Monsieur
Squirrel
I
had a particularly interesting job to accomplish today. I had to clean up the
remains of a squirrel’s nest which had fallen on to our tow path. Inhabited by
a bachelor squirrel throughout the winter, its fragile form held up much better
than I had predicted, in spite of its antiquity. It did, however, ultimately
disintegrate, as witnessed by the pile of twigs and dead leaves, clumped upon
the gravel of the path which encircles our lake.
I’m not surprised at his choice of
“digs” for the winter. It had been my privilege to witness his attempt to take
possession of a certain tree this last fall. Sitting at a window, which faces
our front yard, I witnessed his battle for ownership of a particularly stately
ash, which culminated in his ignominious ejection from said tree, ending in a
resounding thump, as his body hit the ground, clearly heard in spite of
the glass pane through which I peered. He fled with much chattering, which I
can only guess, were I able to translate, offended any lady-like squirrels
within hearing distance.
He is a handsome fellow. His tail is
full and tipped with white, his ears are pert, his eyes large and bright. His
pelt gleams with good health and is quite attractive. I can only imagine that
this spring he will reach his goal and woo a lady love, the ultimate end, of
course, being that of becoming a patriarch. I wonder if he’ll rebuild where his
flimsy shanty sheltered him throughout this rather wicked winter, or will he
choose more stable environs? I find it intriguing as to what Monsieur Squirrel
will do now.
Excerpt from Swinging Bridge
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