Through the Wildflowers

The familiar orange, red, and yellow hues rain down upon the forest floor in swirls of vibrant color. I can feel the bite in the air. I am behind this season, my nest is nearly barren. My mother would say I have been wasting my days with horse play. As if she had ever seen a horse playing before. Perhaps she is right. I had been spending my summer days in the bushes that circle the lakes shore, Tunneling through them with excellent speed. When I wasn’t at the lake I was leaping through the canopy of the now vibrant colored trees. My legs sprawled and my tail level with my body. I pretended I was flying like the pesky birds around me. The ones with their constant tweeting and cawing. I loathed them. My first few leaps were less than graceful and gave the birds a good laugh. A little squirrel impacting bark repeatedly was something very humorous to watch. Apparently, I was like my father. My mother used the words stubborn at first. Then her word shifted to determination. The first leap I landed was a day I will never forget. It was the beginning of my tale. It gave me confidence, assurance, and understanding that I could do anything I set my mind to. Well, maybe not anything but I was always willing to try.

I now scurry through the bed of leaves that hide the grass, searching for anything useful to keep me full for the frost. It was a terrible time of year. My fur grew to unruly lengths, my feet were always freezing, and food was scarce. If you weren’t prepared, you would be taken by the white flakes that fell from the sky. It happened to my mother. It was some years ago now. I was still young and naive enough to not understand what happened. She was left to care for me alone after my father was taken by wolves. You would have never known though. She had an iron heart. She was dealt a certain hand and she knew there was no changing it. One cruel winter our home was ransacked by intruders and our food supply cut in half. She told me everything was fine, when in reality that shortage meant there was only enough for me to eat that season. So as I ate and grew fat, my mother starved and grew thin. When her weeks were nearing the inevitable end she would tell me stories of brave animals that survived perilous trials of grief, terror, and hardship. Each one made me who I am today. When I realized what was happening there was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could have done then. As I wander these woods now, all these years later, I still do not scorn her for lying to me. I commend her instead, for her bravery. Like those of the stories I cherish so much. Not once did she falter or show fear. She stayed strong for me. She made me strong and that was why I am still here.

I lunge onto the bark of a tree, climbing to the top branches. The noise that fills my home in the warm months is growing quiet again. Birds flying south, Bears finding their dens, and deer now traveling in the heart of the forest where berries are more easily found and humans less so. I peak my head out of the canopy and gaze across the sea of trees. On the horizon are the mountains that stand tall. The tops are beginning to collect snow now. Another sign that winter was coming. Sometimes I liked to stay here, staring at their beauty. A place I will never visit but admire from afar. Some of the stories my mother told me when I was young were of great goats that dared climb the violent ridges in hopes of reaching the top and proving their worthiness to their horde. Birds that ascend into the skies to surpass those ridges and see what awaits them on the other side. I had seen humans pass by in search of those giants. Their backs covered in nests of their own. We avoided them like they were our enemy. I kept my distance after all these years. Wary of their comings and goings. I tucked my head back into the canopy, breaking my eyes from the mountains.

I gathered acorns wherever I found them, dropping them off one by one. I finally stopped, descending to my familiar hole, surveying my new delights. Mother would have been right. I had spent my time unwisely. I still had weeks before the first real frost. I could still find food after, it was just more challenging. I will survive this, as I have survived the last five on my own. I was cunning and willing to go far. Farther than my own neighbors would dare journey. Maybe it was time to do such a thing? The odds would be greater for me in the end. It would also leave the horde of food here for my neighbors taking. As seclusive as I was, I still valued their lives as much as my own. It was decided in the midst of my thoughts that I would take off for this journey in the morning. Tonight I would rest, hide my storage, and then leave for my quest. After all, The sun was now shining across the canopies, casting gold through the branches. That meant the day was saying it’s final goodbyes. Evenings were meant for filling growling bellies, cleaning dirt out of shaggy coats, and examining our toes for lodgings of foreign objects that did not belong there. So I began the routine and soon enough night had fallen. I listened to the owls and the crickets. Before I knew it, I had succumbed to the rest that had been threatening me for hours now.

