a winter’s drey….

a winter's drey....

{Okay, I try not to use punny titles, but apparently I couldn’t help myself tonight. Ah, well. I was pondering the other day how vastly entertaining we humans tend to find it when small mammals do *anything* that is not walking or running. To illustrate the point to myself — because apparently I need convincing even of my own ideas — I watched a squirrel and tried to picture someone saying “oh, how cute!” to everything it did in a span of a minute or so. Sure enough, it all sounded completely plausible. Oh, how cute — it’s sitting down! It’s eating! It set the food down! It picked up some leaves! It’s carrying the leaves! It set down the leaves! How precious, I want one! I can only wonder if we are similarly adorable to some species. I do often feel as if crows are laughing at me … but I always just assumed that was because they can fly. Anyway, the squirrel here, just out of Shetland’s reach, would no doubt look adorable as well, despite the fact that it is almost certainly hurling leaf-muffled verbal abuse at anyone within hearing range, and its language is highly unlikely to be suitable for young squirrel ears. I have never been cursed at by any animal more often than I have by squirrels; sometimes with such vehemence and at such close proximity that I have, in fact, retreated to an area of greater perceived safety. They are the uncontested lords and ladies of the treetops in residential areas, and they know it well.}


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