New Hampshire Statesman

THE GRAY SQUIRREL. The summer nest is built in some tall tree, at the junction of several limbs with the trunk. It is composed of sticks and leaves, and is lined with grass and ferns. In this the young are reared, and live with the female till they are old enough to shift for themselves. At the approach of winter, some hollow in a tree is selected, sometimes the abandoned nest of a wood-pecker, in which a warm nest is built, composed of grass and soft leaves. This is the winter home of usually the whole family. In early spring the young are driven off by the old ones, who soon build the summer nest, in which to rear another family. The young, after being driven off, soon pair, and in their turn become heads of families.

The habits of this animal are very interesting. You may be walking through the woods, and shortly you hear what you at first think to be the barking of a small dog; on listening you discover your mistake; the abrupt notes qua qua, with chattering guttural additions, proceed from the tall tree a few rods from you; you cautiously steal on tiptoe to the foot of the tree, but do not see the animal, even after looking carefully on every side. You know the little fellow is there, for he could not possibly have got out of the tree unless you had seen him. Now, if you go close to the tree, and step quickly to the other side, you will see him whisk suddenly to the opposite side from you, where he is now closely hugging the tree, and perfectly motionless; your interest has now become awakened, you are curious to see more of him; very well, you must retire a few rods, and remain perfectly still. You had better take a comfortable seat, for he will not move while you are near the tree. Presently you see his head, with his bright lively eyes, slowly moving around to the side where you are; this is the first reconnoitering movement. If you remain perfectly still, he will soon take his position on a limb, where, jerking his tail and flaunting it in conscious security, he gives vent to his satisfaction at your removal in a series of chattering barks, which are answered, perhaps, by other squirrels that you had no thought were in the neighborhood; soon one of them, with a challenging bark or chatter, chases another, and shortly three or four of them are scampering about, running through the fallen leaves, and up and down the trees in high sport; presently one of them, in escaping from the others, comes suddenly near you; with a shrill whistle of astonishment he scampers up the nearest tree, and is soon as effectually concealed as all the others were the instant he gave the alarm. You may as well retire now, for you will see nothing more of them; as long as you remain near they will not budge a foot.