Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Tag Archives: Squirrels

All I did

was walk out the door.

Honestly!  The uproar in my driveway yesterday!

I just wanted to get the mail.

I walked out the side door and before I left the shelter of the carport, two rather large-sized doves took off from the driveway with much fluttering and flapping of wings and cheeps and squawks of panic such that you’d have thought I’d flung a cat into their midst.  At the same time, one of the dang squirrels came around the corner, pulled a cartoon skid to a stop (hard to do on a bed of river rocks) and reversed course in a mad rush to escape that startled me just as much as I’d startled him.

(The squirrels, by the way, are no longer to be known in this blog as “the squirrels.”  From here on out, they are always to be referred to as “the dang squirrels”—and, when especially irritating, as “those dang squirrels.”)

It seemed  like a lot of unnecessary commotion for a simple trip to the mailbox.

Life is like that sometimes.

You set out in all innocence to achieve something of no great moment only to find everyone around you inexplicably horrified and upset by your (to you) harmless actions.

It’s worth remembering, I guess, that there are probably always doves and dang squirrels along the way—whatever you’re trying to do.  And their reaction may seem silly to you, but it seems life and death to them.

And it’s also worth remembering—if you happen to be the one squeaking and squawking when the monster is coming up behind you—that maybe she just wants to get the mail.

How can I know what I think

until I see what I say?
~ E. M. Forster

That’s what I’m wondering today—it is Wondering Wednesday, after all—as I’m casting about for a specific topic.  Basically, I’m wondering what I’m going to write.  (This is a regular phenomenon since I took up blogging.)

It’s not that there is not a lot about which to wonder.  Surely, there is something I think and about which I would want to communicate amongst all the mysteries at hand.  Look at the state of our politics here in the United States, for example.  Now, there’s something—a lot of somethings—to provoke wonder.  But we don’t have a day of the week whose name begins with the letter ‘R,’ so you are all spared a regular Rant Day.  I have promised myself the blog will be positive—mostly—so, you know, politics. . .off limits.

I wonder about the future.  Do I need to figure out what’s next in my life, or will the Mayans solve that problem for me?

I wonder if I’m ever going to write another play, or have I inadvertently retired?  (Or, is it a moot point—see Mayans.)

I wonder what I should do next in renovating my house.  Is it time for a kitchen makeover?  Wouldn’t we like to have a bathtub?  And does that mean the entire bathroom needs a makeover?  What comes first in the rest of the house—the carpet or the windows?  Will I ever have furniture?

I wonder who bought the house next door and if they will be good neighbors.

I wonder why the coots haven’t yet returned from Capistrano—or wherever they go in the summer.

I wonder if anything, anything at all, will persuade the squirrels not to hang like bats, head downward, clinging to the coquina and if I will ever get used to an upside-down furry tree rat hanging head high over my front door.

Lastly, I wonder which of these and many other questions will be addressed in next week’s Wondering Wednesday post.

‘Cause this one’s done.

 

The limits of learned behavior

Don’t be a squirrel

Why is it that squirrels can outwit every mechanism to protect a birdfeeder devised by man… (Don’t believe that?  Watch this.)…but persist in waiting until just the last minute to run across the road in front of a car?

I refuse to believe the Geico ad that suggests it is purposeful mischief.  (Word is the gecko’s union is contemplating a job action over the use of unorganized squirrel labor in this commercial.  When the inflatable rat goes up at the next camera location, the menagerie  will be complete.)

Apparently, there are limits to a squirrel’s ingenuity.  Those crafty little brains haven’t learned to judge speed and direction of a moving vehicle–or that there are consequences for misjudging it.  Dire consequences.  I guess they hear the engine or feel the vibration, and the alarm bell goes off in their heads.  So, they dash right out into danger.

They don’t learn from their mistakes, I suppose, because the mistake is fatal.  Maybe their companions learn.  There are always companions.  Like sorrows, squirrels ‘come not single spies but in battalions.*  Maybe the companions learn, but I doubt it.  The next time Buddy Squirrel hears a car coming he probably doesn’t think,  “Uh-oh, better not run across the road!  Remember what happened to Chester!”

I guess he could.  One squirrel looks much like another to me, so maybe Buddy runs the other way.  However, there are always squirrels dashing across the street in front of my car, and I am always hitting the brakes, so I don’t think they are grasping the concept.

The running is a survival mechanism.  It stands them in good stead most of the time.  It’s just not working for them in traffic.

Today, I am wondering what survival mechanism aren’t working for me, anymore.  What learned behaviors–learned so early that I think they are just part of my personality–are getting in the way of my success?

I’ll tell you one that most women of my age–and maybe any age–have to fight against.  The ‘Be a Good Girl and You Will Be Rewarded’ myth.  Tricky, that.  Because certain aspects of “being a good girl” are helpful.  It’s not always bad to be polite, to be accommodating, to use gentleness instead of force.

Sometimes, it’s not enough, though.

Sometimes, you have to have another club in your bag.  And sometimes you have to club somebody with it.

Metaphorically speaking.  Do not run out and hit anybody with a 5 iron!

I’m not advocating violence–or non-violence.  I’m just saying, if you’re not making the progress you want to make, it might be helpful to look for the patterns.  Wonder about the things that you are doing ‘instinctively’ and see if you can change them.

In other words, quit dashiing out in front of cars!

 

 

* Shakespeare!  Hamlet, Act IV, Sc. 5


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