This blog is about a squirrel.

I fumed over my misfortune as I wondered around campus. I sat on a brick wall that lines a major corridor between campus buildings. I people-watched, as I am oft to do (and can justify with my profession rather than a creepy personality). Guitars strummed in my ears to the tempo of all those pedestrian feet. The Softest Voice by Animal Collective seemed to guide their steps, slow and then faster; purposeful but meandering, as if on clouds, to harps.

Not ten feet away, a plain brown squirrel bounded up from the lawn behind the wall and stared me down. It watched me with cool black eyes. I was close enough to see the gradient in its mahogany fur and each separate spring-like claw, spread eagle, intrigued but not yet trusting. We stared at one another for three minutes. I nearly spoke. I slid my hand it's direction, knuckles scraping the porous surface of the wall. It did not move.

I looked around, stunned at the scene. No one was watching, everyone gliding through the music. I offered a hand to this most skittish of creatures. Campus squirrels are usually a tamer variety than city squirrels, but they are not friendly.

Cautious still, but with eyes as curious as my own, it stepped forward, one foot at a time until it stood a foot from my hand.

"It's okay." In my softest voice.

It leapt back ten feet in one backward stride, and I sucked my hand back to my lap. It stood still, beaming at me, checking the overreaction. Tentative, I slid my hand out again. And step by considerate step, it closed in.

The tip of its nose touched the longest of my fingers for one loud second. I averted my eyes. Nobody else could see the feat. It watched me watching it watching me.

"Thanks." In my softest voice.

and it scurried away.

-Mike