The Old Squirrel

It was a beautiful day at the end of May. I was hiking in one of my favourite places, the Rouge Park. A little way off the main trail there is a pond likely created by a beaver dam. It is a place with many old dead trees standing like grave stones in and around the water's edge. The atmosphere, even on a sunny day is a little creepy.

I pushed through some brush as I made my way toward the water. Despite the dead trees, the place was full of life. Red winged blackbirds flew from brittle branch to brittle branch.

An owl chased by smaller birds fled into the forest.

On the ground were many fallen trees. On a log directly in front of me sat a small black creature. I stopped.

This thing just sat there looking at me. I didn't know what it was at first. It had the head of a squirrel but a thin body with very little hair. It turns out it was a squirrel. I realized this when it flashed its tail. A tail with only a few hairs left on it.

It was an old half starved critter. It didn't run and scurry up a tree as most squirrels would. It let me get quite close. In fact when I got too close it just walked of the log and moved behind a stump.

This little animal touched me somehow. I couldn't help but wonder what its life had been like. I'm sure at one point it was a lively young squirrel jumping from tree to tree, chasing other squirrels and having as much fun as squirrels can have. Now it was a skinny little thing, alone on the edge of a swamp. The neat thing is that it was old and still alive. It is rare in nature for any animal to die of old age. If this old squirrel could last a little longer perhaps it would die of old age. Whatever happens, I have a feeling that I will not see this squirrel again. And that is a little sad.