Squirrel – Master of All He/She Surveys
For some reason, the squirrels like to sit on our patio
chairs. Usually they sprawl flat out along the top or laze quite comfortably on
the seat. They are aware of the people who live in the house but we don’t seem to
bother them unless we open the door and chase them away.
This time a squirrel was upright on the back of the chair,
facing the yard. He (or was it she?) knew we were watching but it did not
bother him. He was relaxed and seemed to be taking in “his” property, observing
the colors of the leaves, the birds as they flew on and off the feeders, the
other squirrels zipping along the ground around him. He had the look of being
master of all he surveys. We didn’t have the heart to shoo him off.
We have lots of squirrels in our backyard. They make nests
in the trees, eat the seeds that drop from the feeders and sometimes find a way
to get around the baffles and onto the feeders themselves. They chase each
other during breeding season, run strangers away, or sometimes they scrabble
just for fun. We complain that they share too many of our vegetables and use
our patio for their own social gatherings. Occasionally, one will look in our
kitchen window and stare at our table as we eat. We can almost hear the question,
So, what’s for dinner?
This was different, however. The squirrel wasn’t looking for
handouts. He wasn’t in breeding mode or protecting his turf. There was a
peacefulness about him, unusual for a creature who seems constantly active. The
squirrel’s tail stretched long and rested down the chair’s back, not twitching
like I was used to seeing.
He/she stayed there for quite a while. I was transfixed with
every turn of the creature’s head. There was something sacred about the scene.
Did the squirrel feel connected with what he was seeing? Once, he turned and
looked toward the glass door through which we were watching but did not
register any fright or inclination to scoot away, then turned back and
continued what now seemed like a vigil.
I couldn’t tell if the squirrel was owning what he/she saw
or being embraced by it. It didn’t matter. As I watched, I felt a connection –
to the squirrel, to what was being observed, to the larger sense of nature.
Suddenly everything seemed new. It was
a broadening experience propelled from a very simple cause. It made me aware
that the world is always different, depending upon one’s view.
I turned away before the squirrel did. In the morning, the
backyard was once again bustling with activity. I couldn’t tell which squirrel
was the philosopher but I could appreciate the idea that everyone, whatever our
size, has a personal perspective to offer.
An overview of the Eastern Gray Squirrel:
Posts
