Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 April 1881 — Whistling to a Squirrel. [ARTICLE]

Whistling to a Squirrel.

One afternoon, when out looking for game, I sat down on a pile of rails to rest. Pretty soon I discovered in an oak tree some twenty yards away a red squirrel stretched at full length on a limb taking a sun bath. Instead of raising my rifle and sending a ball through the little fellow (it’s a mighty mean “sportsman” that endeavors to lull all he sees) I decided to give him a little pleasure if I could, sol commenced to whistle the air of that once-popular ditty, “ I Love Thee, Sweet Norah O’Neil.” In a twinkling the squirrel was up on his hind legs, his tail over his back, his head cocked on one side, listening to me; a moment of irresolution, and then he scampered down the trunk of the tree to the ground and started toward me; he came a few yards, stopped, sat np on end and listened again. I was careful not to move, and kept on whistling. After waiting a moment the little beauty came on, jumped up on the pile of rails, ran along within four feet of me, halted, went up on end again, made an umbrella of his tail, tipped his head to one side, looked at me with all the gravity of a Justice of the Peace at his first trial, and yet if ever a creature’s eye beamed with pleasure his did. I did not move, but after a little I abruptly changed the tune to the “ Sweet By and By.” Chut! Why, with the first note of the different tune away went the squirrel. I did not move, only as I shook with suppressed laughter, and as well as I could kept on whistling. In a minute or two back came the squirrel, going through all the cunning maneuvers of his first approach, and once more took a seat before me on the rails. I watched him, and actually thought he was trying to pucker up his mouth and whistle. • Once again I changed the tune, this time to “ Yankee Doodle,” and as before, with the first note of change, away scampered the squirrel. Unable to control my risibilities any longer, I laughed aloud, and after that I couldn’t call my little friend to me. I wonder how many of the so-called “ true sportsmen” ever seek or think of any pleasure in connection with such beautiful little creatures save the savage and unmanly pleasure of taking away their lives !—Forest and Stream.