" (What should one say
to a squirrel?)

He dashed behind his barricade and disappeared. But he did not "stay
put;" in two seconds he tried it again, and again his discouraging
reception drove him back. He grew wary, however, and pretty soon I began
to notice that every time he made his dash to the top he was a few
inches nearer the gate, which stretched like a bridge from the fence to
the locust-tree, and of course so much nearer me. At last, advancing
thus inch by inch, he came up close to the gate, so near I could have
put my hand on him,--that is, I could have put my hand on the place he
occupied, for he did not stay to be caressed; he flew across the gate,
sprang three or four feet into the tree, and was out of sight before I
could lift a finger. This passage having been successfully made, he felt
that he was safe, and could afford to be saucy. He began the usual
scold. Then I tossed a little stick up toward him, as a reminder that
human power is not limited by the length of an arm, and he subsided.

Once when he came up to the fence top, before his grand dash, I laughed
at him. Strange to say, this made him furious. He reviled me vehemently.
No doubt, if I had understood his language, I should have been covered
with confusion, for I confess that he could make a very good point
against me. What business had I, an interloper in his dominion, to
interfere with his rights, or to say whether he should dine off birds or
berries?

XXIII.

THE COMICAL CROW BABY.

Nothing in the world of feathers is so comical as a crow baby, with its
awkward bows and ungainly hops, its tottering steps on the fence and its
mincing, tight-boot sort of gait on the ground, its eager fluttering
when it has hopes of food, and its loud and unintermitting demand for
the same.

My window overlooked a long stretch of cattle pastures and meadows still
uncut, bounded on one side by woods, and in the middle of this valley
unvisited by man, the crows of the neighborhood established a training
school for their youngsters. A good glass let me in as unsuspected
audience, and I had views of many interesting family scenes, supposed by
the wary parents to be visible only to the cows stolidly feeding on the
hillside. In this way I had all the fun and none of the trouble of the
training business.

It is astonishing how completely the manner of the adult crow is lacking
in his young offspring, whose only external difference is the want of a
tai