A Weasel & Thin Squirrels

It’s Friday night. All week I’ve been away from home, with thoughts of the weasel darting and chasing through my head. Now, I stand in my kitchen; look down to the pond, and like magic he appears. My grandson sees him: “It is the first time I’ve ever seen a weasel alive and not running across a road”, he says. "He looks a bit like a sausage with one end raised up". I can’t take my eyes off this pretty scampering fellow. Back and forth across the lawn, round and about the pond, in and out of the geraniums, he appears and disappears so quick – he’s so sprightly. While we’re still enjoying his capering fun he disappears up the bank and leaves us elated, but bereft. Happy to have seen him and so sad he’s gone.

Along the A10, the roadside verges have changed. They are almost totally different. The heavy rain showers of late have greened the grass and caused a new outcrop of wild flowers. We passed a massive colony of rose bay willow herb still standing purple and proud, but the crowd of thistles in front was smothered in a thick layer of down. It had been broken at the edges by the insistent wind, carrying the seeds off to pastures new. As a child, I collected this down and made doll’s pillows and mattresses for my sisters’ dolls with it.

The thin squirrels are insistently banging on the windows asking for food – summer is their hardest time. And more squirrels starve to death at this time of year than most people realize. Happily, while I’ve been away, my son has fed them.