Recently I attended the Artists’ Road Trip (ART) at Fort Defiance where I saw a beautiful painting entitled, Study in Red. I’m extremely envious of the talent of painters, sculptors, and potters because I have none. But if I did, I’d create a painting on squirrels and name it Study in Squirrel. I like squirrels, probably because two common adjectives to describe me are: squirrely and nutty. There would be two types of squirrels in my painting: a cute, bushy-tailed, Warner-Brothers cartoon-type and a chittering, evil-eyed, Stephen King-type. My Study in Squirrel would need depth and detail so I would give each one a name and personality traits. We’ll call the former type, Sunny, and the latter type, Sprite. I could paint each one just by looking out my windows, if I could paint of course, because both types live around our house amongst the Oak and Walnut trees. Our yard is what you might call, Squirrel Central Station.
Like any artist, I would need to complete an in-depth study of my subjects. Let’s look first at the behaviors of Sunny. One day while standing at my kitchen sink overlooking our backyard, I saw this squirrel slip down the slide of my daughters’ swing set. Thinking he must’ve lost his balance, I stood to make sure he was okay. When he reached the bottom, however, he scampered around the sandbox, climbed up the ladder, and did it again. Sunny was playing. Oh, how cute. The Sunny’s of our yard are always flitting about, flirtatiously flipping their tales. Their hard work is admirable, which is why I don’t have the heart to remove the ever-growing pile of walnuts that they’ve begun storing in our back shed. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Sunny starve this winter.
Now let’s look at the behaviors of Sprite. Several years ago we had a beautiful patio set with padded chairs. Notice I said, “had.” One day while mowing I noticed white batting strewn on the ground. Wondering and wandering the yard to determine its origin, I ended up on the deck, watching a squirrel gnaw her way through the seams of a patio chair pillow using little, T-Rex claws to remove the stuffing. We paid good money for those chairs so I chased her away. As she leapt to the safety of a nearby Oak, she turned on the branch, shook her fist at me, and screeched as if I had offended her. Oh, how rude. It’s Sprite who delights in terrorizing our Shih-Tzu, Kea, who darts from window to window atop the backs of the furniture in pseudo-pursuit of her prey. I realize Sprite is probably a manifestation of the bad Karma I accumulated as a result of shooting at a squirrel’s nest the one-and-only time I pheasant hunted with my brother 20 years ago.
Now, dear Reader, don’t try to put more into this moment of observation than is intended. Yes, I used the male pronoun for Sunny the sweet squirrel and the female pronoun for Sprite the sassy squirrel, but I was making no references to gender roles or political parties. I meant no offense to sun lovers or soda pop manufacturers. I intended no slights to animal lovers or haters. In fact, the sign for squirrel in American Sign Language (ASL) is one of my favorites. I use it each time I encounter a Sunny or a Sprite. Start by making the peace sign with both hands then turn your hands in to face each other. Curve your fingers, bring your hands together and tap your fingers together. Maybe this means something offensive in squirrel tongue and that’s why they torment me. I want to point out that no squirrels were harmed in the writing of this Study in Squirrel, but I would like to thank the city street employee who scooped up the splatted squirrel at the end of our driveway. Not sure if it was a Sunny or a Sprite.
Like any artist, I would need to complete an in-depth study of my subjects. Let’s look first at the behaviors of Sunny. One day while standing at my kitchen sink overlooking our backyard, I saw this squirrel slip down the slide of my daughters’ swing set. Thinking he must’ve lost his balance, I stood to make sure he was okay. When he reached the bottom, however, he scampered around the sandbox, climbed up the ladder, and did it again. Sunny was playing. Oh, how cute. The Sunny’s of our yard are always flitting about, flirtatiously flipping their tales. Their hard work is admirable, which is why I don’t have the heart to remove the ever-growing pile of walnuts that they’ve begun storing in our back shed. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Sunny starve this winter.
Now let’s look at the behaviors of Sprite. Several years ago we had a beautiful patio set with padded chairs. Notice I said, “had.” One day while mowing I noticed white batting strewn on the ground. Wondering and wandering the yard to determine its origin, I ended up on the deck, watching a squirrel gnaw her way through the seams of a patio chair pillow using little, T-Rex claws to remove the stuffing. We paid good money for those chairs so I chased her away. As she leapt to the safety of a nearby Oak, she turned on the branch, shook her fist at me, and screeched as if I had offended her. Oh, how rude. It’s Sprite who delights in terrorizing our Shih-Tzu, Kea, who darts from window to window atop the backs of the furniture in pseudo-pursuit of her prey. I realize Sprite is probably a manifestation of the bad Karma I accumulated as a result of shooting at a squirrel’s nest the one-and-only time I pheasant hunted with my brother 20 years ago.
Now, dear Reader, don’t try to put more into this moment of observation than is intended. Yes, I used the male pronoun for Sunny the sweet squirrel and the female pronoun for Sprite the sassy squirrel, but I was making no references to gender roles or political parties. I meant no offense to sun lovers or soda pop manufacturers. I intended no slights to animal lovers or haters. In fact, the sign for squirrel in American Sign Language (ASL) is one of my favorites. I use it each time I encounter a Sunny or a Sprite. Start by making the peace sign with both hands then turn your hands in to face each other. Curve your fingers, bring your hands together and tap your fingers together. Maybe this means something offensive in squirrel tongue and that’s why they torment me. I want to point out that no squirrels were harmed in the writing of this Study in Squirrel, but I would like to thank the city street employee who scooped up the splatted squirrel at the end of our driveway. Not sure if it was a Sunny or a Sprite.
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