Through our windows today, Chris and I have been entertained by the antics of two young squirrels chasing one another round the base of a tree in our garden, up and down the trunk and along the branches. Apart from their small size, we can tell these squirrels are young by the way they leap erratically into the air, turn somersaults on the ground or roll around in one another's arms. I saw one tag the tail of the other to get him to race around some more. They remind me of my grandsons and their friends engaged in blissful rough-and-tumble play in a park*, or gambolling lambs.
The interesting thing about this is that one of the squirrels is grey and the other one is black. They are about the same size and both are in perfect, glossy condition.
If squirrels don't care what colour their equals are, why should we humans?
*Not having played with his school friends or the neighbours' kids since March, during the lock-down, my grandson Thomas finally got the chance to spend a couple of hours running around with a friend of his age yesterday when their mums arranged for them to meet in the open air, in Bushy Park, Teddington. It did Thomas the world of good. He'd been showing signs of depression, which is abnormal for a nine-year-old. In other words, he'd been grieving.
blending an assortment of thoughts and experiences for my friends, relations and kindred spirit
By Alison Hobbs, blending a mixture of thoughts and experiences for friends, relations and kindred spirits.
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