m. The nest
was composed of cotton and wool which they filched from a bed in one of
the chambers, and it was always a mystery how they got into the room to
obtain it. There seemed to be no other avenue but the chimney flue.

Red and gray squirrels are more or less active all winter, though very
shy, and, I am inclined to think, partially nocturnal in their habits.
Here a gray one has just passed,--came down that tree and went up this;
there he dug for a beechnut, and left the burr on the snow. How did he
know where to dig? During an unusually severe winter I have known him to
make long journeys to a barn, in a remote field, where wheat was stored.
How did he know there was wheat there? In attempting to return, the
adventurous creature was frequently run down and caught in the deep
snow.

His home is in the trunk of some old birch or maple, with an entrance
far up amid the branches. In the spring he builds himself a summer-house
of small leafy twigs in the top of a neighboring beech, where the young
are reared and much of the time passed. But the safer retreat in the
maple is not abandoned, and both old and young resort thither in the
fall, or when danger threatens. Whether this temporary residence amid
the branches is for elegance or pleasure, or for sanitary reasons or
domestic convenience, the naturalist has forgotten to mention.

The elegant creature, so cleanly in its habits, so graceful in its
carriage, so nimble and daring in its movements, excites feelings of
admiration akin to those awakened by the birds and the fairer forms of
nature. His passage through the trees is almost a flight. Indeed, the
flying squirrel has little or no advantage over him, and in speed and
nimbleness cannot compare with him at all. If he miss his footing and
fall, he is sure to catch on the next branch; if the connection be
broken, he leaps recklessly for the nearest spray or limb, and secures
his hold, even if it be by the aid of his teeth.

His career of frolic and festivity begins in the fall, after the birds
have left us and the holiday spirit of nature has commenced to subside.
How much his presence adds to the pleasure of a saunter in the still
October woods. You step lightly across the threshold of the forest, and
sit down upon the first log or rock to await the signals. It is so still
that the ear suddenly seems to have acquired new powers, and there is no
movement to confuse the eye. Presently you hear the rustling of a
b