On Squirrels
We hadn’t eaten in three days, being in the dead of a winter of very deep snow. But now at last we were chasing down a very promising meal– a heavy buck who wasn’t as fast as he thought he was. In moments Alfred and King, Blackie, Thunder, Lupo and Misty, and I would pull down that very tasty animal and feast as we, the primo pack of the North Woods, deserved.
And then we saw the squirrel.
Not just any squirrel, but the squirrel. It had been around all year, scolding and nattering from every tree-top. “Stupid wolves!,” it would chant, over and over. “I can climb, and you can’t! I eat well all year long, and you nearly starve! I rule, you drool! Na-na-na-na-na-nah!” From tree to tree, forest to forest, it would follow and torment us.
But today it would pay the price. Justice would be served. That blankety-blank squirrel had made a fatal mistake– it had ventured out in the deep snow, far from the protection of any tree! And we got it! Blackie sent it off to squirrel heaven with a wicked snap and shake.
She was about to devour it when a sharp growl from Lupo reminded her that any catch had to be shared. Each of us enjoyed an ounce or two of squirrel, which we downed with glee. There were many a wisecrack and chortle.
Meanwhile, of course, the big buck was in the next forest, well beyond our territory. His trail had grown cold.
We looked at each other, Alfred and King, Blackie, Thunder, Lupo and Misty, and I, and our tummies growled with hunger. It had been a rather small squirrel, after all, not even a decent appetizer. We were very, very, hungry.
But that’s a wolf story. Humans are far too clever to chase squirrels. Right?