Our neighborhood has an abundance of squirrels. Even though we have a small yard, they constantly amuse us by climbing the trees, running along the tops of fences, hunting and burying nuts and berries, and even visiting our porch.
We have never had any problems with their destructive nature that we have heard others speak of. Our next door neighbors had squirrels eating their exterior woodwork and living in their attic. My husband says you must be kind to them, and they won’t bother you. “Be one with the squirrels!” he advises.
Today I saw the remains of one that didn’t make it across the street at the front of our neighborhood. It was like seeing someone’s pet lying there, and it made me sad.
Thankfully it wasn’t the white squirrel that has called our neighborhood home for years. They are quite rare, or so we have been told by visitors who can’t believe what they are seeing and research them when they go home. It is always exciting to see him (or her) out and about – but hard to get a clear picture of. He is fast. I guess that’s why he has been around for so long.
As a teacher I used this fun poem for years at this time of year:
Up he goes
To the tree top!
Round and round,
Down he scampers
To the ground.
What a tail!
Tall as a feather
Broad as a sail!
Where’s his supper?
In the shell,
Out it fell.
I can’t wait to teach it to my granddaughter, Madison. She is already interested in looking for the wildlife that abounds at her home, joined in the search by their beagle Belle.