Squirrel Secrets (Part II)

Their network is vast. In the old arboreal wilderness of Atlantis past, a squirrel could run from one end of the island to the other without once coming to the ground. Wait. I'm pretty sure Tolkien said something like that about western Middle-Earth, and maybe it was never true here.

But I know where the local squirrel headquarters is. It is in one large old tree, one which is often surrounded by purple berries at the right time of the year. If you walk by quietly, you will hear the bickering, contentious chatter, and interactive outrage of a horde of intensely exercised squirrels.

If you should then stop and look up, there will be a moment's silence, as they realise they have a visitor. Then there is a sudden burst of chatter and a lot of running around — alarums and excursions, as the Bard used to say. Then, silence.

They no longer use the networks of the trees. Now, their network is fence and wall, hedge and post. They have squirrel internet. They probably tap into microwave dishes. I know they steal papayas left unattended. What a mafia!

Squirrel Secrets (Part I)

Every morning, if you time it right, just as the sun clears the immaculate hedges, you will see the squirrel. He's dark brown, wiry and trim, a speedster in a world of fat cats. He not so much runs, as sprints with undulation, along the fenceline. He is a little cheetah of the suburban savannah, that low-rise edge of the concrete jungle.

I wonder what he is running from. I wonder where he is running to. Perhaps he is running for the love of it. Perhaps he is a she.

The other day, I was awestruck by a particularly scintillating run. The squirrel flowed like muddy quicksilver up and down several trees. I had no idea (as usual) what he was looking for. Or she.

I don't know what squirrel families are like, but one sunny afternoon, in broiling heat, I saw the squirrel doing his run (or her run) this time, part of the road was included. And there were two smaller squirrels following close behind, doing the same route, but with a little less skill, a more tentative approach.

It was squirrel school, and I was privileged to be able to watch. And in the bright heat of the late day, I saw that their fur tinted red. It was like watching streaks of camouflaged fire zip through my quiet world.