Silly Squirrel Story

I belong to an MSN photography Group, the highest ranked one in the category. In this recent thread

(edit to add: link removed because it is no longer valid as MSN Groups were discontinued several years ago) is a pretty good shot of a squirrel that made me think of how my folks loved to watch the squirrels in their back yard, putting out peanuts and not even caring (too much) that the tree rodents cute, loveable creatures also ate their birdfeeder empty. I believe my big sister has problems with that and has tried all the gadgets/gimmicks to keep them out of her bird feeders.

It also reminded me of a friend of my dad's; they had a lovely, shady place right on the creek and the century old cottonwoods were full of squirrels. We were down there late one summer afternoon and our family friend was showing my pop how the squirrels would come when he called them. He took a nut from his shirt pocket and tapped on the tree, making some "tik-tik" sounding call.

Sure 'nuff, here came a squirrel from a hole in the trunk of the tree; this man backed up to the tree and the squirrel jumped to his shoulder and took the nut from his hand. I was about ten yrs. old or so, and I thought it was SOOOOOO cool looking, that squirrel sitting there munching away on the nut held between its two tiny paws. It ate the meat, cast away the bits of shell after it was done, then to my amazement, climbed face down into the guy's pocket and nabbed another nut! Again, it perched nonchalantly on his shoulder and ate.

"I got almost all of 'em like this 'un here." said dad's friend, and at the same time, rubbed his nose with his forefinger, making an audible inhaling "Sniff". It was an odd mannerism he had, one my dad always said prefaced a bald-faced lie.

I think there was some validity to my dad's theory- after all, most Texans, myself included, are known to sometimes stretch the truth...but maybe not THIS time, because the squirrel, apparently frightened by the sudden movement of the finger, PLUS the "sniff" (which, come to think of it, would be more like a backwards "snort") sound rewarded my dad's friend with a quick, hard bite on his earlobe, which then sprang off his shoulder and scampered back up the tree.

Let me tell you something and take it to heart: If I ever obeyed anything that my dad told me, it was to respect my elders, the "seen, not heard" type of child and not speak unless... yada yada yada. It's not a bad thing, and I don't resent it. I still try to respect my elders, but there's getting to be fewer and fewer of them.

The thing I remember most about this long ago scene is not the squirrel bite, nor our family friend's reaction, but my own. I KNEW I shouldn't laugh, but Lord help me, I was having trouble. I alternated between my face splitting open like a watermelon in the August sun and doing my best to show the proper amount of concern, lest I embarrass the adult. After all, the ear was bleeding "like a stuck hog" and blood was staining his shirt. I'm sure it hurt, but the expression on his face wasn't one of pain, but something like the shock of betrayal.

MY ears were hurting trying to hold back my grin. You know what I'm talking about, it's almost like a funky little earache, you know you can't laugh, it's like you get a small shot of helium gas in those lymph glands, the mumps ones, they start to tingle. It's a warning sign you're about to explode with laughter. You want to laugh SO bad. It's like when someone farts in church, y'know?

When my dad started laughing like an idiot, I figured it was safe for me to laugh, too.