January 29, 2012

• #WinterSH29 squirrelly

  write something that includes this totally random phrase, “She will get a job as an agent’s assistant by January.” 

   

  I’ve looked at squirrels from both sides now.  Mild fear and amusement.  Those are the two sides.

  My undergrad campus was filled with squirrels, well fed squirrels, by the thousands.  And I thought squirrels were a little scary.  Because they wanted to bite my ankles.  I was sure of it.  There was really no way to avoid the squirrels.  It’s a big open campus filled with trees and all the kinds of nooks that squirrels love.  And lots of nice college students to throw them tasty morsels.  Happy, happy squirrels.  I did my part to feed them out of self-preservation.  I’ve long had a love affair with Twizzlers.  They are my go-to treat when I need a pick-me-up.  They are for special occasions now, but in those days, special Twizzlers days were pretty much the days ending in “y”.  But it was self-preservation, as I said.  Because if the squirrels’ little mouths were busy chewing on bits of Twizzlers, they couldn’t bite my ankles.  This is the only reason there could be for sharing Twizzlers. 

  Fast forward a lifetime.  I find myself with a backyard full of trees and all kinds of nooks that squirrels love.  So I have a constant supply of squirrel guests.  Perhaps I’m a little less neurotic (about squirrels), but I no longer fear for my ankles.  Instead I enjoy sitting outside or looking out the back window to watch the show.  Really, squirrels give an entertaining little performance.  It’s fun to watch a squirrel run up a tree.  When two of them chase each other in a little spiral, it’s amusing.  The squirrel who twitters along that big wire that leads the house and then stops suddenly- eye to eye with me but about 8 feet away- as if to say “what the heck are you doing there?” 

  Yesterday our little psychoninjakitten was practicing her hunting skills in the backyard.  I saw the branch she was looking at as it shook a little bit, then paused, then shook some more.  And she assumed the hunter pose, not the one where the butt wiggle is required but the one where stillness is vital.  So I knew it wasn’t another cat she was watching so carefully.  Then scritchety scritch scritch, the squirrel leaped out of one tree, skittered across the grass, and launched itself up the big pine tree.  All the while, the kitten studied.  Her eyes glued to the squirrel.  And then she got serious, hunkered down and was seconds away from pursuit.  Yikes. Because first of all, she’s not much bigger than a squirrel and second she gets stuck in trees.  I was leary of the end of this story.  Thank goodness something moved in another direction and she remembered that she wasn’t interested in chasing that squirrel after all.

  Once the squirrel was certain that he wasn’t being followed, he climbed to the branch that overhangs the big honking wires.  Entered the wire highway, skulked to the prearranged rendezvous location.  Meanwhile, the other squirrel climbed the pole and joined her compatriot for the clandestine meeting on the high wire.  The first squirrel said the code phrase, “That one gives Twizzlers, don’t eat them.”  The second squirrel gave the appropriate response, “She will get a job as an agent’s assistant by January.”(whoop, there it is) And the two conspirators snuck off together.

  All of this show merely for my amusement.

  • 12:56 pm
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