assed under my bended arm, and jumped on my paper. And one warm
afternoon, while an old friend of mine was reading out in the shade of
his cabin, one of his Douglas neighbors jumped from the gable upon his
head, and then with admirable assurance ran down over his shoulder and
on to the book he held in his hand.

Our Douglas enjoys a large social circle; for, besides his numerous
relatives, _Sciurus fossor, Tamias quadrivitatus, T. Townsendii,
Spermophilus Beccheyi, S. Douglasii_, he maintains intimate relations
with the nut-eating birds, particularly the Clark Crow (_Picicorvus
columbianus_) and the numerous woodpeckers and jays. The two
spermophiles are astonishingly abundant in the lowlands and lower
foot-hills, but more and more sparingly distributed up through the
Douglas domains,--seldom venturing higher than six or seven thousand
feet above the level of the sea. The gray sciurus ranges but little
higher than this. The little striped tamias alone is associated with him
everywhere. In the lower and middle zones, where they all meet, they are
tolerably harmonious--a happy family, though very amusing skirmishes may
occasionally be witnessed. Wherever the ancient glaciers have spread
forest soil there you find our wee hero, most abundant where depth of
soil and genial climate have given rise to a corresponding luxuriance in
the trees, but following every kind of growth up the curving moraines to
the highest glacial fountains.

Though I cannot of course expect all my readers to sympathize fully in
my admiration of this little animal, few, I hope, will think this sketch
of his life too long. I cannot begin to tell here how much he has
cheered my lonely wanderings during all the years I have been pursuing
my studies in these glorious wilds; or how much unmistakable humanity I
have found in him. Take this for example: One calm, creamy Indian summer
morning, when the nuts were ripe, I was camped in the upper pine-woods
of the south fork of the San Joaquin, where the squirrels seemed to be
about as plentiful as the ripe burs. They were taking an early breakfast
before going to their regular harvest-work. While I was busy with my own
breakfast I heard the thudding fall of two or three heavy cones from a
Yellow Pine near me. I stole noiselessly forward within about twenty
feet of the base of it to observe. In a few moments down came the
Douglas. The breakfast-burs he had cut off had rolled on the gently
sloping ground into a