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STRIPED CHIPMUNK. He has pockets in his cheeks for carrying his food.
“Well, well! See who's here!” exclaimed Old Mother Nature. “What have you come for, Striped Chipmunk?”
“I've come to try to learn. Will you let me stay, Mother Nature?” replied Striped Chipmunk.
“Of course I'll let you stay,” cried Old Mother Nature heartily. “I am glad you have come, especially glad you have come today, because to-day's lesson is to be about you and your cousins. Now, Peter Rabbit, what are the differences between Striped Chipmunk and his cousins, the Tree Squirrels?”
Peter looked very hard at Striped Chipmunk as if he had never really seen him before. “He is smaller than they are,” began Peter. “In fact, he is the smallest Squirrel I know.” Peter paused.
Old Mother Nature nodded encouragingly. “Go on,” said she.
“He wears a striped coat,” continued Peter. “The stripes are black and yellowish-white and run along his sides, a black stripe running down the middle of his back. The rest of his coat is reddish-brown above and light underneath. His tail is rather thin and flat. I never see him in the trees, so I guess he can't climb.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” interrupted Striped Chipmunk. “I can climb if I want to, and I do sometimes, but prefer the ground.”
“Go on, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature.
“He seems to like old stone walls and rock piles,” continued Peter, “and he is one of the brightest, liveliest, merriest and the most lovable of all my friends.”
“Thank you, Peter,” said Striped Chipmunk softly.
“I never have been able to find his home,” continued Peter. “That is one of his secrets. But I know it is in the ground. I guess this is all I know about him. I should say the chief difference between Striped Chipmunk and the Tree Squirrels is that he spends all his time on the ground while the others live largely in the trees.”
“Very good, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature. “But there are two very important differences which you have not mentioned. Striped Chipmunk has a big pocket on the inside of each cheek, while his cousins of the trees have no pockets at all.”
“Of course,” cried Peter. “I don't see how I came to forget that. I've laughed many times at Striped Chipmunk with those pockets stuffed with nuts or seeds until his head looked three times bigger than it does now. Those pockets must be very handy.”
“They are,” replied Striped Chipmunk. “I couldn't get along without them. They save me a lot of running back and forth, I can tell you.”
“And the other great difference,” said Old Mother Nature, “is that Striped Chipmunk sleeps nearly all winter, just waking up occasionally to pop his head out on a bright day to see how the weather is. A great many folks call Striped Chipmunk a Ground Squirrel, but more properly he is a Rock Squirrel because he likes stony places best. Supposing, Striped Chipmunk, you tell us where and how you make your home.”
“I make my home down in the ground,” replied Striped Chipmunk. “I dig a tunnel just big enough to run along comfortably. Down deep enough to be out of reach of Jack Frost I make a nice little bedroom with a bed of grass and leaves, and I make another little room for a storeroom in which to keep my supply of seeds and nuts. Sometimes I have more than one storeroom. Also I have some little side tunnels.”
“But why is it I never have been able to find the entrance to your tunnel?” asked Peter, as full of curiosity as ever.
“Because I have it hidden underneath the stone wall on the edge of the Old Orchard,” replied Striped Chipmunk.
“But even then, I should think that all the sand you must have taken out would give your secret away,” cried Peter.
Striped Chipmunk chuckled happily. It was a throaty little chuckle, pleasant to hear. “I looked out for that,” said he. “There isn't a grain of that sand around my doorway. I took it all out through another hole some distance away, a sort of back door, and then closed it up solidly. If you please, Mother Nature, if I am not a Ground Squirrel, who is?”
“Your cousin, Seek Seek the Spermophile, sometimes called Gopher Squirrel, who lives on the open plains of the West where there are no rocks or stones. He likes best the flat, open country. He is called Spermophile because that means seed-eater, and he lives largely on seeds, especially on grain. Because of this he does a great deal of damage and is much disliked by farmers.
“Seek Seek's family are the true Ground Squirrels. Please remember that they never should be called Gophers, for they are not Gophers. One of the smallest members of the family is just about your size, Striped Chipmunk, and he also wears stripes, only he has more of them than you have, and they are broken up into little dots. He is called the Thirteen-lined Spermophile. He has pockets in his cheeks just as you have, and he makes a home down in the ground very similar to yours. All the family do this, and all of them sleep through the winter. While they are great seed-eaters they also eat a great many insects and worms, and some of them even are guilty of killing and eating the babies of birds that nest on the ground, and also young mice.
SEEK SEEK THE SPERMOPHILE. The Thirteen-lined Spermophile, a true Ground Squirrel and not a Gopher.
“Some members of the family are almost as big as Happy Jack the Gray Squirrel and have gray coats. They are called Gray Ground Squirrels and sometimes Gray Gophers. One of the largest of these is the California Ground Squirrel. He has a big, bushy tail, very like Happy Jack's. He gets into so much mischief in the grain fields and in the orchards that he is quite as much disliked as is Jack Rabbit. This particular member of the family is quite as much at home among rocks and tree roots as in open ground. He climbs low trees for fruit and nuts, but prefers to stay on the ground. Now just remember that the Chipmunks are Rock Squirrels and their cousins the Spermophiles are Ground Squirrels. Now who of you has seen Timmy the Flying Squirrel lately?”
THE CALIFORNIA GROUND SQUIRREL. He looks much like the Gray Squirrel but is a true Spermophile.
“I haven't,” said Peter Rabbit.
“I haven't,” said Striped Chipmunk.
“I haven't,” said Happy Jack.
“I haven't,” said Chatterer.
“I have,” spoke up Jumper the Hare. “I saw him last evening just after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun went to bed behind the Purple Hills and the Black Shadows came creeping through the Green Forest. My, I wish I could fly the way he can!”
Old Mother Nature shook her head disapprovingly. “Jumper,” said she, “what is wrong with your eyes? When did you ever see Timmy fly?”
“Last night,” insisted Jumper stubbornly.
“Oh, no, you didn't,” retorted Old Mother Nature. “You didn't see him fly, for the very good reason that he cannot fly any more than you can. You saw him simply jump. Just remember that the only animals in this great land who can fly are the Bats. Timmy the Flying Squirrel simply jumps from the top of a tree and slides down on the air to the foot of another tree. If you had used your eyes you would have noticed that when he is in the air he never moves his legs or arms, and he is always coming down, never going up, excepting for a little at the end of his jump, as would be the case if he could really fly. He hasn't any wings.”
TIMMY THE FLYING SQUIRREL. He does not actually fly for he has no wings.
“When he's flying, I mean jumping, he looks as if he had wings,” insisted Jumper stubbornly.