An English In Kentucky


















August 3rd  2011    Tim Candler

    Don't know what it is about Grey Squirrels, but I have a deep suspicion of them.  Give me a Fox Squirrel, with the red in his fine tail and a smile in his eye.

    Often there is a Fox Squirrel rummaging around in the barn, as I often do.  And often I know what it is I am looking for.  But with a Fox Squirrel, I can never quite tell what he thinks he is doing, because he is also vague and forgetful. So sometimes we just stare at each other in a hopeless confusion.

      This time, across where metal things with potential are stored, the scurry and rattle was such that my heart retreated because I thought it a stranger.  It was a level of activity Fox Squirrels who I know rarely achieve unless moved by an anxiety of holy proportion.

       Then something with a fluffy tail leapt from a high beam, flew a while and fell four feet on the ground, before racing toward the hedgerow.   It was acrobatic and wonderful movement, and it was very, very quick.  And then I thought "that's a Grey Squirrel."

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