I set off as I had said I would. In the first hours of morning, I weaved together a few of the largest leaves I could find. Together they made a sack that could hold a worthy amount of food. My mother taught me how to weave leaves. I would spend hours everyday performing the art. It was an old tradition passed down from our elders. One we kept secret.

I was a few hours into my travels before I decided to rest. My fur was coated in a layer of moisture and my stomach was angry. I nestled on the edge of a branch, leaning my back to the trunk. I savored the rich nuttiness of a walnut and my taste buds were more than pleased. Walnuts had always been my favorite. They were a rarer find compared to acorns. Making them a rare treat. I decided to eat one now, hoping it would bring good fortune to my first day of travels. Squirrels believed in such things. Finding a bush of untouched berries meant good luck for the coming year, rarer nuts meant good health and fortune, while seeing bear tracks by your door step meant Ill tidings. I believed such things. The day our home was ransacked, we had found tracks beneath our tree.

After I quenched my hunger and thirst I carried on for another four hours. The smell of wildflowers wafted past me and I followed it. Wildflowers meant life and even though their life was coming to an end, I would cherish them while they were still here. I arrived at a clearing and stopped in awe. What I saw was more breathtaking than any mountain. It made the oranges, yellows, and reds of fall seem dull. Before me was a field of rainbows. There were no bees, only a few hummingbirds, but none of those mattered to me. What mattered were the insects. The critters that would give me strength. They would only fill me for the first month but it was enough to save my nut supply. I looked to my right and then my left. I took off, racing through the thick grass. It was indeed dying. The air was dense in this field, dry. Brown edged the tips of grass blades, flowers here and there drooped forming a sad oval, and weeds were spreading their seeds for next spring. I dove into one and watched the pappus parachute off. Some sticking to my back and bushy tail. I dove in and out of the flowers, circling them and relishing in their extravagant colors. I found what I was looking for in every corner. Ants, beetles, and crickets. It was plentiful! I eventually had to force myself to leave.

I entered the forest once again and hunkered down in a small opening of a tall black birch. I had to admit to myself, I was rather pleased and in good spirits. My mother would have been proud of me. She would have loved to see such a sight. Maybe she did in her lifetime. I smiled and tucked a few purple petals in my arms, curling in on myself. Tonight I would rest easy and maybe dream of her. Purple had always been her favorite color after all.

A week had come and gone in a blink of an eye. My pack was nearly overflowing with splendor. It was almost time to turn back and journey home. A part of me wanted to never go back. Who would have known deep down I was the type that enjoyed adventure! Don’t get me wrong. I have always been a content squirrel. The first year on my own was the hardest but I managed. My thoughts broke as a noise in the distance silenced my world.

Then, between the trees, I saw something tall break through the bramble. It was a human. She looked distraught. At least, I think that’s what that look meant? It was the same crease that formed above my mothers eyes the winter she perished. I sank further into the leaves watching. Every instinct was screaming for me to run but I couldn’t. There was also something telling me to stay. It was subtle unlike the other thought. She stopped, falling to her knees beside the roots of a tree directly across from me. Her nest was worn, her hair a mess, and what covered her body looked old. I glanced past her and thought she must have come from the mountains. By the looks of her, she wasn’t going to make it back. Then, an awful wailing pierced the forest. She bent her head into her hands and water dripped between them. She was sad. I didn’t know from any logical stand point. I felt it. I knew it. I stood on that branch watching her for an eternity. Contemplating on what I should do. I made my choice. I nestled my pack on the branch, reached inside for a few of my prized walnuts and scurried down the tree to what could be my death.

I tip-toed towards her, holding the nuts in my mouth with caution. My heart was thundering. She was massive! I told myself at least they are smaller than bears. She was still wailing when I nudged her boot, stepping back immediately. Feet were for kicking and I didn’t want to imagine being kicked by one of that size. She jumped and in reaction I mimicked her. I don’t know how long we stared at one another before one of us decided to move. She wiped the water from her face and I pointed with my nose to the walnuts I had dropped before her. Mother had always told me a way to friendship was through food.

