Hey, everyone. Yeah, I know it's a weird title. There are times, here on the mountain, when the animals seem to act a bit strange. Today was one of those days. This morning as we were drinking our coffee there was a deer hanging around out back. He wasn't very big, maybe a teen-aged deer. He acted lethargic and I thought, perhaps, that he just needed a little more roughage in his diet. He would wander around a bit, then he'd lay in a patch of sunshine. This went on for hours. He didn't even nibble at the laurel. I started to worry that the dude was hurt or sick, or dying. Eventually another deer came up, which was good. Normally deer are very social animals. When we went out for our walk the two deer drifted away and I forgot about them.
In the afternoon I walked by the bedroom window and noticed a squirrel sitting next to my car. Nothing new about that. When I came back five minutes later, he was still sitting there, either staring at the car or looking off into space. My wife appeared at my side.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I dunno," I said.
"Do you think he's frozen to death?"
"No."
This went on for a while. I'd look out, he'd be sitting. I began to wonder what he thought about. Was he dreaming of a fantastic new land where it never got cold? A place where the acorns grew as big as apples and fell all year long? A land where the squirrels were all bright eyed and bushy tailed? Maybe stories of such a place had been passed down generation to generation in the squirrel family. When the winters got long and hard and the bounty of acorns was not so bounteous (like this year), maybe the squirrels kept up their morale by sharing the legends around the nest. Maybe he was thinking, "If I owned that car, I'd get in it and drive south, right now, and I wouldn't stop until I started to shed this thick fur. I'd go south until the oaks started to turn to pines. Then I'd party."
Back in the fall, I remember shaking my head at the small amount of acorns and hickory nuts that were produced. It just now occurred to me that the animals' stupor might have something to do with a shortage of food. I do not know and they are not talking. Sometimes there is a feeling here in the mountains that lends itself to lazing about and doing very little. Perhaps that is what was happening today.
I prefer to think that the squirrel was meditating on a better place, a better time, like many of the people in the world tonight. Eventually the squirrel wandered off, once more going about his business, as will most of us, as we dream of better times.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
In the afternoon I walked by the bedroom window and noticed a squirrel sitting next to my car. Nothing new about that. When I came back five minutes later, he was still sitting there, either staring at the car or looking off into space. My wife appeared at my side.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I dunno," I said.
"Do you think he's frozen to death?"
"No."
This went on for a while. I'd look out, he'd be sitting. I began to wonder what he thought about. Was he dreaming of a fantastic new land where it never got cold? A place where the acorns grew as big as apples and fell all year long? A land where the squirrels were all bright eyed and bushy tailed? Maybe stories of such a place had been passed down generation to generation in the squirrel family. When the winters got long and hard and the bounty of acorns was not so bounteous (like this year), maybe the squirrels kept up their morale by sharing the legends around the nest. Maybe he was thinking, "If I owned that car, I'd get in it and drive south, right now, and I wouldn't stop until I started to shed this thick fur. I'd go south until the oaks started to turn to pines. Then I'd party."
Back in the fall, I remember shaking my head at the small amount of acorns and hickory nuts that were produced. It just now occurred to me that the animals' stupor might have something to do with a shortage of food. I do not know and they are not talking. Sometimes there is a feeling here in the mountains that lends itself to lazing about and doing very little. Perhaps that is what was happening today.
I prefer to think that the squirrel was meditating on a better place, a better time, like many of the people in the world tonight. Eventually the squirrel wandered off, once more going about his business, as will most of us, as we dream of better times.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
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