The newcomer was very red, as Rufina had been when she first came in October. I was a little surprised at this, for it was now winter—January 1914—and Rufina’s coat had long since taken on a lovely pearly gray which, with the undergrowth of red and an autumn tail, gave her quite a distinguished air.
Ruby was a dear little kittenish creature, very fond of play. She was dreadfully afraid of me at first, and much too suspicious to venture inside my room. The sight of me at the window sent her flying into the safe shelter of the sleeping-box, and once there she would, like all the others of her sex, swear at Peter, and dig her little claws into his nose if he tried to get in too. After a week or so, however, he was allowed to get in at the back entrance, and though there were always some expostulations, he was not turned out.
She would come into the room when I was not there, and eat her fill of nuts on the inverted lid of the clothes-basket. The weather was quite mild just then, and she seemed to like her quarters better than any of the former new arrivals had done.
She had a dear little face, a lovely red coat, and a beautiful plumy tail. She kept herself exquisitely clean, and spent a good deal of time over her toilet. Naturally, it being the depth of winter, she spent a great many hours asleep.
It is evident that caged squirrels sleep a great deal more, especially in winter, than when they are at large in the woods. Fritz was constantly to be seen, at least twice a day for a couple of hours at a time, bounding about the trees. And I used to notice the wild ones, the year before, very active even in the snow. A biting east wind would keep them snug in their nests, or a cold pitiless rain continuing all day. Otherwise they were nearly as active in winter as in summer, with this great difference, that whereas in summer 4 a.m. would find them at my window, their morning toilet finished and their appetites keen, in winter they did not appear at all till between eight and nine o’clock, and by 3 p.m. they had curled themselves up for the night. In the summer, I have heard them cracking nuts at 8 p.m. I think they all sleep from about 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., winter or summer.
I often came upon Fritz having forty winks, on a comfortable branch sheltered from the wind, in the daytime. Squirrels’ claws are so strong and flexible, and cling so firmly, that there is no danger of their falling from any perch, awake or asleep.