I first met him last week when he skittered through our back yard. I took particular notice for it has been a long time since we’ve had a squirrel visit. We used to have lots of bushy-tailed tree squirrels here in Crestline (actually so many, and they so invaded the bird feeders, that Jerry threatened to scatter them with a little birdshot, but I said, NO!) but during the few years that we lived in Lake Havasu all the squirrels disappeared. Bill said some kind of disease had wiped them out, but we have been thinking they would repopulate. So, when I saw the squirrel, I was excited. Turned out to be just a ground squirrel, although a really big, fat one, and sporting a rather fine tail.
He’s tame. I know he’s a he because, well, because he’s so adventurous and he is so feisty, and when I get close to him he wiggles his nose just like a rabbit. Something a little boy would do. He’s definitely a boy. And he’s definitely tame. He’s so tame I’m trying to teach him to respond when I call, Squirrel. “Your name is Squirrel,” I told him today as he stared at me with bright, little boy squirrel eyes.
He visited our living room today. (Told you he was tame.) Earlier, he had been in the garage, and I had said, “No, you stay out of the garage,” and he obeyed me and ran out and down the blue steps in the back, under which I believe he lives.
Bill must have a mound of acorns somewhere in his yard, for Squirrel runs up from our blue steps, across the yard to the fence between Bill’s yard and ours, squeezes through, and returns with an acorn in his mouth, which he deposits under the blue steps. I watched him do this several times, then set a chair close to the fence and snapped his picture, for I thought you might not believe me if I didn’t show you a picture.
I suppose I left the sliding door open in the back and that’s how he came to visit in the living room. “Jerry, Squirrel’s in here,” I warned.
“Well, get a broom and get him out of here.”
Squirrel ran to a guest bedroom, I trailed, broom in hand, and just stood while he checked out the area under the bed, then ran across the hall, through the study, and toward the back slider. “You can’t be in the house,” I told him. “You have to stay outside.” He understood and without too much fuss went out. I closed the door, and hear me, this is the truth: He did not leave the deck, but turned around to look at me as I stood with my hand on the closed door. He is adorable.
Earlier today he bounded up the front deck steps, cozzied down in a sunny area, and had a time of squirrel reflection, I guess, for he stayed there a long time, gazing off at the distant mountains. A couple of hours ago as I sat here on the couch, I saw movement on the front deck, and watched as he scampered to the glass, reached up, and standing on two feet peered into the living room! He didn’t stay long enough for me to get my camera, but I did snap him hanging out under one of our tables just a few feet away. I think he wanted me to open the slider.
Wonder how he would take to a leash? Then I could take him for a walk around the lake. Cool, except that given his nature, I think he might not be too fond of being leased. Keep you posted.