A good story is told by an old lumberman, who, in the early days of steamboating on the Ohio river, contracted to deliver on board of steamboat one hundred thousand shingles at a “wood-landing” of one of the river counties in Ohio. The shingles were stacked on the bank of the river ready for shipment. A few days after, the lumberman heard most of his “stuff” had been stolen, and that it was probable it had gone to Pittsburg. On receiving this unwelcome news, he drove down to the river to look after the condition of things. Before he reached the place he found the woods alive with squirrels marching toward the river. On his return the workmen asked what discoveries were made. The reply was, “The shingles never went to Pittsburg;” “they all went down the river, and it is useless to look in Pittsburg or any other place for them.”... “I got to the river just in time to know all about it. You see, the squirrels are marching and crossing the river at that point; and the commanding general is not much on a swim, and he carried one of my shingles down to the water and rode over on it, and every colonel, captain, lieutenant and commissioned and non-commissioned officer did what they saw their general do, and finally the rank and file made a raid, and I got there just as an old squirrel came down to the water dragging a shingle, which he shoved into the river, jumped upon it, raised his brush for a sail and went over high and dry; and when near enough the other shore leaped off and let his boat float down the stream. As soon as these observations were taken in, I went up on the high bank where the shingles had been stored, and found there was not a shingle left--they are down the river, gentlemen--down the river, sure.” This story receives a shadow of support from the learned and cautious Buffon, who observes: “Although the navigations of the grey squirrels seem almost incredible, they are attested by so many witnesses that we can not deny the fact.” And in a note on the subject says: “The grey squirrels frequently remove their place of residence, and it not unoften happens that not one can be seen one winter where they were in multitudes the year before; they go in large bodies, and when they want to cross a lake or river they seize a _piece of the bark of a birch or lime, and drawing it to the edge of the water, get upon it, and trust themselves to the hazard of the wind and waves, erecting their tails_ to serve the purpose of _sails_; they sometimes form a fleet of three or four thousand, and if the wind proves too strong, a general shipwreck ensues ... but if the winds are favorable they are certain to make their desired port.”[18]