NOVEMBER DAYS 
3 i 
Every nature lover ought to be able to tell a 
good November squirrel story and the following 
has no merit except that of being strictly true. The 
red squirrel was making a big rustling among the 
dry leaves in search of nuts and he was startled 
when he suddenly caught sight of a stranger. Fol¬ 
lowing his natural inclination he bounded into a 
tree, but it happened to have a long horizontal 
limb and along this he ran directly towards the 
“enemy.” For a moment the representative of the 
genus Sciurus and the representative of the genus 
Homo stood still and looked at each other face to 
face. Then, much to the surprise of the latter, 
the former came forward along the limb until he 
sat in the fork of the branch not more than ten 
feet away, sitting straight up, his eyes shining. 
The kodak was cautiously lifted, the lever pushed 
over, the squirrel paused for perhaps half a minute. 
Then at the first tones of the human voice he 
bounded back among the dry leaves and thence up 
another tree. 
Poor little squirrel. Some heartless pot-hunter 
has doubtless bagged him ere this. 
November in Iowa, brings the first snow. And 
no matter how dreary the snows may become before 
the winter has ended, the first snow is always beau¬ 
tiful. Its approach may be known by the antics of 
