Squirrel guards his hoard of buried treasure, a winter's lair beneath an ancient fallen log. . Alarmed, squirrel chatters a shrill warning, and dives into the catacomb beneath the ancient grove.
Emerging, beyond the immense roots, squirrel vaults up to the pine's twisted branches, knocking cones down ward. Leaping to the next ponderosa, squirrel gnaws on cones, and pine seeds rain to the forest floor. Racing down the rigid trunk, squirrel gathers the fresh cones, dashing with them into the maze of tunnels.
I bend to discover the husked seed, like an archeologist, sifting through a midden.
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Squirrel love to tease, sitting on the lower branches of the pine trees, chirping insults in squirrelize. From time-to-time, I like to smear peanut butter high on a tree trunk just so I can watch them lick their fingers as if they were eating chicken.
ReplyDeleteSquirrls! Pisky pixies of the forest.
Life is good!