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  _BANNERTAIL_

  _THE STORY OF A GRAYSQUIRREL_

  BANNERTAIL

  THE STORY OF A GRAYSQUIRREL

  With 100 Drawings by Ernest Thompson Seton

  Author of

  Wild Animals I have Known Trail of the Sandhill Stag Biography of a Grizzly Lives of the Hunted Monarch The Big Bear

  New York Charles Scribner's Sons 1922

  Copyright, 1922, by ERNEST THOMPSON SETON

  Printed in the United States of America

  _FOREWORD_

  _These are the ideas that I have aimed to set forth in this tale._

  _1st. That although an animal is much helped by its mother's teaching,it owes still more to the racial teaching, which is instinct, and canmake a success of life without its mothers guidance, if only it can livethrough the dangerous time of infancy and early life._

  _2d. Animals often are tempted into immorality--by which I mean, anyhabit or practice that would in its final working, tend to destroy therace. Nature has rigorous ways of dealing with such._

  _3d. Animals, like ourselves, must maintain ceaseless war againstinsect parasites--or perish._

  _4th. In the nut forests of America, practically every tree was plantedby the Graysquirrel, or its kin. No squirrels, no nut-trees._

  _These are the motive thoughts behind my woodland novel. I hope I havepresented them convincingly; if not, I hope at least you have beenentertained by the romance._

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter Page I. The Foundling 1 II. His Kittenhood 9 III. The Red Horror 15 IV. The New and Lonely Life 19 V. The Fluffing of His Tail 25 VI. The First Nut Crop 31 VII. The Sun Song of Bannertail 39 VIII. The Cold Sleep 49 IX. The Balking of Fire-eyes 57 X. Redsquirrel, the Scold of the Woods 65 XI. Bannertail and the Echo Voice 71 XII. The Courting of Silvergray 77 XIII. The Home in the High Hickory 85 XIV. New Rivals 91 XV. Bachelor Life Again 97 XVI. The Warden Meets an Invader 103 XVII. The Hoodoo on the Home 109 XVIII. The New Home 117 XIX. The Moving of the Young 125 XX. The Coming-out Party 135 XXI. Nursery Days of the Young Ones 141 XXII. Cray Hunts for Trouble 147 XXIII. The Little Squirrels Go to School 151 XXIV. The Lopping of the Wayward Branch 157 XXV. Bannertail Falls into a Snare 163 XXVI. The Addict 173 XXVII. The Dregs of the Cup 181 XXVIII. The Way of Destruction 185 XXIX. Mother Carey's Lash 191 XXX. His Awakening 199 XXXI. The Unwritten Law 205 XXXII. Squirrel Games 213 XXXIII. When Bannertail Was Scarred for Life 221 XXXIV. The Fight with the Black Demon 229 XXXV. The Property Law among Animals 243 XXXVI. Gathering the Great Nut Harvest 251 XXXVII. And To-day 261

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  Facing Page His kittenhood 12 Baffling Fire-eyes 60 They twiddled whiskers good night 82 With an angry "Quare!" Silvergray scrambled up again 130 The little squirrels at school 154 Cray sank--a victim to his folly 160 A dangerous game 226 The battle with the Blacksnake 238

  _THE FOUNDLING_

  CHAPTER I

  THE FOUNDLING

  IT was a rugged old tree standing sturdy and big among the slendersecond-growth. The woodmen had spared it because it was too gnarled andtoo difficult for them to handle. But the Woodpecker, and a host ofwood-folk that look to the Woodpecker for lodgings, had marked and usedit for many years. Its every cranny and borehole was inhabited by somequaint elfin of the woods; the biggest hollow of all, just below thefirst limb, had done duty for two families of the Flickers who firstmade it, and now was the homing hole of a mother Graysquirrel.

