hroughout all seasons. Strange that I have not yet found a
nest full of young ones. The Douglas is nearly allied to the red
squirrel of the Atlantic slope, and may have been distributed to this
side of the continent by way of the great unbroken forests of the north.

The California gray is one of the most beautiful, and, next to the
Douglas, the most interesting of our hairy neighbors. Compared with the
Douglas he is twice as large, but far less lively and influential as a
worker in the woods and he manages to make his way through leaves and
branches with less stir than his small brother. I have never heard him
bark at anything except our dogs. When in search of food he glides
silently from branch to branch, examining last year's cones, to see
whether some few seeds may not be left between the scales, or gleans
fallen ones among the leaves on the ground, since none of the present
season's crop is yet available. His tail floats now behind him, now
above him, level or gracefully curled like a wisp of cirrus cloud,
every hair in its place, clean and shining and radiant as thistle-down
in spite of rough, gummy work. His whole body seems about as
unsubstantial as his tail. The little Douglas is fiery, peppery, full of
brag and fight and show, with movements so quick and keen they almost
sting the onlooker, and the harlequin gyrating show he makes of himself
turns one giddy to see. The gray is shy, and oftentimes stealthy in his
movements, as if half expecting an enemy in every tree and bush, and
back of every log, wishing only to be let alone apparently, and
manifesting no desire to be seen or admired or feared. The Indians hunt
this species for food, a good cause for caution, not to mention other
enemies--hawks, snakes, wild cats. In woods where food is abundant they
wear paths through sheltering thickets and over prostrate trees to some
favorite pool where in hot and dry weather they drink at nearly the same
hour every day. These pools are said to be narrowly watched, especially
by the boys, who lie in ambush with bow and arrow, and kill without
noise. But, in spite of enemies, squirrels are happy fellows, forest
favorites, types of tireless life. Of all Nature's wild beasts, they
seem to me the wildest. May we come to know each other better.

The chaparral-covered hill-slope to the south of the camp, besides
furnishing nesting-places for countless merry birds, is the home and
hiding-place of the curious wood rat (_Neotoma