Sitting in bed this morning, I happened to look out the window. New leaves are sprouting on the old silver maple growing at the back of the property. The big knot hole is still there--home one year and maybe others to a screech owl family--something we discovered only when my daughter came across a baby owl in the garden that must have fallen from the nest.
This morning, though, what caught my eye was a tussling of squirrels high up in the canopy. From a distance, there appeared to be two, and they appeared to be mating. It was the most daredevilish style of romance, with a tussle high up, then one squirrel in free fall for ten feet before catching hold and dashing right back up for more. Then both fell, for what looked like twenty feet, miraculously catching their fall on a lower limb and again dashing back up to a higher spot to continue what was either wrestling or mating, or both. Passion and altitude would not seem a good mix, yet the squirrels looked ready to risk all, and in the process demonstrated the depth of their acrobatic brilliance.