but so narrow was the passage that he 
could not push his way in; his wings 
were too prominent. He backed away 
a few steps and looked at the crack a 
moment with his head cocked on one 
side. Then quickly stepping up to it, 
he stood on one leg, turned his body 
up edgewise, and squeezed through. 
Perhaps as good an example as I can 
give of Wrensie's fearlessness is to de- 
scribe his behavior one day when I had 
some work to do on the outside of a 
window. I stood on a staging just in 
front of the window, and was engaged 
in driving nails in the window casing. 
This hammering made a great noise, 
shaking the loose sash sharply. Wren- 
sie was busily engaged catching flies on 
the inside of the window, standing on 
the top of the lower sash; that is, at the 
middle of the window. All my motions, 
all the noise and the jar failed to 
frighten him away, although at times 
he looked at me pretty sharply. 
While so courageous in most ways, 
still Wrensie had his ideas of caution. 
Upon my return to the house after a 
short absence he would usually leave 
the room abruptly, either going out of 
doors or up into the attic. Even if I 
came in very quietly, taking precau- 
tions not to disturb him, the result was 
the same. This conduct always seemed 
to me a curious fact, and an inconsis- 
tency which I could not explain. 
Clever and interesting as he was, 
Wrensie had his shortcomings. His dis- 
position was not that of the typical 
bird: "Sweetness and light" were not 
his. In his spirit was none of the ex- 
uberent joy of the great songsters, nor 
any of the bonhommie of happy-go- 
lucky sparrows. During the whole 
term of our acquaintance not a sound 
left his throat! In complete silence 
did he pursue his vocation. A perfect 
helpmate, but a faulty companion. A 
very practical sort of bird he was, full 
of activity, but without vivacity. Can 
it be that the spirit of our industrial age 
is so pervasive that even the birds are 
unable to escape its influence? It 
would seem that evolution has produced 
the utilitarian and "strictly business" 
type of character among them. 
One day there was a noisy flutter of 
wings at the door, and the harsh cry of 
the butcher-bird was heard. On step- 
ping out I saw feathers floating in the 
air. I concluded that I would see no 
more of my little companion and helper. 
The blue-bottle fly was avenged. 
THE SQUIR REL'S USE OF HIS TAIL. 
BY JAMES NEWTON BASKETT, MEXICO, MO. 
OF COURSE every one who has 
had a pet squirrel has noticed 
what an important thing his 
tail seems to be to him. When 
he makes his toilet he usually ends by 
bringing the hairy brush around and 
apparently wiping his face with it, as 
though it were his towel. But I sus- 
pect that he is as much concerned, even 
here, about the care of his tail as about 
the cleanliness of his features, for 
Bunny's beauty, like that of some, 
others, lies as much in his train as in 
his countenance. One use, therefore, 
of the squirrel's tail is to make him 
look pretty. I think, at least, no one 
can see him put it into such graceful 
curves along with his delightful pos- 
tures without feeling that he is posing 
for esthetic effect. 
Still, a little study of his ways may 
make us think that there is a more prac- 
tical purpose even in this feature of his 
tail's use. We had a pet squirrel in the 
house recently — one of the western 
fox species or variety. He had be- 
come quite tame in his cage before he 
was released in my study. At inter- 
vals I had him brought in, and we 
usually romped together at least once 
a day. 
At first everything was so new and 
strange to him that he was very shy 
and must go about investigating. I 
noticed that, as he approached any- 
thing which he feared might prove 
dangerous, he always projected his tail 
over his back far forward — sometimes 
feeling the object with the extreme 
hairs before touching it with his nose. 
He annoyed me greatly by tearing the 
wall paper from a certain angle. One 
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