My partner and I were walking down the lakefront path with a furry friend, a large, athletic dog. Bright, summer day. The path alive with various kinds of people & dogs and modes of transportation: bicycles, roller-blades, scooters, skateboards. Furious, vigorous, summer activity.
We came to a curve in the path, under an enormous, looming tree; in the middle of the path, there was a tiny little baby black squirrel, sitting there, kind of helpless, maybe stunned, not injured, but crawling slowly, tentatively, totally exposed to the elements.
Our first thought: imminent danger. This little creature could be easily crushed, or eaten, or stomped on. I knelt down and scooped him up. I held him in my open hands. He was silent, soft, not moving or struggling, seemingly content to be in my care.
I carried him over to the tall grass at the base of the tree. Our furry friend was pulling on the leash, eyeing that the little baby creature as a tasty morsel, or a new plaything. Blood, tooth, claw. We turned from the possible bloody murder, to thoughts of care, life and renewal. My partner and I thought: "Maybe his mama is nearby?" We surmised that he had fallen out of the tree, maybe his nest was up there in the branches, maybe his brothers and sisters and his mama were looking down wondering what's next?!
At least that was our train of thought. On safer ground now, the little baby squirrel crawled to my black boot, and tried to climb on it. Maybe he was thinking that blackness was a friend or a safe harbor? I had a brief mad idea, what if we adopted him, raised him at our little sanctuary home? Maybe we'd be best buddies for life? A cooler, more rational thought prevailed. We put him back on the grass, left him there, and went down the path, hoping for the best for that little buddy.
Later, after a long rambling walk, on the way back, we stopped at the base of the tree to see if there was any sign of our little buddy, or any possible mayhem. Everything was peaceful, quiet and green. We did see an adult squirrel gripping the trunk of another tree, a few yards away, seemingly looking at us. We decided that was a good sign.
We decided that, yes, that must be the mama. The little baby was most assuredly happily reunited with his family. Safe and sound. We really wanted this to be a happy story with a happy ending. So yes, for sure, we think he made it. That's right. Give him a few short weeks, and well, he's gonna grow up to be a fully capable little creature, he's definitely destined for a great, fulfilling life of romping around the park climbing trees, eating nuts and berries. For sure. At least that's the story we imagine.Yes. Indeed. A happy story, a happy ending.