  She appeared to have no mate; at least none was seen. No doubt theoutlaw gunners could have told a tale, had they cared to admit that theywent gunning in springtime; and now the widow was doing the best shecould by her family in the big gnarled tree. All went well for a while,then one day, in haste maybe, she broke an old rule in Squirreldom; sheclimbed her nesting tree openly, instead of going up its neighbor, andthen crossing to the den by way of the overhead branches. The farm boywho saw it, gave a little yelp of savage triumph; his caveman naturebroke out. Clubs and stones were lying near, the whirling end of a stickpicked off the mother Squirrel as she tried to escape with a little onein her mouth. Had he killed two dangerous enemies the boy could not haveyelled louder. Then up the tree he climbed and found in the nest twoliving young ones. With these in his pocket he descended. When on theground he found that one was dead, crushed in climbing down. Thus onlyone little Squirrel was left alive, only one of the family that he hadseen, the harmless mother and two helpless, harmless little ones dead inhis hands.

  Why? What good did it do him to destroy all this beautiful wild life? Hedid not know. He did not think of it at all. He had yielded only to thewild ancestral instinct to kill, when came a chance to kill, for we mustremember that when that instinct was implanted, wild animals were eitherterrible enemies or food that must be got at any price.

  The excitement over, the boy looked at the helpless squirming thing inhis hand, and a surge of remorse came on him. He could not feed it; itmust die of hunger. He wished that he knew of some other nest intowhich he might put it. He drifted back to the barn. The mew of a youngKitten caught his ear. He went to the manger. Here was the old Cat withthe one Kitten that had been left her of her brood born two days back.Remembrance of many Field-mice, Chipmunks and some Squirrels killed bythat old green-eyed huntress, struck a painful note. Yes! No matter whathe did, the old Cat would surely get, kill, and eat the orphan Squirrel.

  Then he yielded to a sudden impulse and said: "Here it is, eat it now."He dropped the little stranger into the nest beside the Kitten. The Catturned toward it, smelled it suspiciously once or twice, then licked itsback, picked it up in her mouth, and tucked it under her arm, where halfan hour later the boy found it taking dinner alongside its new-foundfoster-brother, while the motherly old Cat leaned back with chin inair, half-closed eyes and purring the happy, contented purr of motherpride. Now, indeed, the future of the Foundling was assured.

  _HIS KITTENHOOD_

  CHAPTER II

  HIS KITTENHOOD

  LITTLE Graycoat developed much faster than his Kitten foster-brother.The spirit of play was rampant in him, he would scramble up his mother'sleg a score of times a day, clinging on with teeth, arms and claws, thenmount her back and frisk along to climb her upright tail; and when hisweight was too much, down the tail would droop, and he would go merrilysliding off the tip to rush to her legs and climb and toboggan offagain. The Kitten never learned the trick. But it seemed to amuse theCat almost as much as it did the Squirrelet, and she showed an amazingpartiality for the lively, long-tailed Foundling. So did others
ofimportance, men and women folk of the farmhouse, and neighbors too. Thefrisky Graycoat grew up amid experiences foreign to his tastes, and of akind unknown to his race.

  The Kitten too grew up, and in midsummer was carried off to a distantfarmhouse to be "their cat."

  HIS KITTENHOOD]

  Now the Squirrel was over half-grown, and his tail was broadening outinto a great banner of buff with silver tips. His life was with the oldCat; his food was partly from her dish. But many things there were toeat that delighted him, and that pleased her not. There was corn in thebarn, and chicken-feed in the yard, and fruit in the garden. Well-fedand protected, he grew big and handsome, bigger and handsomer than hiswild brothers, so the house-folk said. But of that he knew nothing; hehad never seen his own people. The memory of his mother had fadedout. So far as he knew, he was only a bushy-tailed Cat. But inside wasan inheritance of instincts, as well as of blood and bone, that wouldsurely take control and send him herding, if they happened near, withthose and those alone of the blowsy silver tails.

