Sometimes you just need to escape reality and let your imagination take over, let the stresses and strains of this life give way to the simplicity of another. So I hear you say, where do you go to let your creative juices flow and your crazy brain take over? I pop along to the Botanic Gardens, take a seat on my favourite bench, and chat to the squirrels. But squirrels can't talk, I hear you reply, no doubt questioning my sanity. Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I know different ........ Sammy is no ordinary squirrel. Watching for my arrival, he appears in his tam o'shanter and his knitted tartan scarf, sits on the bench beside me, and chats away nineteen to the dozen. With his bushy grey tail, silvery grey fur with a brown tinge along the middle of his back, and his sometimes not-so-white underparts, Sammy is an appealing little chap, amusingly entertaining, always busying himself with one chore or another, yet always able to pass the time of day, if only briefly on occasions. It is said that squirrels communicate mainly through their tails, which twitch if they are uneasy or suspicious. But not Sammy. He appears to have mastered the English language quite adequately, albeit with a Scottish accent, but he is very shy and can be heard only by those who believe. Eager to chat away about his family, he told me recently about the wonderful Christmas lunch he shared with Mrs Squirrel. Vegetarian of course, they indulged in fungi stuffed with acorns and hazelnuts, served with a pine cone puree, and followed by a tree bark tart sprinkled with winter flowers. A veritable feast for the squirrels, washed down with a vintage rainwater elderflower wine. Sqirrels are hoarders, and my friend Sammy is certainly no exception. However, burying food to provide for the long winter months, when supplies are scarce, can be a problem. Despite a strong sense of smell, poor Sammy often falls victim to the common cold, an unfortunate consequence of his close contact with the humans that forever invade his habitat, tossing nuts and flashing cameras in his direction. This, coupled with a memory not as sharp as it once was, will at times result in him frantically digging up half the Gardens to locate his own personal storecupboard. Last time we had a chat poor Sammy hardly had time to catch his breath before he was off again in search of moss and feathers to line the nursery. The winter months had taken their toll on his drey, and with the patter of tiny feet due at any time, Mrs Squirrel was eager to have everything spick and span ready for the new arrivals. I must pop back soon to see how it all went, and take some tiny scarves for the babies. With more snow forecast I am sure they will be more than welcome. So do you believe I can talk to the squirrels? I guess only I know for sure, but will keep you all updated with further adventures of Sammy the Squirrel. So watch this space ...........
Sometimes you just need to escape reality and let your imagination take over, let the stresses and strains of this life give way to the simplicity of another. So I hear you say, where do you go to let your creative juices flow and your crazy brain take over? I pop along to the Botanic Gardens, take a seat on my favourite bench, and chat to the squirrels. But squirrels can't talk, I hear you reply, no doubt questioning my sanity. Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I know different ........ Sammy is no ordinary squirrel. Watching for my arrival, he appears in his tam o'shanter and his knitted tartan scarf, sits on the bench beside me, and chats away nineteen to the dozen. With his bushy grey tail, silvery grey fur with a brown tinge along the middle of his back, and his sometimes not-so-white underparts, Sammy is an appealing little chap, amusingly entertaining, always busying himself with one chore or another, yet always able to pass the time of day, if only briefly on occasions. It is said that squirrels communicate mainly through their tails, which twitch if they are uneasy or suspicious. But not Sammy. He appears to have mastered the English language quite adequately, albeit with a Scottish accent, but he is very shy and can be heard only by those who believe. Eager to chat away about his family, he told me recently about the wonderful Christmas lunch he shared with Mrs Squirrel. Vegetarian of course, they indulged in fungi stuffed with acorns and hazelnuts, served with a pine cone puree, and followed by a tree bark tart sprinkled with winter flowers. A veritable feast for the squirrels, washed down with a vintage rainwater elderflower wine. Sqirrels are hoarders, and my friend Sammy is certainly no exception. However, burying food to provide for the long winter months, when supplies are scarce, can be a problem. Despite a strong sense of smell, poor Sammy often falls victim to the common cold, an unfortunate consequence of his close contact with the humans that forever invade his habitat, tossing nuts and flashing cameras in his direction. This, coupled with a memory not as sharp as it once was, will at times result in him frantically digging up half the Gardens to locate his own personal storecupboard. Last time we had a chat poor Sammy hardly had time to catch his breath before he was off again in search of moss and feathers to line the nursery. The winter months had taken their toll on his drey, and with the patter of tiny feet due at any time, Mrs Squirrel was eager to have everything spick and span ready for the new arrivals. I must pop back soon to see how it all went, and take some tiny scarves for the babies. With more snow forecast I am sure they will be more than welcome. So do you believe I can talk to the squirrels? I guess only I know for sure, but will keep you all updated with further adventures of Sammy the Squirrel. So watch this space ...........
I believe!!! Squirrels are such wonderful creatures, although I am glad Sammy never met my Nan! she hated them with total contempt, mainly as they kept trying to steal all the bird food and birds were her passion!
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