Little Mitchell: The Story of a Mountain Squirrel

by Margaret Warner Morley

The lady tasted one of the green acorns, but it was so bitter and puckery she made up a queer face over it. But she put some of the acorns in her pocket for Little Mitchell. Since the other squirrels liked them so much, she thought perhaps he would like them too; but when she gave them to him he only played with them, and did not even try to eat one.

It was about this time that Little Mitchell began to sit up. Such a funny, floppy sitting up as it was! He did not hold his back up straight, but got himself all into a queer little heap, and the best he could do was to keep from tumbling over. But no doubt he felt very proud of himself, and imagined he was a big grown-up squirrel.

He wasn’t, though, for he could not crack even an acorn; and he still drank milk, though he had learned to love sugar cookies. His lady would give him a little piece of one, and he liked it so much he almost choked himself to death trying to stuff it down his throat too fast.

You may know what a baby he was when I tell you how he ran into the fireplace.

The first time he tried it, there was no fire there, and he started to go up the chimney, and his lady caught him just in time and pulled him down all black and sooty.

The next time there was a fire; but that didn’t matter to Little Mitchell. He ran right into it, and burned the whiskers all off one side of his face, and the lady snatched him out just in time to prevent his poor little nose from getting burned too. He was so surprised that he didn’t even try to get out. You see, he was such a baby!

Of course he slept in his little box of cotton, and one cold night his lady was awakened in the middle of the night by a great commotion. She heard something scratching frantically somewhere, and Little Mitchell was screaming and crying like everything.

She jumped up and got a light, and there was Little Mitchell’s box wiggling about as though bewitched. He was inside, scratching and thumping about and crying with all his might. What could be the matter?

You remember it was a cold night, and the lady concluded the little fellow was cold, and so she took him out. The moment he got into her warm hand, he stopped crying; so, not knowing what else to do, she took him to bed with her, and he curled down at her side under her hand and went to sleep like a good little kitten.