  _THE RED HORROR_

  CHAPTER III

  THE RED HORROR

  IN the Hunting-moon it came, just when the corn begins to turn, and inthe dawn, when Bannertail Graycoat was yielding to the thrill that comeswith action, youth and life, in dew-time.

  There was a growing, murmuring sound, then smoke from the barn, likethat he had seen coming from the red mystery in the cook-house. But thisgrew very fast and huge; men came running, horses frantically plunginghurried out, and other living things and doings that he did notunderstand. Then when the sun was high a blackened smoking pile therewas where once had stood the dear old barn; and a new strange feelingover all. The old Cat disappeared. A few days more and the house-folk,too, were gone. The place was deserted, himself a wildwood rovingSquirrel, quite alone, without a trace of Squirrel training, such asexample of the old ones gives, unequipped, unaccompanied, unprepared forthe life-fight, except that he had a perfect body, and in his soulenthroned, the many deep and dominating instincts of his race.

  _THE NEW AND LONELY LIFE_

  CHAPTER IV

  THE NEW AND LONELY LIFE

  THE break was made complete by the Red Horror, and the going of theman-people. Fences and buildings are good for some things, but the talltimber of the distant wooded hill was calling to him and though he cameback many a time to the garden while there yet was fruit, and to thefield while the corn was standing, he was ever more in the timber andless in the open.

  Food there was in abundance now, for it was early autumn; and who was tobe his guide in this: "What to eat, what to let alone?" These two guideshe had, and they proved enough: _instinct_, the wisdom inherited fromhis forebears, and his keen, discriminating _nose_.

  Scrambling up a rotten stub one day, a flake of bark fell off, and herea-row were three white grubs; fat, rounded, juicy. It was instinct badehim seize them, and it was smell that justified the order; then which,it is hard to say, told him to reject the strong brown nippers at oneend of each prize. That day he learned to pry off flakes of bark for therich foodstuffs lodged behind.

  At another time, when he worked off a slab of bark in hopes of a meal,he found only a long brown millipede. Its smell was earthy but strange,its many legs and its warning feelers, uncanny. The smell-guide seemedin doubt, but the inborn warden said: "Beware, touch it not." He hungback watching askance, as the evil thing, distilling its strangepestilent gas, wormed Snake-like out of sight, and Bannertail in amoment had formed a habit that was of his race, and that lasted all hislife. Yea, longer, for he passed it on--this: Let the hundred-leggersalone. Are they not of a fearsome poison race?

  Thus he grew daily in the ways of woodlore. He learned that thegum-drops on the wounded bark of the black birch are good to eat, andthe little faded brown umbrella in the woods is the sign that it has awhite cucumber in its underground cellar; that the wild bees' nests havehoney in them, and grubs as good as honey; but beware, for the bee has asting! He learned that the little rag-bundle babies hanging from vineand twig, contain some sort of a mushy shell-covered creature that isamazingly good to eat; that the little green apples that grow on theoaks are not acorns, and are yet toothsome morsels of the lighter sort,while nearly every bush in the woods at autumn now had strings ofberries whose pulp was good to eat and whose single inside seed was assweet as any nut. Thus he was learning woodcraft, and grew andprospered, for outside of sundry Redsquirrels and Chipmunks there werefew competitors for this generous giving of the Woods.

  _THE FLUFFING OF HIS TAIL_

  CHAPTER V

  THE FLUFFING OF HIS TAIL

  THERE are certain stages of growth that are marked by changes which, ifnot sudden, are for a time very quick, and the big change in Bannertail,which took place just as he gave up the tricks and habits learned fromhis Cat-folk, and began to be truly a Squirrel, was marked by thefluffing of his tail. Always long and long-haired, it was a poor wisp ofa thing until the coming of the Hunting-moon. Then the hairs grew outlonger and became plumy, then the tail muscles swelled and worked withpower. Then, too, he began a habit of fluffing out that full andflaunting plume every few minutes. Once or twice a day he combed it, andever he was most careful to keep it out of wet or dirt. His coat mightbe stained with juice of fruit or gum of pine, and little he cared; butthe moment a pine drop or a bit of stick, moss, or mud clung to his tailhe stopped all other work to lick, clean, comb, shake, fluff anddouble-fluff that precious, beautiful member to its perfect fulness,lightness, and plumy breadth.

