photo #1610891

Ohhhhh, life in the country. I went outside to enjoy my 1700 beverage yesterday, sat in my chair, and immediately heard a discussion between George and Throckmorton. Throck, as we call him, is the sassy young upstart in the squirrel community 'round here. Something's always got him in a tizzy, and it seemed George was trying to give him some "longevity logic" about the world. George was attempting to convince him that when outside influences get you riled up, they own you body and soul, which increases stress and results in shorter life. Throck tried to rile George up with some of his immature "logic". He pointed out that in the lower part of our property, where the crick flows, there's bunches of Red and Fox squirrels running everywhere, and always making noise. George and the rest of the Gray squirrels just ignored them, which Throck likened to fear and cowardice. George asked him where he got his info, and he said everybody knew it. George just laughed, knowing this was going to be easy, because the person with a theory never wins over one who has experience. He sat back, and taught the upstart a life lesson. Seems that years ago, ALL the squirrels talked. The Gray squirrels preferred the higher ground for their nesting, and weren't picky about taking a trip to the crick to take a drink. The Red and Fox squirrels were happier down there, away from the snakes most of the time. There were more of them, which required rules and regulations that kept the noise down, and limited the fighting. It required a "police force" and a judge, along with a community committee. Since they had to spend so much time running things, the community had to pay "tribute" in the form of nuts and other food to them. The Grays were fine without any of it, and lived their own lives bereft of the "overlords". Then, the BIG clash hit, when the mob from the crick tried to annex the upper areas, and make the Grays subject to their rules and regulations that obviously wouldn't work up there. When they attempted to enforce their society on them, the Grays pelted them with green spikey pinecones, and created such noise they fled. Thereafter, they lived on the property autonomously, without either side forcing the other's hand. Even when the snakes tried to whip it up again, it was ignored. Now, both sides lived in peace, because they didn't want anybody else to control their thoughts, or create pandemonium where it didn't exist. The ones who preferred to live in the overpopulated crick area did their own thing, and the rural ones who preferred the higher trees enjoyed their solitude. Without allowing others to manipulate them, things went on through the years. Everytime Throck tried to object, George would simply ask him who owned his head. He kept it up until Throck just trotted off, mad as heck. George chuckled, and came over for his bowl of applejack. The joke was, it was cherryjack today. George looked up, said it was tasty, but seemed weak. I didn't have the heart to tell him. It was actually about 20% stronger. George tanked like it was water. I asked him who owned HIS head sometimes. He snapped up, looked at me, and stared. I think it was hitting him hard by now, because one eye was half closed. I've told y'all he can be a mean drunk, and figured it was about to come out. Instead, he looked at me calmly, and said "mostly you". He chuckled then, knowing he'd got me if I answered. I wouldn't let him win. I watched him stagger off, and hoped he wouldn't try and climb his tree anytime soon. Dang squirrel got me after all !