An Ode to City Squirrels #OurAuthorGang

 Thoughts about city squirrels by David W. Thompson

This won’t be my usual blog post. It may even touch on some of those conversations your parents warned you to avoid in polite company. You know the ones… you’ve been warned.

I feel blessed to have been born and to reside in a rural area. The pace is less hurried and harried. Fellow residents are more than neighbors. They become friends. With experiences and interests in common, I seldom meet strangers—even if I never met them before.

But whereas my city-situated friends expound on the virtues of life in their hectic world, the shows and shops, etcetera …the great outdoors beckon me mere steps from my backyard. I’ll give them credit for their postage stamp parks. Several acres of venerable oaks and maples populated by emasculated squirrels that prostitute their wildness for a kernel of corn. Who can blame them? The crush of humanity has deprived them of their natural environs. The lack of natural predators emboldens them against humans to the point of arrogance. They are adrift in a world alien to their species and birthright. They’ve forgotten what they are and where they belong. I empathize with my tree rodent brethren. They must feel as I do when crowded interstates lead me to seek their small calming acreage for sanity and relief.

There is peace in the countryside unknown to those who fight over cabs and queue up to sell pieces of their souls to buy life’s necessities. The hope of a few moments of tranquility in their crowded, high-dollar cubbyholes drives them on. Then, troubled sleep and start anew— Thoreau’s life of quiet desperation. (The squirrels understand.) The outdoors provides a sense of oneness with our world. It develops self-reliance and reunites us with our spark of divinity.

Did you ever feel the pull of taut muscles as your paddle dips down to drive your kayak through pristine waters? Or see life and death played out before you as predator and prey act out their eternal drama?  Ever wander aimlessly down a forested trail, experiencing the awe of the panoramic views waiting around each turn? It inspires empathy with the first people to ever walk there.

This world holds beauty so rich and intense that it tears mortal eyes.  After witnessing such things, I cannot fathom disbelief in a higher being, a creator, or a great spirit. You choose. Although we pray in embellished churches, I believe my God lives in the forests, meadows, valleys, and mountains of creation. But I’ll leave the philosophical dissertations to wiser folk.

I hope you will pardon my meanderings, but I offer two explanations to qualify my beliefs. One, I was tainted (?) by Walden’s Pond at a very young age, and I never recovered. I’m unaware of any twelve-step programs to cure this, and I wouldn’t be interested anyway. Two, I am a country boy born and bred (who likes squirrels!).

Until my next post, I hope to see you on a seldom-trod mountain trail or floating an unblemished stretch of river on your way to Nirvana. Best of all things to you and yours. 

David W. Thompson

https://www.david-w-thompson.com

David is a multiple award-winning author, Army veteran, and graduate of UMUC. He’s a multi-genre writer and a member of the Horror Writers’ Association, and the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. When not writing, Dave enjoys family, kayaking, fishing, hiking, hunting, winemaking, and woodcarving.