A nice thing…

Maybe it has something to do with the one-eyed squirrel named Petey that the next door neighbor lady used to feed from her second story deck when I was a kid. Whatever it is, I’ve always loved squirrels. I realize they’re rodents, but that can’t be helped. I forgive them their ratty relatives.

Lately, one of the several grey squirrels who lives in the big butternut tree has become rather bold in its advances on my territory. Lured by the bird feeder hanging on the porch, it crawled from potted plant to potted plant outside my kitchen window.

One day, there it was when I opened the barn door, up on the rafter where the birdseed was stored. It scuttled along the beam, jumped to the floor, then stopped and turned as if waiting for instructions. I laughed and stomped my foot, and it turned, squeezing itself through the gap in the side door.

Later, eating my lunch outside, I was visited by the bold grey squirrel. It jumped up to my level and started to come towards me, and I felt that same thrill as when Petey came for his food all those years ago.

I wanted that Petey moment. That eye-to-eye. I wanted… What was it I wanted?

I think wanted him to like me.

A nice thing… that primal desire to connect with another peaceful creature.