Beating the Heat

For the last several summers we have enjoyed sitting in our walled backyard observing  Mrs. Squirrel and her annual brood.  Two summers ago we watched her move her young babies, one by one, carrying each one protesting and mewling in her mouth, jumping from one branch to another on to the roof-top to their new location.  Why she decided to move her offspring is still a mystery.

Last year two tragedies struck. The day after her youngsters emerged from the safety of their nest, tentatively moving up and down their “home” branch scurrying back to the nest if spooked, one fell to our patio and I found the following day. Then in the Fall a fierce wind storm shook the nest down, completely destroying any remnants. In early Spring, the trees still bare of leaves it was obvious that no new nest had been built, much to our disappointment.

But good news,  last week semi-hidden amongst the leaves, the nest is back - same exact location, sturdy-looking and ready for occupancy.  On the evening of this year's sweltering summer solstice (90 plus degrees), low and behold Mrs. Squirrel made her appearance. Stretched out along two  branches, her goofy little front feet clasping a narrow branch, her head resting along side, her big pregnant belly splayed out between the two wider-set horizontal branches. She looked like any soon-to-be mother, ready to burst, desperately trying to find a comfortable position on a hot summer night - waiting, waiting, just waiting for her job to begin.