The life story of a squirrel

by T. C. Bridges

The hollow in which my brother and sister and I were placed gave us complete shelter from below, but there was only just room for the three of us. Father and mother were forced to expose themselves. The fir was, as I have said before, a very large tree—quite seventy feet high—old, thick, and gnarled, and the boughs were of considerable thickness near to its very summit. Father no doubt understood that our bulky enemy would, if he had the pluck, be able to pursue us right up to our lofty perch, and was aware of our almost hopeless position.

Slowly, very slowly, our persecutor came upwards. The branches, once he was among them, were so close and thick that he evidently found it difficult to force his way between them. Every now and then he would stop and puff and blow; then the creaking of large boughs and the cracking of small twigs announced a fresh effort on his part.

At last he was only separated from our second nest by a very small interval. Yet he had not discovered it was empty. The others kept yelling out questions to him, but he made no reply, only forced his way through the tree, which, I am bound to say, was very thick indeed.

More scrambling. Then he caught sight of the nest and redoubled his efforts. But when he was nearly up to it he reached up his arm, and without the slightest fear that he might be bitten as his companion had been, thrust his huge hand into it. The result was a savage exclamation. Angrily he seized the empty nest, tore it out, and sent it flying down as he had done the other.

By this time the others were a little tired of waiting, and began to scatter out from the tree to try to spy us themselves. Common sense must have told them that we had only left the nest when we heard them, and could not be far, and that we could probably be seen somewhere in the surrounding boughs. A few moments’ suspense, and then the awful warning shout again told us we were discovered. The man was still in the tree, though some way below, and by pointing and gesticulations they directed him where to go to find us. So he came panting up again, the thinner branches swaying and rustling beneath his weight. After a very few moments his head appeared in the greenery below. He was of a different type from the others, taller, black-haired, and sallow-faced. It did not take him many seconds to see us, and he quickly pulled himself up towards us.

With his eyes fixed on mother, he came rapidly upwards. Mother crouched where she was on a small branch, very close to the extreme summit of the tree, watching our enemy’s every movement. By a lucky chance the main stem hid us three youngsters from his sight. I think that father and mother must have purposely placed themselves on the other side from us with the express object of drawing the boy’s attention away from their helpless babies.

When he drew near he paused, and pulling a red cotton handkerchief from his pocket, deliberately wrapped it round one hand. Then, getting a good grip with the other, he edged outwards and made a sudden rapid grasp at mother. My heart almost stopped as I saw the great hand extended. But quick as he was, no human can hope to rival the lightning action of a squirrel’s muscles, and before the grasping hand touched her the little lithe red body flew into the air as though driven by a spring, and, flashing downwards, landed fully twenty feet below, and disappeared into the thickest part of the tree.

With a violent exclamation the tormentor turned his attention to father, who was only a foot or two further away, and crouching on the extreme outer end of a bough. Evidently he intended to make sure of him, for he worked himself round so as to get between father and the tree, and managed it so well that he seemed to me to have cut off all chance of escape. I think he must have actually touched father’s tail, when the most unexpected thing happened. Instead of jumping outwards, which, as the bough tip projected a good way, would in all probability have ended in a fall to the ground, into the very hands of the three watchers below, father leaped straight towards the boy, landing actually on his shoulder. This startled him so much that he very nearly let go altogether, and if I had not been in such a panic I could have laughed at his fright. Then, before the boy could recover himself, another quick bound, and father was out on another branch, ten feet away, quite out of reach of his would-be captor.