The small squirrel emits a loud chattering, disproportionate to its size.  I glance up and spot it peering out of a cluster of dead-looking pine needles.  A few feet away hovers a green hummingbird, the object of the squirrel’s displeasure.  The squirrel pulls back into the needles; the hummingbird zooms around and higher, perching on a branch, an unmoving contrast to its normal frenetic motion.  A small grey bird takes up a position at the bottom of the tree.

Minutes pass.  If I hadn’t already seen the tiny green bird, I’d never spot his motionless body.  The sound of the wind sweeps across the valley; the sound of waves transmuted into air.  The trees sway in their wind-driven dance.  The squirrel scampers down the tree, the hummingbird shadowing its every move until the squirrel leaps onto the rail.  The hummingbird, job ended, flies off.  The grey bird remains, a sentinel of some sort.

Comments
  1. bigdogzola says:

    Ooooooo….squirrel!

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