There's this squirrel that lives in my yard. It's a cute little fella. Mostly grey, with a bit of a scraggly tail. Not as bushy as it once was in his youth. An old man, as squirrels go. It tore apart my bird feeder a couple of weeks ago. I call him Moe.
Moe is a loner. There are other squirrels in the yard, but none hang out with Moe. There's Kevin and Rachel, they chase each other around the yard all day, playing amongst the branches. But whenever they run into Moe, they freeze and slowly back away. Fitch will pick a fight with Moe at least once a week. Virginia seems to seek him out daily. But when she finds him, she only bounces away awkwardly. It's a strange dance involving rolling in the grass, backflips, and bouncing on her tail.
No one sticks around long when Moe is hanging about. Moe demands space. Moe, when sensing someone is near, will stand on his hind legs and show jazz hands. This intimidates the other squirrels.
I've been watching this behavior for weeks. What I hadn't realized until just recently, was that he had also been studying me.
I found him in one of his favorite spots, the base of the maple tree in the backyard. Virginia had just run up behind him and pulled his tail. When he turned, she somersaulted away. He then turned to look at me through the sliding glass door and shrugged as if to say "What're ya gonna do? She's bonkers."
I began to write my observations in my notebook. When I looked back up again, he was no longer under the maple tree. He was now right here on the back deck, standing just on the other side of the glass door. Standing on his back legs, and writing in a tiny little notepad of his own. In my astonishment, I looked around for anyone else in the house to share this with. Trish was right there in the kitchen, making no-bake cookies.
"Honey! Look!" I pointed down at- he was gone! I searched the deck. I didn't see him anywhere.
"What is it?" Trish asked from the stove, a little annoyed, "I'm stirring right now. I can't leave this."
"Nevermind. He's gone. It was that squirrel with the scraggly tail."
"Moe?" Ayla asked, coming over by the glass door to look. "Where?"
"He was right here," I pointed, "right in front of me. He was..." How did I phrase this? "He was writing in a notepad!"
"He was what?" Ayla looked confused. Trish only rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. She had no time for my nonsense. But Ayla wasn't as quick to dismiss me. "What are you talking about?"
"Virginia yanked on his tail over there by the maple tree," I pointed as I spoke, "and then he came right up here on the deck, standing on his back legs, and wrote in a little notepad."
Ayla smiled, indulgingly. "Well, maybe he's writing a book. Just like you!"
"But, really!"
"What do you think his book is about?" She started to go back to the living room. "Maybe he's writing a romance novel about Virginia." She sat down, smiling, put her ear bud back in her ear, and picked her book back up from the couch cushion.
I was too frustrated with my inability to prove what happened to enjoy her banter. I turned back to the glass door and scanned the yard again. There! He was under the maple tree again. Was he smiling? Did squirrels smile? And did he just wink? It was too far away to be sure. Then he climbed up the tree, circling around the trunk once, and was lost in the branches.
I sat down at the nearby dining room table and put my head in my hands. What exactly just happened? I mean, I know I haven't slept well lately. But, hallucinations?
My Uncle Larry called then, pulling me out of my confused thoughts and back into the present. He needed my help with something. Somehow, Moe slipped into the back of my mind and I left to take care of my uncle's needs.
Then yesterday, I was out back cutting up the tree that fell with the last storm. I had a little pile going, far smaller than I would have liked it to be. I was grumbling to myself about a complete lack of proper power tools that could help with this job. My arm was sore from the hand saw, and sweat was dripping into my eyes. I stopped to wipe my face with my shirt sleeve. When I looked back up, Moe was sitting on the tree I was just cutting, about six feet away from me.
"I've seen other humans cut trees much quicker than you. You do it far quieter though. I like that. Except when you're yelling at that tool in your hand. It doesn't seem to respond though. You are a curious human."
The first time you are addressed by a squirrel is always the most surprising.
"You..." was the best I could come up with for my first reply. Then I just stood there with my mouth open. A bug flew in. I choked on it and spit it back out.
He pointed at himself. "Me?"
"I talk to animals all the time. You're the first to respond."
"Oh, well, as to that..." He looked around conspiratorially. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you."
I looked around too. There didn't seem to be any other animals around at the moment.
"They're at a meeting."
"What? You guys have meetings?"
"Don't you?"
"I mean, yeah. But what do squirrels have meetings about?"
"When this tree fell, there were a couple of folks that needed a new place to live. They've been staying with friends, temporarily, but they are straining the limits of friendship. I believe there have been some unsanctioned romances. They are addressing the committee."
"The committee?"
"Mm hmm. What do you have meetings about?"
"Like, production numbers and stuff, I guess. I don't know, I don't attend many meetings."
"Ah. Like how many acorns you've harvested?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Interesting..." He pulled out his notepad and started writing.
"What are you writing? And where did you get that little notepad? And pen?" I squinted to try to see his instruments a little better.
"Top secret." He put the pad behind his back and then it was gone, his paws were now empty. "Listen, the meeting won't last much longer. I gotta get back. But before I do, I want to ask you something."
"Ok?" What else could I say? I was not exactly prepared for a first ever interspecies communication this afternoon. I tried to mentally brace myself for what would undoubtedly be a very important question. Perhaps something about a meeting between leaders? What would we discuss? Should I find a scientist or something? A squirrel specialist? Someone who would bridge the gap between species?
"What's that song you were singing out here earlier?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"You were singing a song when you first came out to cut the tree. What was it?"
"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun? By Cyndi Lauper?"
"Yes, that sounds about right. I enjoyed that. Particularly when you hit the high notes. Keep it up!" He hopped off the fallen tree, and bounded off through the trees without another word.
All I could think as I watched him hop away was that, although I never imagined a first encounter with a talking squirrel, this was not how I thought it would go.
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