Little Mitchell: The Story of a Mountain Squirrel

by Margaret Warner Morley

After dinner, when they were all together in the sitting-room, one of the young men—who was a Harvard student, and knew more about many other things than he did about squirrels—said Little Mitchell did not really know the lady, but would just as soon go to anybody else if he were left alone.

So all the family—eight or nine, counting the visitors—formed a circle, and the lady set Little Mitchell down in the middle, and then quickly stepped back behind him to a new place in the circle.

Little Mitchell’s bushy tail jerked nervously for a minute, and his bright eyes looked wildly from one strange face to another; then he gave a leap and landed at his lady’s feet, and in another second was up on her shoulder.

After that, no one denied that he knew his lady, and liked her best of all.

He had to take an airing once in a while, and the way he went was to ride in his own private carriage,—which was nothing less than the inside of his lady’s jacket. She would button it all but the two top buttons, and tuck him in, and away they would go for a walk or a romp together.

Little Mitchell thought this great fun, and usually gave no trouble. Sometimes they walked along the street, when Little Mitchell would pop his head out and look about, but if anybody came along he would pop it back again.

Sometimes they went to the Public Garden; and here he had many adventures. One day his lady thought she would let him climb a tree. So she chose a little one, put him on one of the lower limbs, and then stepped back. Little Mitchell looked about, but did not climb; he took two or three steps, then I suppose he decided it was an awful thing to be left there alone on a wild little tree in a wild park that stood in a wild world that he knew nothing about; so he gave one tremendous jump and landed on his lady’s shoulder, and scurried down into his safe hiding-place under her jacket, and peeped out at the terrible tree and the strange world he was so afraid of.

Then she put him on the grass, and went on; but Little Mitchell went on too, and in less time than it takes to tell he had caught her and come flying up again to his safe place in her jacket.

Sometimes he would come out and sit in her hand; but it seemed a very dangerous world to a squirrel who had never been out of doors,—and so it was, for did not a little girl come up to look at him one day and suddenly grab him in both hands? But how quick she let go! He squealed his loudest, and squirmed like an eel, and no doubt would have bitten her, only she was so frightened that she dropped him on the grass. The lady quickly stooped down with her hand out, and he sprang upon it and ran up her arm and hid in her jacket. No little girls for him!