OF the few wild animals that run about our woods, none have so many foreign relations as our lovely little friend, the Squirrel. There are several varieties in other countries: in England we have but one. On the whole, they are much alike, both in their description and their funny little ways, but in some details they differ. Some delight to skip about the highest branches of lofty trees, and are seldom seen anywhere else; some, not true Squirrels, though they are generally so called, live chiefly underground, and are called ground or burrowing Squirrels; and most curious of all—some little animals, in many ways, very like Squirrels, have a peculiar skin or membrane growing from their sides, which, when the little creatures leap, are extended and spread out by their legs and feet, and enables them to float on the air almost as swallows, or gulls do, when they glide along without flapping their wings. Some of these animals are larger than a full-grown wild rabbit, and are called flying foxes, and other small ones, about four inches long, flying squirrels. These almost winged animals, have been known to take leaps quite a hundred yards in length, of course in a slightly downward direction; but on the level they are able to jump half that distance.
These are not found in England at all, nor are they common in any part of the world. As you will be more interested in the pretty little fellow so often seen in our own woods, I will describe to you some of the ways of the British Squirrel.
It is quite small; not so large in body as a common house rat, but its tail when spread out, is so large and full, that it makes quite a shade from the heat of the sun, and a screen from cold breezes, for it is larger than its whole body, and gives the Squirrel an air of great importance, as it sits in its favorite attitude, cleverly holding a nut with its paws, while rapidly gnawing a hole in the shell. But that hole is so small you would wonder how the kernel could ever be got through it; and you would be likely to say, "What clever fingers the Squirrel must have, to enable him to extract kernels from their tiny shells, and damage the nuts so little." Well, we seldom call the terminations of an animal's four legs "fingers," but I think we have a right to do so in this case, for the Squirrel has on its fore paws or hands a set of very nimble digits or fingers, with the thumbs set in opposition to the fingers, very much as our thumbs are, and the end of each is furnished with a fine strong claw, by means of which it not only extracts kernels from nuts, but clings to the bark of trees so securely, and runs and jumps about the trees, with no more fear of falling, and with little less speed than a bird would fly. Everything about these little creatures suggests quickness—the sharp pointed ears, tipped with tufts of hair, the bright eyes that seem to take notice of every leaf that stirs, and his graceful limbs are so quick that if you succeed in surprising him, he would place several trees between himself and you before you were sure that you had seen it.
In this, as in all that God has made, we can see evidence of the handiwork of a wise, and good Creator. The Squirrel is exceedingly timid, always prefers running away to fighting, and God has so made him that no animal can get away faster than he. Other animals have different ways, and means of self-protection, either strong fighting qualities, natural shields, or good power of getting away, while some combine both. You will find it interesting and not at all difficult, to note the differences between various animals in this particular.
The Squirrel has a nice soft fur, of a reddish brown color on the back and sides, and white underneath. He makes very comfortable quarters in the forks of large branches, and if there be a hollow place caused by decay, so much the better.
It makes a good large nest of hay, dry leaves, twigs and moss, binding them together very cleverly, leaving only a tiny hole at the top, and this it roofs over.
The Squirrel is a provident little creature. He knows very well that the nuts which he loves so much, will be all gone long before the coming winter is over; and so either in holes in the same tree in which he builds his nest or near to it in the ground, he lays by a large stock of nuts for his winter's supply.
Sometimes he is killed for the sake of his comfortable home by the Martin, who cannot build for itself; but this is not often; and in parts of Europe where wild boars roam through the forests, large colonies of Squirrels are robbed of these winter stores by the hungry pigs, who come rooting around every tree whose hollow base is likely to contain the Squirrels' harvest. In some countries in Europe, Squirrels travel from one country to another, thousands at a time in large companies, and sometimes meet with a lake, or a river that bars their way. They are not stopped, however, but strange to say, all together leave the shore, and return into the forest, and each gets a large piece of bark, floats it, gets on it, and sails away, the bushy tail finding a new occupation, that of propelling the frail little vessel, by means of the wind. Unfortunately for the Squirrels, the lakes and rivers, though calm near shore, are often rough in the middle, or a wind springs up, and the poor little ships are all upset, and the passengers drowned. Some naturalists deny that Squirrels do take to the nautical profession in this way, but most agree in supporting the statement that they do.