this:

"Size, about half way between a mouse and a rat, five or six inches
long, with a tail perhaps five inches more, about as big around as a
man's thumb, bushy, but of even size the whole length, top of head
dark gray, yellowish circles about the shining black eyes; short,
erect ears; light gray underneath, with whitish legs; a narrow
black stripe down the middle of the back, then on either side, a
stripe of reddish gray; then a stripe of black, next a stripe of
yellow, then black again and after that, reddish fox color down to the
whitish under-parts."

At length the chipmunk makes a dash for the thicket ten feet away and
his "chip, chip," rings out excitedly as he reaches the friendly
shelter.

* * * * *

The chipmunk is not the only woods creature preparing for winter
during the hottest days of August. For more than a week the flying
squirrel has been making the small mossy cup acorns rain down on the
roof of the bungalow. He begins on them when they are scarcely acorns,
merely green cups with a dot at the top. But he knows. He bites them
in two, and deftly extracts the acorn, which is in the milky state,
scarcely as large as a pea. He does it in the darkness, but with
amazing rapidity. Speeding from twig to twig, from one cluster of
acorns to another, he cuts the cups in two and extracts the meat so
fast that the pieces rain down on the roof. When he is working at top
speed, he will probably average twenty acorns a minute. In the morning
the roof of the porch is covered with pieces of the husks.

For half an hour after sunset he keeps up this fast speed. Apparently
he is getting supper after his long sleep through the day. At the end
of half an hour he begins to work more leisurely. The pieces fall on
the roof every now and then. Possibly he is taking the sweetmeats to
his hole, high up in a tree. Through the night there is the
intermittent sound of his labor. Sometimes, towards morning, he drops
in for a visit,--literally drops in, by way of the chimney and the
open fireplace. He knows no fear. Going to the kitchen, he helps
himself to the doughnut left on the table for him. If it is a whole
one, he nibbles all around it. If only half a one he carries it away.
You may close the kitchen door and catch him with your bare hands. He
will neither squeal nor bite. But he makes a poor pet, because he
sleeps in the daytime and works in the darkness. He strongly dislikes
the light. I