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While at first he seemed dead, the warmth of our hands soon revived him and
he squirmed. When we arrived home, Father identified him. "Why, it's a little
mountain squirrel, and will make a fine pet if you give it good care." He
added, "I think it fell from a hole in a log being hauled for posts. Keep
it warm, and see if you can feed it."
That evening, with Mother's help, we fed the squirrel diluted, warm milk
from a tiny doll's spoon. We fed it often. It slept in a basket in the warm
oven of the big kitchen range.
In a few days the little squirrel began to grow, and soon he became too
lively for the basket. "I think I will name him Frisky", said my Father,
"he is such a frisky little animal." We were delighted with that name, and
the next few months Frisky lived up to it. Father made a cage, in one end
of which was a smaller compartment with a round hole just large enough for
Frisky to enter. This box Father filled with cotton. The next morning we
heard Father exclaim, "Now see what that little rascal did!" We all came
to see. Frisky not only had come out of the box, but the cotton as well.
It was strewn all over the cage.
"Now what will he do tonight?" we wondered. When night came, back into the
box went the little squirrel, and the cotton too. When we peered into the
box, all that we could see was one little eye. The next morning there was
a repeat performance. The cotton was scattered about the cage. We decided
that Frisky was a very clean little squirrel -- airing his bedding every day.
Frisky was growing very fast now. The gray fur on his back was becoming sleek
and silky, and had brown tones. With his now bushy tail arched over his back,
he was a very beautiful creature. It was fun finding new things for him to
eat. We never tired of watching him cup his food in his little front feet.
His favorite food was peanuts, with strawberries next. He made little
grunting sounds when pleased or displeased. His curiosity was boundless.
Father told us that Frisky needed more space for his activities. So one day
I decided to put him out on the lawn for awhile. The smell of the green
grass and the fresh air stirred him to a frenzy. He tore up and down the
lawn, and each run he went a bit farther. Fearing Frisky might run away, I
dashed and picked him up. For the first time since we found him, he bit me
-- hard. He was put back into his cage, and for several days I nursed a very
sore thumb and a grudge against him.
We decided to let Frisky have the run of a big, empty, one-room building in
our yard, where school had been held. We played with him there, and at night
he was returned to his cage. One day we took a trip, and were late getting
home. It was dark when we went to the window of the building and called
Frisky. When he didn't come, we thought he had escaped. Then we heard a
rustle, and Frisky came crawling out of the stove, which was filled with
paper. He blinked, and looked like a sleepy child.
Then later one day, he really did chew his way to freedom. What became of
him we never knew, but we hoped that he had found his way back to his kind.
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Utah Nature Study Society NATURE NEWS/NOTES November 1965 |
Adapted for The INTERNET by Sandra Bray |
