The other morning, I thought the mail lady had come. I heard the mailbox.
I looked. A squirrel dashed away into the small trees near the porch. She left a piece of toast in the mailbox.
Previously, I found peanuts-in-the-shell there.
What a hiding place!
Squirrel you are genius!
The ringmaster, flicker, was not available to start the show.
All of a sudden, there were at least half a dozen squirrels, maybe more, racing through the treetops. Flying through the branches without a trapeze.
They were either playing or fighting; I’m not sure which. And when it was all over, I wasn’t sure whether to clap, laugh, or tell them to behave themselves.
The squirrel was jerking back and forth uncontrollably in the grass. I was really worried about it. Had it got caught in some wire or a line?
I had thrown a thin branch into the grass from the garden and the squirrel was grabbing it and twirling under it and at one point it jumped straight up, at least half a foot, into the air.
And then I understood. It wasn’t caught or hurt. It was having fun.