The beauty and gracefulness of the ground-squirrels render them interesting pets, but as they never become quite tame, are timid and addicted to biting, and gnaw everything in the cage they are not very desirable to keep. Their care presents no difficulties, and they thrive well on the simplest diet of grain and fruit.
Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn, N. Y., is suffering for the second time in its history from a too great increase in its colony of chipmunks. Eighteen years ago they became such a nuisance that a trapper was employed, and 28,000 small striped pelts were the results of his first year's work.
This year it was noticed that an unusual number were about, even in the early spring, when the chipmunks first appear after a winter's sleep. Now it is estimated that there are at least 20,000 chipmunks in the cemetery, and a great deal of damage has been done. Through their burrowing habits they have undermined the gravestones, and even in many cases caused graves to sink in, when rainwater has helped to hollow out their burrows.
The chief enemies of the chipmunks are the florists, for the animals nip growing plants at the roots to reach the sap. One Brooklyn florist says that since Decoration Day he has had to put in 250 new plants to keep up an original plat of 150. Florists with contracts to keep graves in condition have entered strong protests, but outside florists, who work by the piece, have been making money.
The eight special policemen on the grounds have been furnished with poisoned nuts to scatter about. No diminution has yet appeared in the chipmunk army, as they reproduce three or four times a year and increase fourfold in a season if not checked. But if poison fails another trapper may be called in.
Our Animal Friends says that some children were feeding chickens with some stale bread one day, and two or three chipmunks appeared. They wanted the bread, too, and every time the children threw a bit down, both chickens and chipmunks would make a rush for it; and nearly always the chipmunks got it. One of them was particularly smart; he gathered all his pieces in a little pile between two stones, and he seemed to keep one eye on them and the other on the lookout for fresh pieces all the time. At last one of the chickens saw the pile and made a run for it, but its owner got there first, and he just sat right down on the top of the heap and chattered. The chicken kept on coming nearer and looking rather as if he would fight for it, so Mr. Chipmunk sat straight up, twirled his tail, and just seemed to shake with anger. Then another came along to help him, and the two tucked all the pieces into their pockets and off they darted, leaving the poor chicken looking awfully disappointed.
TED'S WEATHER PROPHET.
GRANVILLE OSBORNE.
Flittin' along from tree to tree,