I was in my treehouse, which is now in ruin, and houses multiple squirrels. Sadly, the squirrel family chewed my wallpaper and has accumulated a large pile of leaves. I tried befriending the one that didn’t make its getaway when I entered, but it growled at me!
This isn’t surprising, but I really would like to take my treehouse back and reclaim it as my own. “I built this!” I said to the disgruntled squirrel. It was partly true, I did help build it.
Squirrels don’t understand English, so of course it stayed put. They do, however, understand food. I slid a peanut across the ledge it was resting on. A peace offering. Still it didn’t budge, not even to eat the snack I offered.
The squirrel remained firmly seated on his little ledge. I had been planning on going up to my treehouse, on this gorgeous 56 degree January day, to journal my thoughts on this nice day. I never anticipated being party to a squirrel sit-in protest.
I was having a one sided conversation with the squirrel for about ten minutes. I at least had the illusion that I wasn’t just talking to myself. I felt a lot like Jane Goodall, patiently hanging around chimps in order to build trust. Maybe I was building the squirrels trust. It still hadn’t eaten the nut, but it stopped growling when I got near, and I was even able to pet its tail.
I started to feel as though the squirrel was actually petrified. He became as still as a statue, and didn’t react to me petting his tail. He was not dead, I knew that for certain.
I decided to stop bothering the squirrel because I started feeling bad. I descended the treehouse, leaving the squirrel family in peace, acquiescing to the squirrels silent plea. I will return when Spring finally arrives, and the squirrels will no longer require the warm shelter of my treehouse.