There is always squirrel action in our back yard; they’re climbing up the bird feeder pole or running down the big oak. They race along the fence with stolen apples or tomatoes in their mouths. They leap blithely from one tree to another–six feet, eight feet or more–death-defying jumps without net, helmet, or vine. The little bastards run along the utility wires at the back of the lot with an ease that would make The Flying Wallendas feel AWK-ward. It’s a freakin’ circus out there.
The obnoxious critters taunt the dog and eat the bird seed as well as anything I try to grow. They make big ugly nests in the trees, biting off small branches to use as building materials.
I’ve read that they live about six years–less in urban settings–but I’d swear that these are of the Methuselah genus. In fact, not ever having found a dead one out there in damnsquirrel paradise, I might even think them immortal, had my blogging buddy Texas Trailer Park Trash not posted a photograph of a squirrel skull as proof of demise. Of course, that IS Texas. Perhaps there was a duel.
In the interest of fairness, I’ve tried to think of something good to say about them. I’ll leave a bit of space, in case something comes to mind.
This morning as I was outside watering my potted plants, incessant squirrel chatter was drowning out the birdsong. All of a sudden, right in front of me, two squirrels came flying out of the tree, landing on the concrete driveway with an audible THUNK. It had to have been a 20 feet drop but after a stunned moment, they disentangled, jumped to their feet, and dashed back up the oak tree.
Well now. . . .
They went up so fast I couldn’t tell whether or not their fat cheeks were red with embarrassment. (Reminds me of the time Dearly Beloved and I were staying at the Watergate Hotel in Washington and had to call the front desk after the bed broke in the middle of the night. We’d been asleep, but who’d ever believe it?!)
Had to be a morning tree rat tryst! Perhaps that explains all the gibberish. The small leafy branch that fell with them was loaded with acorns.
Breakfast in bed, I suppose.