“Are those for me?” At that moment I realized I had never heard a human voice before. I had no idea what she was saying so I pointed to the walnuts again, then took a step back, arching on my hind legs. She eventually grabbed them and ate them. The water was flowing again but not as intense as before.

“You’re an odd squirrel. Usually they run. Or maybe I have finally lost my mind too?”

She was talking again. She ate the food. Good, It was good to keep your strength out here.

“I am lost little guy. I don’t remember my way home.”

I stared at her, tilting my head. I wanted to understand her but squirrels weren’t taught the ways of humans. They never would be. I think she understood that too. She took her nest off her back and went through it. A large piece of paper emerged from it. She set it on the grass. I inched to the edge, looking at it. It was a rendering of my home. Then she pulled out a circular contraption. Whatever it was, it was broken. Even I could see that. Then the realization struck me. She was lost! She was trying to get home. I could show her the way! I danced in a circle and ran back up the tree I left my bag in. I hurried back and eagerly tried to show her the way. We didn’t need tools. Squirrels always knew their way back. It took several minutes for her to understand but I finally got through to her.

“You’re going to take me home?” She put her nest on her back again and stood from the forest floor. She was so tall! Not as tall as a tree, I told myself. Now that would be frightening. She wasn’t all that frightening. Maybe some humans were okay? I darted in the direction I had come, beckoning her to follow. She did and so we went on like this for days. I would lead the way and she would follow. We stopped during the night and walked during the day’s. I took her through the wildflowers and they seemed to lift her spirits as they did mine when I had first discovered them. I collected food along the way. Plundering what I had missed on the way here. She seemed to be doing the same thing. What a strange thought, that humans and squirrels ate the same food!

That night we rested under the covering of a willow tree. I always stayed in the trees. Humans liked to build fires and on occasion I had seen rabbits roasting over them. Horrified I ran away every time. Logic told me she would have roasted me by now if she was going to.

“No ones going to believe me that I was guided home by a squirrel.” She was talking again. I perked my ears up. I had no idea what she was saying but I tried nonetheless.

“Part of me believes my mother sent you. A spirit to carry me home. She’s the reason I was out here to begin with.” I peaked below, watching her pull something from the nest again. It was small and difficult to see from this high up. I stretched and crawled down the tree, close to her head. It was like the image of my home but instead of a forest It was of her and an older version of her. No, it was her mother. I watched a few drips of water fall from her eyes as she looked at it. I didn’t need to understand humans to know she had also lost her mother.

“She died last year. She was a mountain climber. She loved nature. It was difficult to keep her indoors. She got sick and never recovered. This was one of her favorite places to go. So I wanted to visit. Turns out I am nothing like her. I fell down on part of the mountain and broke my compass, losing direction.” She wiped her face again. I went back up the tree and searched through my bag. I found the whittling purple petals and brought them down to her. I set them in her lap and nudged her leg. She grabbed them gently and looked at them for a long time. The tears grew, eventually stopping.

“Something is telling me, you understand.” She set the petals back down beside me. I shook my head.

“These are for me?” I watched her put them in her nest with the picture.

“I still think you’re rather strange, but I am glad to have met you. You saved my life.” That night passed under a star filled sky and so did the rest of the nights that followed. We came to my home and the trails humans often walked were surrounding us once again. I had brought her back to familiar lands and so our journey was coming to an end. I set my leaf sac in my tree and scurried down to say one last goodbye. She had grown on me. Then I saw to my surprise, she had made a pile of food that could last a dozen squirrels all winter! I paused on the branch just above her head, looking down in astonishment.

“You saved my life, let me save yours. I hear it’s going to be a harsh winter. Take care of yourself little guy.” She then looked at me and the strangest expression spread across her face. Her lips were in an awkward formation.

“I will see you next year.” I watched as she vanished into the trees. Humans weren’t the frightening creatures we were always told they were. Some in fact, were kind. I survived that harsh winter, and so did those around me.

Every year after, she came to see me and together we journeyed to that field of wildflowers and the pain of our losses became distant memories. Ones we would cherish until the end of our days.