The life story of a squirrel

by T. C. Bridges

As for me, life ran most pleasantly. I grew plump on the good food I was supplied with. My coat became long and sleek, and my tail, which had been a mere furry appendage like that of a little colt, grew into a glorious brush of richest red-brown, long enough and thick enough to cover me completely when I curled up to sleep. Jack was very proud of my looks, and used to groom me all over with a little brush—a process which I soon grew very fond of. We two came to understand one another most marvellously. I could always tell him what I wanted, whether it was food, or a game, or to be allowed to creep into his coat-pocket and go to sleep there.

One day he opened my cage, slipped me into his pocket, and walked off, and when he took me out again I was out of doors once more!

I cannot tell you how it affected me. You know, we wild creatures—born wild, I mean—never quite forget our rightful heritage of freedom, and here, for the first time for many weeks, I found myself out in the open.

Jack was seated on a wooden bench under a clump of evergreen shrubs in the midst of a great expanse of smooth-shaven lawn. It was August now, and the sun poured down hotter than ever it had been in those June days in the wood. Big bumble-bees droned lazily by; a robin was perched on the bare ground at the foot of an arbor vitæ, cocking a soft round eye at us; all the subtle, fascinating odours of summer were in my nostrils. I gave one spring from his knee on to the back of the bench, and sat there, head high, snuffing the sweet air, and quivering all over with excitement. Jack never moved, and for the moment he passed completely out of my remembrance. My brain was crammed to bursting with half-forgotten instincts and remembrances which crowded in upon me.

So I sat for perhaps half a minute; then a little breath of summer breeze swayed a bough above me, and on the impulse I sprang. Oh, the delight of feeling it yield and swing beneath me! I darted inwards to the trunk, and with one clattering dash was up at its slender summit twenty feet above the turf gazing round in wild delight. When the first ecstasy had worn off, I set myself to explore, and, clambering down a little, jumped into the next tree. So for many minutes I exercised my new-found powers, taking longer and longer leaps, and enjoying myself to the top of my bent.

But the clump of shrubs was small, and soon I had exhausted its resources in the way of jumps. I looked around, and a little way off was a giant elm. Ah! that would give more scope; and with my head full of its possibilities, I turned and came down head foremost. Then, and not till then, did my eyes fall upon my master, who sat where I had left him, still as ever. He looked at me, but I would not heed, and dashed off across the lawn.

‘Hulloa, Jack! what price Nipper?’ came Harry’s voice from a distance. ‘You’ll never see him again.’

But the other only said, ‘You wait!’ and still sat stubbornly in his place.

With a rattle of claws on rough bark I was up the elm like a flash, and, half crazy with joy, went leaping and corkscrewing round and round, sending a couple of tree-creepers off in a terrible fright. I think they must have taken me for a cat. I played for a long time, and still Jack sat on the bench. He seemed to be deep in a book, and after a time I got quite cross at his apparent lack of interest in my proceedings. It was getting late, and the trees threw long, dark shadows across the lawn. The breeze had died down, and, except for the chirping of sparrows in the ivy and the low whistle of some starlings in the distance, all was very still. A sense of loneliness began to oppress me, and at last I came creeping down, and, reaching the lower branch, once more looked across towards my master.