They were careful to run along logs over a muddy spot. If one happened to get wet he dried himself with his fluffy tail.
When they were tired of eating seeds and twigs they hunted for grubs. Clinging to the bark of a dead tree, they listened till they heard something gnawing beneath the surface. Then, tearing off the bark in ragged pieces, they pounced upon the flat whitish grub beneath and ate him up.
But the best time of all came in the autumn when nuts were ripe. Then what fun the little squirrels had! Early every morning out popped the little heads from the hollow stumps and logs. The big round eyes twinkled eagerly in every direction. Then, whisk! they were out, with a bark and a squeak!
Scampering to the top of a tree, each one took a flying leap to the next tree. Up and down they followed the squirrel-paths through the woods till they reached the grove, where the nuts were ripening.
It was a busy place, with little wings fluttering and little feet pattering, and yellow leaves drifting down in the sunshine. All the squirrels scurried to and fro, picking one nut here, and another there.
They sat on the branches, with their bushy tails curving over their backs, and held the nuts in their fore paws to nibble. The smallest baby could open the hardest walnut and clean it out in less than a minute.
All the while the blue jays and the thrifty chipmunks were gathering nuts and corn, and hiding their stores for the winter. That seemed so interesting that the squirrels gathered some, too.
Autumn passed away, and the days grew colder. In the woods the leaves were all fallen and the branches were stripped bare of nuts.
Every morning when the squirrels poked out their heads the air nipped their noses. Frost sparkled on the dead grass. The chipmunks had crept into their holes for the winter, and most of the birds had flown away south.