Meeko screamed in terror and Bismarck fainted, but Kitchi-Kitchi made the jump safely with several inches to spare. After that, whenever she wanted to bring them to terms, she took the high jump. The scheme always worked, but it was a terrible leap, even for a Flying Squirrel,—fully twenty feet,—and Kitchi-Kitchi had no wings except her youthful spirits and her bounding energy. Many a time have I seen her upon a lofty branch, swinging by one hand, and waving the other at Meeko in a tree close by. He was fain to follow her, but she was always about four trees ahead.
Never have I seen the sweet influence of woman more beautifully exemplified. When she was with them, Bismarck and Meeko treated one another like long-lost brothers. The three took many a promenade together, arm in arm, Kitchi-Kitchi folding her tail over the hollow of her elbow as though it were a train. When she went away for her afternoon nap, or to gather some choice morsels for her evening meal, they invariably fought.
I kept court-plaster and bandages on hand to repair the damage that was always done on such occasions, and Kitchi-Kitchi never appeared to notice it except once. When Bismarck called upon her with a blood-stained bandage tied over one eye, she shrieked and kicked him outdoors. He fell to the ground like a dead weight, I suppose because his heart was so heavy—but fortunately was not injured further. Meeko had her to himself for a week after that, then Bismarck, the bandage gone, resumed his place at her side and upheld his right to it in many a scrimmage.
The two vied with each other in bringing dainties to tempt her appetite. Robins’ eggs, with the top part of the shell removed, all ready for sucking, mushrooms, nuts, berries, apple seeds, pop-corn, and the thousand other choice bits her educated palate was accustomed to, were laid at the door of her nest, high in the branches. It was Meeko who accidentally brought her a poisonous mushroom which made her so ill that for days her life was despaired of. She forgave him, however, and used to sit in the sun, very thin and pale, with two devoted attendants to wait upon her.
Naturalists who think that Squirrels eat Birds are very much mistaken. I have seen Meeko pounce on a wayfaring Bird hundreds of times, but curiosity has always been the motive. They will not eat Bird unless it is properly cooked. I know, for I have tried them with bits of a raw Crow, that had died from natural causes. The fact that Birds are not afraid of Squirrels triumphantly proves my theory, in spite of the fact that the eggs are occasionally taken out of the nest. Whenever a Squirrel has visited a Bird’s nest, after the young were hatched, curiosity and friendly interest in the welfare of the young have been the sole reasons in every case.