I spent my winter holidays with my grandfather, who works as a forester in the Caucasian Reserve. Grandfather invited me and my sister to see the new inhabitants of the reserve – light-gray fluffy belle-beauties, who were brought here from Altai.
A little light we were on our feet. Grandpa was walking ahead. Soon he stopped under a fir tree and whispered: “Well, admire.” We did not see anything for a few moments. But suddenly one branch trembled, and snow fell on us.
Here it is, a gray beauty with a fluffy tail! The squirrel flew lightly, like a bird, from branch to branch. A squirrel in a huge fir-tree lodged. Caught in a hollow, she, like a good housewife, immediately set to work. Began to tidy up her little house. She several times got out of the hollow and threw on us twigs, a shell of nuts.
I wanted to see the white house. I climbed to the top of the tree. The hostess jumped out of the hollow, sat down on the edge of the branch, covered her head with a fluffy tail and began to watch me uneasily. In the hollow, I saw a good supply of nuts. Suddenly the squirrel began to approach me slowly. I stared at me with black eyes and froze. And then stretched out, jumped up and from there soon pleased me with a spruce bump on the shoulder. I flinched and started to go down.
Grandfather looked at me and grinned: “Our squirrel can not be fooled!”