Squirrels live on trees doing Squirrel Things, scampering on agile butterfly feet, scratching their ears with baby fingers, cleaning their bushy tails, playing endless games of catch-me-if-you-can, going crazy at the return of the light ("OH MY GOD, it's back!") and standing on their hind feet and stretching their arms and yawning and warming their fluffy tummies in the first rays of the morning sun when all is well and ummmmmmmm happy in their small squirrel world.
Every morning they come down from the trees, and take what the day offers them. Sometimes there is food, sometimes there isn't. But every morning they come down and notice - "OH MY GOD, it's morning again!" And run around like crazy the rest of the day, chasing each other up and down and around tree trunks, round and round, like they are on wheels. Squirrels never get dizzy. They have a Dizzy Stabilizer in their heads. Am sure they won't faint on a roller coaster like I do.
Understandably I am on a high when I return from my morning walks full of squirrel encounters. Some part of my soul must be with them.
I figured out a long time ago that humans were put on this earth primarily to create electric lines and TV cables so that squirrels can get from tree to tree without having to come down and cross the road. We are just Squirrel Bridge Makers, and we are blessed to be given such purpose. (Come on, can you come up with a better reason? :) )
I watch squirrels all the time, wherever I go. I can hear a squirrel above the sound of the traffic. In the park I sometimes follow Squirrels Going Somewhere jumping from tree to tree and sometimes I discover squirrel nests.
If a squirrel comes near me, you no longer have my attention, sorry. I like you, but the trust of an animal is Another Thing Altogether. That is the kind of thing you have to kneel down to accept, in reverence and wonder. For a tiny little piece of time, the wall between you and a wild creature has come down. And you look into each other's eyes. And wonder - do I know you?
Of all the saints, I relate the most to St Francis of Assisi, the Patron Saint of Animals. And therefore this poem speaks to me.
Happiness
Jane Hirshfield
http://whilethereisstilltime.blogspot.com/2014/05/for-what-else-might-happiness-be.html
