Squirrel wondered whether it was worth making a dash for. His long, bushy tail was swathed around his body warming not only him but one or two other red squirrels that were sharing his drey for the winter. He didn't feel like moving, the warm fug acted like an hypnotic drug, a potential killer. Sleep and heat weren't enough to survive the winter. Hunger entered his brain.
The younger squirrels, the kittens, clung to each other with tight-fit bodies. Squirrel yawned and shifted his body away from his sleeping companions. They immediately closed ranks to fill the cold spot, adjusted their bodies then slept on.
He poked his nose through the opening. Snowflakes slapped his face and clung to the fur around his ears. Drifts had formed on the smallest of twigs, gusts of bitterly cold north-east wind skittered across their surface causing clouds of white dust in its wake. It was now or never.
Squirrel leapt onto the branches. He felt as if he could fly, hardly touching his woody path, exploding unused snow, peppering his fur with slivers of ice, side-stepping overhangs, spinning upside-down, somersaulting through twiggy nets, swinging his tail in his plunging descent.
Resting on a sheltered branch, he sniffed the air, holding his paws upright, watching. No enemy footsteps to be seen in the unspoiled fluff of fresh snowfall. Only extreme hunger would tempt predators outside today.
The bird feeder swung recklessly from the bottom branch. The family of blue tits had come and gone, no doubt cosy in their inner sanctum by now.
Squirrel's stomach growled. The icicles on his fur made him shiver, it swirled with the haphazard blasts of freezing air. He would have to be quick.
Seconds later he was enjoying the nuts from the feeder, wildlife's easy take away. He clung, upside-down, the white of his tummy matching the colour of the snow, nibbling, chewing, looking, nibbling, chewing and looking.
The lacy, wooden tendrils scribbled across an off-white sky that was weary of its icy burden. Time to go.
Sated for now, Squirrel skimmed his way back home. It grew colder as the heavens began to sink. Snowballs fell on his head as the tree shook like a dog fresh out of the sea. The drey. A final look around, home at last. Squirrel sank into a red clump of bodies, spread his furry duvet over his head and slept soundly in a steamy heat.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.