The lovely fawn colour of their breasts, melting into lavender on their heads, the blue and black bars on their necks, their ruby eyes, and dainty rose-coloured feet were a joy to behold—a feast of exquisite colouring.
They were very shy, and, on their first arrival, the sight or sound of a human being made them instantly take fright; but as time went on they became accustomed to me, and would, as long as I kept still, approach quite close to my chair.
Though I searched the wood many times I never could find their nest. It was well hidden.
And now autumn is approaching, with its splendour of amber and gold, of crimson and brown. There is great activity in the squirrel world. Young and old are busy storing and burying nuts.
Early in the dewy mornings they hie themselves to the hazel coppices, to the lordly beeches, and later they will strip the walnuts. Active little creatures, intent upon this their supreme instinct, I have known a pair entirely clear away the beech-mast under the weeping tree on our lawn on a September morning before breakfast—beech-mast which thickly covered the ground the night before.
Fritz and Laurence Housman, too, are now disporting the full glory of their autumn tails. Mrs. Fritz and Mrs. Laurence are teaching the little Fritzes and the little Laurences where and how to hide the winter food. Soon they will be stripping the fibre from the old conifer in the shrubbery, and mending up their snug little homes in the wood, ready for the short days and the long cold nights.
Good-bye, gay and care-free little friends! Good-bye! My way lies south, by the sea, where no squirrels come.