Requiem for a squirrel


The front garden was a mess. One of the peonies I had replanted was dug up, the carefully curving path of pea gravel distorted with lots of dirt and debris, and a dead squirrel pushed under a log. It looked like there had been quite ruckus. I buried the squirrel right where he died. I was surprised that he hadn’t rigor mortised, still pliable and floppy as I scooped him up with the shovel.

There was scat on what was left of the path too, larger than a cat’s. Probably the raccoons (see yesterday’s post). They do eat squirrel. Except they didn’t eat much of this one.

In googling squirrel predators, I read that squirrels can rotate their feet 180 degrees for a quick getaway. This squirrel’s getaway was a lot different than he expected. I think it’s safe to say, ours will be too.

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