There is a squirrel living in our catalpa tree, eight feet from the ground.
When Dad was here, we were doing some work on the front porch. I saw the squirrel tear around the corner of the house. It leapt up onto the catalpa tree, ran around the trunk a few times, then threw itself at the ground. It then bounced across the street.
The same squirrel loves running back and forth along our dogwood tree. It will pause when it sees us watching from the office, then start up again.
A few times I’ve heard it scamper along the edge of our roof. Up the dogwood, across the roof, down the maple it goes.
We were mowing our far too long grass (sorry, neighbors, thank you for not calling the city on us). Some blue chips came out of the mower.
“What’s that?” I asked Good Man.
He picked up a piece and examined it. “I have no idea. A strap?”
A few days later, our neighbor told us he saw our squirrel with a four-foot long piece of blue webbing. He said the squirrel was determined to get the webbing into its nest, but lost about two feet of it.
“That squirrel was so excited,” he said, “It was the happiest squirrel I’ve ever seen.”