The life story of a squirrel

by T. C. Bridges

I was aroused from a sort of stupor between sleep and exhaustion by being picked out of my snug retreat and held up for inspection before a third person, a sweet-faced lady, whom I afterwards came to know well and love as the mother of my dear master, Jack Fortescue, and his brother Harry.

She looked at me pitifully when her son had quickly explained the events of the morning. Her fingers were long and slim and cool, and, poor limp little rag that I was, I never offered the slightest resistance to her gentle grasp. She took me straight through a side door into a long, low, shady building with wood-lined walls, and in a minute or two I was placed in a nest of soft hay in a good-sized box covered in front with close wire-netting. Too worn out to trouble my head about the amazing and perplexing change in my circumstances, I simply curled up with my tail over my nose and went sound asleep.

It was Jack who woke me. I must have been asleep for a long time, for now the sun was pouring in through the western windows. The first thing I realized was that I was desperately hungry, and that the little saucer which the boy had pushed gently into the cage had a most appetizing odour. But my sleep had given me fresh life and strength, and quiet as his movements were, I remember that I was desperately frightened, and cowered down, shivering, burrowing close in the hay.

Jack seemed to understand perfectly, for he closed the door again very softly and moved away. Presently the silence restored my confidence a little, and I ventured to peep out. The saucer was quite close to my nose, and, hunger overpowering my fright, I crawled up and tasted the mixture. It was bread and milk, soft and well cooked. I finished it very rapidly, and then, feeling much refreshed, went to sleep for a second time.

Once again before dark Jack came and fed me, and this time brought me a couple of ready cracked nuts, as well as the bread and milk.

Well fed and cared for as I was, I shall never forget the misery of that first night. I don’t suppose that at that very early age I actually remembered much of what had happened during the past eventful day. What I did feel was a sort of horror of loneliness. Instead of the whole five of us snuggling warmly together in our well-lined drey, I was here in this box, which was many times larger than our nest, absolutely alone. Every time I went to sleep I would wake up again with a start, vaguely feeling round for my mother and the rest, and shivering miserably in my unaccustomed solitude.

At last morning came, and it was hardly broad daylight before Jack arrived in his nightshirt and carried me off, cage and all, to his bedroom, where he put me on the window-ledge in the sun and offered me nuts. At first I was much alarmed; but he was so gentle that I gradually got over my terror, and sat up and nibbled the nuts fairly happily.

I will pass over the next few days. My new master fed me assiduously, and very soon I lost all fear of him, and the minute I saw him would make for the door of my comfortable little prison, and wait eagerly for the dainties which were sure to be forthcoming. Every morning he changed my bed and gave me fresh hay, which makes far the best bedding for any of our tribe. During the day my cage was brought down into the bowling-alley, where several other pets were kept, and at night Jack took me up to his room, so that I might not be frightened by servants dusting in the morning.

At last there came a morning when Jack’s hand, instead of offering me the usual nut, gently grasped me. Frightened, I turned at once and bit him sharply. I don’t suppose my small teeth did much damage, for he only laughed, and, lifting me right out of the cage, placed me on his bed. The white counterpane was so very different from anything which I had ever felt under my claws before, that at first I was too much surprised to move, and remained perfectly still. Presently, however, Jack popped a nut down in front of me. That, at any rate, I understood, so I sat up on my hind-quarters, cracked it, and, first carefully removing the brown skin from the kernel, made short work of the dainty.