Dropping the Ball

In plain sight, the squirrel drops the ball – I mean the green apple – it had grabbed from my very old Golden Delicious apple tree in the back, some fifty yards away. The squealing voices of Nicky, Laura, and me – standing just ten feet away on the front stairs – scare and/or perhaps surprise the youngster as it skillfully scurries on top of the narrow uneven fence. The big, still unripe apple falls… I notice a split second of frustration and hesitation in the squirrel’s movement, a temptation to get down and fetch it again. It had schlepped it a long way. But by now we are laughing and howling even louder in three different octaves. Surprise, delight, amazement – amusement... And in my case, a bit of Schadenfreude. See, what happens when stealing green apples?! Hurriedly the squirrel scrambles away. And now, I feel just a tiny bit sorry for its mishap.

I am so used to the sight of squirrels carrying unripe apples somewhere else, to hide or to nibble on and abandon after just one or two bites. Whenever I catch them in the act, I chase them with loud, scolding exclamations, jumping and running after them. It’s a dance they are kind of used to with me. But in this incident in the front, it is three of us squealing, and the creature is tripped up. Throughout the morning of garden work, we remind each other of the comic squirrel encounter, laughing all over again… And later in the afternoon and evening, now alone, I am still chuckling… four creatures engaged in a slapstick act :)