The smallest one clasped his fore paws around her neck, and coaxed her to let them all go out to find more interesting things. It was stupid there in the dark nest, with nothing to watch except the patch of light across the opening above them.
The old squirrel knew that the little ones were not strong enough yet to leave the nest.
To be sure, they had grown and changed very much since the first days. Then they had been ugly little creatures, like tiny pug dogs, with big heads, no fur, and their eyes tight shut.
Now they were half as big as she was herself. Their eyes were like jewels, and their red fur was smooth as satin.
But their tails, with only fringes of hair along the sides, were not nearly so fluffy as the mother’s. Her tail was long and plumy. It curved so gracefully over her back that she seemed to be sitting in its shadow. One name of the squirrel is “shadow-tail.”
For a few weeks longer the four babies scrambled about the doorway and looked longingly out at the wonderful green tree-world. They did not dare to step out upon the slender branches, for fear of falling off.
It made them feel dizzy to look away down to the ground below. They did not know how to cling to the limbs with their feet while they balanced themselves with their tails.
When the young squirrels were almost strong enough to learn to run and climb in the tree, the mother began to build another home higher up the trunk. The old nest was growing too warm for comfort, as summer brought the long sunny hours.
The squirrel father was not there to help his mate.