The life story of a squirrel

by T. C. Bridges

I was sinking lower and lower in the water; my strokes were becoming more feeble every moment, and it was only a question of a few minutes before I must have sunk for good, when I suddenly caught sight of a long narrow plank, evidently torn from some paling by the flood, sweeping down, end on, beside me. With a last despairing effort I struck out for it, and just before it had passed quite out of my reach, succeeded in scrambling upon one end of it. It dipped beneath my water-logged weight, and the current almost snatched me away. But, clinging with all my claws, I managed to crawl along to its centre, and found to my joy that it would support me.

But, even so, my position was extremely perilous. The way in which the banks flew by showed how rapid was the rush of the flooded river. Suppose the plank caught against any obstacle, it must at once roll over and plunge me again into the water. Happily, however, this did not happen, and though time and again it checked and quivered, I managed to retain my hold, and so was swept along almost as fast as a man could run.

I passed the large house down the valley, and beyond it the river broadened, but still ran with almost unabated speed. Soon I had cleared the wood, and was driving along between pastures which sloped steeply upwards from bluff-like banks. Once I saw a drowned sheep caught in the brambles under a curve, and shuddered to think how soon the same fate might befall me. Field after field flew by, and once more the river plunged into the shadow of thick trees, and then a new and terrifying sound came to my ears. It was the deep, sullen roar of falling water.

Sweeping round a wide curve, I became aware of a long weir in front penning the brimming river which foamed along its top, while through the open sluice-gates the main stream plunged in a mass of yellow foam. Now, indeed, I gave myself up for lost, for I saw that I could not hope to survive the passage down that fierce fall. On like an arrow sped the plank, straight for the centre of the opening, and all hope that it might drift against the weir was gone, when, suddenly, with a jar that almost flung me from my insecure perch, the front end of the plank struck something hidden below the muddy water, probably a sunken stake, and instantly was swung side on, jamming across the very mouth of the gates. Gathering all my few remaining energies, I made a feeble leap, and more by good luck than good management reached the top of the weir. Even then my troubles were not over, for the weir was old and broken, and in places the flood was actually foaming over its top. But after waiting a little to recover my strength, I succeeded in jumping these gaps, and at last struggled safely ashore once more.

I was soaked as I had never been in my life before, chilled to the bone, so exhausted that I could hardly move, and yet intensely grateful to be once more on firm ground. Luckily for me, the sun was still shining, and the air mild and warm for the time of year; so I crawled up into a small tree, and lying out on a branch on the sunny side, waited for my dripping fur to dry a little.

My position was far from an enviable one. Here I was, in a strange wood, far away from our winter-quarters, and separated from Walnut, without food, friends, or a home. However, Walnut was luckily well able to look after himself, and there was no doubt about finding food of some sort, so I consoled myself with the thought that I would start as soon as possible and make my way back to the river wood.

While I sat there sunning myself I was surprised and pleased to hear a familiar gnawing sound in a neighbouring beech-tree, and suddenly there came into view another squirrel, a handsome fellow with an uncommonly light coat. I called to him, and he came across in a most friendly way.

He remarked on my dripping coat civilly, and I told him the story of my misfortunes.

‘Ugh!’ he shuddered, with a glance at the foaming river, ‘I wouldn’t take a swim in that—not for a coppice full of cob-nuts!’

We chatted for a while, and my new friend was good enough to show me a nice lot of fir-cones, on which I made a much-needed meal. Then I told him that I meant to go back up-stream to the river wood, and I suppose I must have dilated on its attractiveness, for suddenly he proposed accompanying me.