70 
NATURE NOTES 
young scamp right at the top of the trunk, stretched to his full 
length and clinging round it, his pretty head peeping round in 
search of the enemy. Poor little chap ! His enemy was longing 
to feed him with the best nuts the market can supply. 
I was in the wood again on Tuesday morning, December 30, 
when I saw five squirrels. The weather was not quite so mild 
this morning, but for the time of the year wonderfully fine. All 
the squirrels were feeding on the fir trees, and three of the five 
were seen from one sheltered spot in the pathway. The pretty 
creatures were very lively this morning. One dared to poach 
in his neighbour’s preserve, and this led to a fine scuffle. The 
intruder was chased to the top of the tree and down again. Both 
performers bunched out their tails like those of Persian cats 
or round flue brushes. A sharp hissing noise was heard similar 
to that made by a kitten when learning to swear. While 
watching those in front I fancied I heard one on the other side 
of the path behind me, but on looking round my eye somehow 
missed him, although I felt sure he was there. Many a time 
my ear has detected what has quite escaped my eye. The sound 
made by the squirrels’ feet, that prickly patter of his sharp little 
claws upon the bark, is as familiar to my ear as the note of the 
jay, and I always look round with absolute confidence when I 
hear it behind me. So sure was I that my ear had not deceived 
me that I soon turned round and looked again. There he was 
at the very top of the tree, the little monkey, feasting with both 
hands and a rare set of teeth, his beautiful tail turned up over 
his back, like a silken canopy over an open-air artist. 
The great morning, however, was Thursday, January 1. 
On the last night of the old year I was riding home on the top 
of a tram from Croydon, just before midnight, and the air was 
very keen. The New Year was going to open with a sharp 
frost, and I decided to rise early and ride to Wickham. I was 
in the wood by eight. The air was crisp and frosty. It was a cold 
winter morning, cold but fine. Would the squirrels venture 
out on such a morning ? Never before, at any time of the year, 
have I seen so many. In half an hour I had seen six, all awake 
and busy as bees. Two were evidently bent on fun. They sat 
for a minute or two and began breakfast, then went off for a 
scamper. They flashed along the branches and bounded from 
one tree to the next in the most reckless fashion. They did not 
hesitate in the least when they reached the end of the branch, 
but sprang forwards to the next as if they did not mind whether 
they cleared the intervening distance or not. You can generally 
tell before he gets to the end of a branch whether a squirrel 
intends to turn or go on ; his intention seems to inflame every 
fibre of his body, and can be recognised as easily as the smell 
of burning tobacco, or a peeled onion. Now and then, however, 
when he looks as if he meant to go on, although the next tree is 
quite beyond his reach, he flows along the bending branch to its 
very tip, and then, gracefully continuing the gentle curve, glides 
