The Bottom of it All
Posted: December 17th, 2004, 2:15 pm
My barren wife is still the consumate mother. Strays of every variety look to her for handouts and tenderness. The stream of strays will be endless, I fear. She even builds frog houses. They all get names.
She hung a bird feeder on the Colorado Ash out front. It hangs by little chains. It's the flat, open variety with a screen on the bottom. Birds love it and so does Roof Rat, the squirrel.
There is no way to gracefully enter the feeder unless you can fly. Roof Rat gets into the feeder with a little hop. He's quite practiced at this manoeuvre. He places his feet "just so" and takes his leap of faith so he can reap his just rewards.
Yesterday, I raked up the accumulated, fallen leaves that the ash had finally produced. I left the pile under the tree to pick up and bag this morning.
It happens here occasionally - a freeze. At sun up, I walked out onto the front porch, lit a smoke and watched the sunrise. The houses across the street all had a slight ice-dusty look on their rooftops, a tangible evidence of the season.
Roof Rat and I have an easy truce. I don't bother him, he ignores me. He comes to feast early and there he was, "in position," ready to make his leap. I like to catch him at it. I'm easily entertained.
And leap he did. He missed - lost his footing on the ice crust that had formed on the tree during the night. I was stunned. A small crested wave of leaves erupted as a result of his fall into my hard work yesterday. My heart stopped, my breathe caught and my Pall Mall slipped from my fingers.
I had flashes of gloves and veterinary offices and sirens and tickets and then he popped his little head up. While I was still recovering, he scampered back up the truck and repeated the entire performance. And repeated it a third. And a fourth. He goes up higher on the fifth take and even higher on the sixth. Finally, he's up to the third bough (about fifteen feet) and he leaps again into the pile.
I finally came out of my freeze. It struck me very hard that he was loving it. I know this because my knees buckled and I rolled off the porch onto the ground with laughter.
I don't know what went on in his mind, what connections were made or discarded but he must have had some idea about my behavior. His last leap was from the twenty foot bough and he did a summersault with a twist. He popped his head up, chattered at me and scampered off with his tail high and proud.
My wife asked me later what it was like outside. I told her she'd better ask Roof Rat, he had a better handle on today than I did.
She hung a bird feeder on the Colorado Ash out front. It hangs by little chains. It's the flat, open variety with a screen on the bottom. Birds love it and so does Roof Rat, the squirrel.
There is no way to gracefully enter the feeder unless you can fly. Roof Rat gets into the feeder with a little hop. He's quite practiced at this manoeuvre. He places his feet "just so" and takes his leap of faith so he can reap his just rewards.
Yesterday, I raked up the accumulated, fallen leaves that the ash had finally produced. I left the pile under the tree to pick up and bag this morning.
It happens here occasionally - a freeze. At sun up, I walked out onto the front porch, lit a smoke and watched the sunrise. The houses across the street all had a slight ice-dusty look on their rooftops, a tangible evidence of the season.
Roof Rat and I have an easy truce. I don't bother him, he ignores me. He comes to feast early and there he was, "in position," ready to make his leap. I like to catch him at it. I'm easily entertained.
And leap he did. He missed - lost his footing on the ice crust that had formed on the tree during the night. I was stunned. A small crested wave of leaves erupted as a result of his fall into my hard work yesterday. My heart stopped, my breathe caught and my Pall Mall slipped from my fingers.
I had flashes of gloves and veterinary offices and sirens and tickets and then he popped his little head up. While I was still recovering, he scampered back up the truck and repeated the entire performance. And repeated it a third. And a fourth. He goes up higher on the fifth take and even higher on the sixth. Finally, he's up to the third bough (about fifteen feet) and he leaps again into the pile.
I finally came out of my freeze. It struck me very hard that he was loving it. I know this because my knees buckled and I rolled off the porch onto the ground with laughter.
I don't know what went on in his mind, what connections were made or discarded but he must have had some idea about my behavior. His last leap was from the twenty foot bough and he did a summersault with a twist. He popped his head up, chattered at me and scampered off with his tail high and proud.
My wife asked me later what it was like outside. I told her she'd better ask Roof Rat, he had a better handle on today than I did.
