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 absorbing the pastime of the sportsman who goes to the
woods in the still October morning in quest of him! 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 branch, and
see it sway or spring as the squirrel leaps from or to it; or else
you hear a disturbance in the dry leaves, and mark one running upon
the ground. He has probably seen the intruder, and, not liking his
stealthy movements, desires to avoid a nearer acquaintance. Now he
mounts a stump to see if the way is clear, then pauses a moment at
the foot of a tree to take his bearings, his tail, as he skims
along, undulating behind him, and adding to the easy grace and
dignity of his movements. Or else you are first advised of his
proximity by the dropping of a false nut, or the fragments of the
shucks rattling upon the leaves. Or, again, after contemplating you
awhile unobserved, and making up his mind that you are not
dangerous, he strikes an attitude on a branch, and commences to
quack and bark, with an accompanying movement of his tail. Late in
the afternoon, when the same stillness reigns, the same scenes are
repeated. There is a black variety, quite rare, but mating freely
with the gray, from which he seems to be distinguished only in
color.