The trees are alive with the frantic antics of small squirrels. Fearless, crazy, daft, funny, charming, imbecilic, sweet, beautiful squirrel youngsters. They leap with abandon and chase each other with what looks like murderous intent. Every time I see one vault from the fence to a tree I hear a small voice in my head shouting, "GERONIMO". (Do I also say this out loud, quietly, under my breath? Well, who wouldn't?)
They are much less afraid of us than their experienced parents, and one in particular will take peanuts from our hand. The other day, I proffered a peanut, and the wee squirrel put a paw out on my finger to steady it before he took the peanut. His paw was soft, like cat pads, and so delicate. Knowing squirrels are chock full of fleas and mites did nothing to diminish the magic of the moment. When I think of that delicate brush with another being I can't help but feel special and smile.
There is another little urchin who chews the feeder lid incessantly so I guess we know where THAT one came from!
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