  Fluffing his Tail]

  Why? What the trunk is to the elephant and the paw to the monkey, thetail is to the Graysquirrel. It is his special gift, a vital part of hisoutfit, the secret of his life. The 'possum's tail is to swing by, thefox's tail for a blanket wrap, but the Squirrel's tail is a parachute, a"land-easy"; with that in perfect trim he can fall from any height inany tree and be sure of this, that he will land with ease andlightness, and on his feet.

  This thing Bannertail knew without learning it. It was implanted, not bywhat he saw in Kitten days, or in the woods about, but by the greatAll-Mother, who had builded up his athlete form and blessed him with aninner Guide.

  _THE FIRST NUT CROP_

  CHAPTER VI

  THE FIRST NUT CROP

  THAT year the nut crop was a failure. This was the off-year for the redoaks; they bear only every other season. The white oaks had been nippedby a late frost. The beech-trees were very scarce, and the chestnutswere gone--the blight had taken them all. Pignut hickories were notplentiful, and the very best of all, the sweet shag-hickory, hadsuffered like the white oaks.

  October, the time of the nut harvest, came. Dry leaves were drifting tothe ground, and occasional "thumps" told of big fat nuts that also werefalling, sometimes of themselves and sometimes cut by harvesters; for,although no other Graysquirrel was to be seen, Bannertail was notalone. A pair of Redsquirrels was there and half a dozen Chipmunkssearching about for the scattering precious nuts.

  Their methods were very different from those of the Graysquirrel race.The Chipmunks were carrying off the prizes in their cheek-pouches tounderground storehouses. The Redsquirrels were hurrying away with theirloads to distant hollow trees, a day's gathering in one tree. TheGraysquirrels' way is different. With them each nut is buried in theground, three or four inches deep, one nut at each place. A very preciseessential instinct it is that regulates this plan. It is inwrought withthe very making of the Graysquirrel race. Yet in Bannertail it wasscarcely functioning at all. Even the strongest inherited habit needs astarter.

  How does a young chicken learn to peck? It has a strong inborn readinessto do it, but we know that that impulse must be stimulated at first byseeing the mother peck, or it will not function. In an incubator it isnecessary to have a sophisticated chicken as a leader, or the chickensof the machine foster-mother will die, not knowing how to feed.Nevertheless, the instinct is so strong that a trifle will arouse it totake control. Yes, so small a trifle as tapping on the incubator
floorwith a pencil-point will tear the flimsy veil, break the restrainingbond and set the life-preserving instinct free.

  Like this chicken, robbed of its birthright by interfering man, wasBannertail in his blind yielding to a vague desire to hide the nuts. Hehad never seen it done, the example of the other nut-gatherers was nothelpful--was bewildering, indeed.

  Confused between the inborn impulse and the outside stimulus of example,Bannertail would seize a nut, strip off the husk, and hide it quicklyanywhere. Some nuts he would thrust under bits of brush or tufts ofgrass; some he buried by dropping leaves and rubbish over them, and afew, toward the end, he hid by digging a shallow hole. But the real,well-directed, energetic instinct to hide nut after nut, burying themthree good inches, an arm's length, underground, was far from beingaroused, was even hindered by seeing the Redsquirrels and the Chipmunksabout him bearing away their stores, without attempting to bury them atall.

  So the poor, skimpy harvest was gathered. What was not carried off washidden by the trees themselves under a layer of dead and fallen leaves.

  High above, in an old red oak, Bannertail found a place where a brokenlimb had let the weather in, so the tree was rotted. Digging out thesoft wood left an ample cave, which he gnawed and garnished into a warmand weather-proof home.