught nine, in that way, in one 

 night. 



Sometimes I have turned down the bed- 

 clothes and jumped into bed to alight upon 

 a bunch of cracked nut-shells. 



Sometimes they will come and drop with a 

 thump upon the chest of one of my sleeping 

 guests, and always succeed in frightening 

 them to such an extent that the tenderfoot 

 dares not move until his eyes gradually be- 

 come accustomed to the darkness and he sees 

 the little creature sitting on his hind legs, 

 calmly washing his face with his front paws. 



Sometimes the mother squirrel objects to 

 the human animal occupying the same room 

 as her family, and then at night the aston- 

 ished tenderfoot sees the little creature run- 

 ning over the girders of the ceiling, carrying 

 her young in her mouth, taking them one by 

 one until she has deposited them in a safer 

 place and one in which her privacy is not in- 

 vaded. Flying squirrels must be given 

 plenty of exercise if they are to be kept in 

 health. 



