So many kinds of animals have been tamed at times that I cannot speak of them all. But I must not forget our familiar little friend, the squirrel, one of the prettiest and liveliest of tree-dwellers. To see him seated, with bushy tail curled up over his back, and gnawing away at a nut held between his fore-paws, is to see one of nature's most charming sights. And he is a tameable little creature, easy to keep and to feed, and very pleasing in his ways.
There are many kinds of squirrels, but all of them may be tamed. They need a cage of good size, and a usual feature of the cage is a revolving wheel or cylinder of zinc wire, a sort of tread-mill in which the active little fellow may take all the exercise he wants, making it spin round at a great speed. He needs a snug little ante-room, to which he may retire when tired of his wheel. Any kind of nut will be welcome as food, and even a stale crust of bread or a bit of boiled potato, all of which he will gnaw in his funny way.
A Friendly Gray Squirrel
Many stories of tame squirrels could be told. Here is one which we owe to a Captain Brown. I give it both for its neatness and its odd ending.
It is of a tame squirrel that used to run up its master's leg and pop into his pocket whenever it saw him getting ready to go out. As he went through the streets it would keep in his pocket, sticking its head out in a saucy way to took at people passing. As soon as the outskirts of the town were reached and trees and bushes became common, out of the pocket it would pop, down the leg it would scramble, and up the trees it would climb, nibbling away at the bark and leaves. If its master started on, down it would come and climb back to his pocket. If a cart or carriage came by it would hide till they had passed, for it was timid with any one but its master.
It was not a good friend with the house dog and this seems to have been bunny's fault, for he had a fashion of his own of teasing the dog. If it lay down and went off into a snooze, down would come the squirrel, scamper over its body, and dart off to its cage again before the dog had time to growl or snap.
This squirrel—or it may have been another squirrel which had the same fancy of hiding in its master's pocket—had one night an adventure in which it served its master as well as any watch-dog could have done. The gentleman who kept it used, when he came home at night, to hang his coat behind one of the downstairs doors. This made a neat sleeping place for the squirrel, who would climb up to the pocket, taking some tow with him for bedding.
One night, after the family and the squirrel alike had gone to bed, a burglar made his way into the house and began to peer around for plunder. Seeing the coat hanging on the door, he began with that, putting his hand into the pocket. In an instant he drew it out again with a cry of pain. He had got a sudden bite from the squirrel's sharp teeth. At the noise the man of the house sprang up, seized a poker and ran down stairs. He was in time to capture the burglar, who was just climbing out of the window.