The first thing to do was to find a residence. This was an easy task, for there were dozens to choose from. Walnut was very keen upon an old magpie’s nest which he found in a huge thorn-tree, and which was still in excellent repair even to the roof; but I had had enough of built nests, and preferred a knot-hole in a beech. Once a squirrel takes to living in holes in trees, he usually sticks to the same description of residence to the end of his days. One fact which struck me as odd during our first day’s exploration of the river-side wood was the almost entire absence of our own tribe. We only saw two squirrels besides ourselves, and they were young and anything but friendly. In fact, they both bolted before we could have a word with them. It was the drumming of heavy rain among the dying foliage above that woke us at daylight next morning. The sky was one uniform grey, and everything was soaking and dripping. We had reason indeed to be thankful that we had found a warm dry home, for this weather looked like lasting. Last it did, all day long, and as there was nothing else to do we curled up and slept. Evening came, and still it rained—harder if anything than before. It was too wet to go out and forage, and so we went hungry to bed. It is a fortunate dispensation that we squirrel folk can go for long periods without food if we can find a dry place to sleep in, for I have seldom known a squirrel who would not sooner be hungry than wet. Next morning it was still raining, though not so hard. Large pools lay in every depression, and the hoarse roar of the swollen river echoed through the soaking woods. Rain had now been falling for thirty-six hours straight on end, and we had been all that time without a meal. Walnut told me he was simply starving, and must go out and find a few acorns. I let him go, but, being sleepy, I did not accompany him.