Squirrel story ~~ The first summer I lived here, before there was a house, I was living in my craft booth with blue Costco tarps clipped to the frame. I was clearing my glade, setting up stakes and strings, and beginning the digging of the holes for the pieces of telephone poles on which my house would set. I had acquired a wonderful pair of buttery soft, yellow, deerskin work gloves. At night, these were generally laid on my table.

One morning, I noticed some critter was munching on the palms (I know the wild things like the salt from sweat) and resolved to bring them into the "tent" with me that night. I assumed it was the deer mice, with whom I'd already made acquaintance.. (Lovely critters in their own right: white tummies, big black button eyes, and a lovely warm red-brown color.) A bit later, after some work, I was resting, drinking a cup of coffee, hoping that perhaps the blue Huron would show up, and had laid my gloves on the back of the other chair. After a while, I became aware the joint was being cased. I small red squirrel, known locally as fairydiddles, was circling and circling, closer with each swing. I stilled my self into perfect silence to watch. Finally, close enough, he leaped onto the seat of the chair, then the back, and then reached longingly, I swear, for the butter yellow gloves. . . .

At which point, I said: Hey, you, leave my gloves alone. He looked up, amazed? Surprised? Startled? Any of the foregoing. And a look that said, I swear: Jeeze, don't tell my Mom I forgot to notice you! And with a bound, was gone. (And I slept with the gloves under my pillow.)