Flying squirrels become very gentle and attractive little pets if taken into the house. I cannot say as much for gray squirrels. Once when a small boy I climbed up to a large nest of dry leaves in the fork of a big chestnut tree, and from it picked out three very young squirrels. One died, but the other two I succeeded in rearing on a milk diet, which at first I was obliged to administer with a syringe. They grew up absolutely tame and would climb all over the various members of the household; but as they grew older they grew cross. If we children did something they did not like they would not only scold us vigorously, but, if they thought the provocation warranted it, would bite severely; and we finally exiled them to the woods. Gray squirrels, I am sorry to say, rob nests just as red squirrels do. At Sagamore Hill I have more than once been attracted by the alarm notes of various birds, and on investigation have found the winged woodland people in great agitation over a gray squirrel’s assault on the eggs or young of a thrush or vireo; and once one of these good-looking marauders came up the hill to harry a robin’s nest near the house. Many years ago I had an extraordinary experience with a gray squirrel. I was in the edge of some woods, and, seeing a squirrel, I stood motionless. The squirrel came to me and actually climbed up me; I made no movement until it began to nibble at my elbow, biting through my flannel shirt. When I moved, it of course jumped off, but it did not seem much frightened and lingered for some minutes in view, about thirty yards away. I have never understood the incident. Among the small mammals at Sagamore Hill the chipmunks are the most familiar and the most in evidence; for they readily become tame and confiding. For three or four years a chipmunk—I suppose the same chipmunk—has lived near the tennis court; and it has developed the rather puzzling custom of sometimes scampering across the court while we are in the middle of a game. This has happened two or three times every year, and is rather difficult to explain, for the chipmunk could just as well go round the court, and there seems no possible reason why he should suddenly run out on it while the game is in full swing. If we see him, we all stop to watch him, and then he may himself stop and look about; but we may not see him until just as he is finishing a frantic scurry across, in imminent danger of being stepped on. [Illustration: AUDREY TAKES THE BARS From a photograph, copyright, 1907, by Clinedinst ]