Ah Nuts

The sun had been up for hours, dragging the bright blue sky with it. Birds sang harmoniously; refreshing dew still lingered. It was the start of a great new, productive day. Chippy sat on a tree limb, plotting revenge while the lanky biped tormented him with his mere presence. He was accustomed to the slow, earthbound beings acting as if they were friends, or even, almighty forbid, as if he were a pet. He didn’t mind most of the vertically challenged people (as he had heard them referred to), but this brown-haired, bearded one was different. He was a nut terrorist.

Though his movements looked skittish, they were deliberate. His purpose: to collect tasty morsels from the landscape around his oak-tree home, every hour of every day. That was, unless it was nappy time, then he surrounded himself with anything fluffy and dreamt of, well, more nuts. He would repeat these cheek-stuffing activities until the strange white stuff covered the ground, never bothering anyone, just going about his business.

The bearded giant and his minions came and went, carrying large bags filled with uninteresting non-organics. Based on his sniff test, they were not nut-related. Even on the best of days, they held no cheek-stuffing goodies, so he wrote them off. Until that day, that dreadful day.

***

He liked observing what the strangers did; often, it seemed pointless. Chippy always had a reason for his actions; it guided everything he did. Watching through the windows, he saw them staring at glowing boxes containing trapped figures. They laughed, cried, and even spoke to the box. His favorites were usually the shows that the smaller ones watched—ones featuring silly creatures. He especially liked those featuring other squirrels for tips on gathering. But the squirrels in those shows never seemed as serious, preferring frivolous fun over actual nut accumulation.

There came a time when a box on wheels would deliver this group containing the bearded man and the others. They would arrive in the morning and leave in the afternoon, just as they arrived. He appreciated that they maintained a schedule consistent with his stringent event calendar.

Early - they arrived with food, and he gathered food.

Later - they went for food, and he gathered more food.

At some point after - they took open-eyed desk naps, and he slept in his tree.

Night time - they left, he wrapped up his activities, finishing for the day as well.

.***

Out of curiosity, he found a window of opportunity to observe their activities throughout the day. They too stared at glowing boxes, but smaller ones without interesting moving pictures. These had something to tap their hands on, expecting a meaningful return from this activity. It seemed like a strange ritual, gaining nothing meaningful. Acorns were meaningful, walnuts were, heck, any variety of nut was a treasure and an essential pursuit for the day.

Giving it no never mind, Chippy scurried about the wide open area of the park, pouncing, bouncing, racing, saying hi to a dog, squeaking to some other friends along the way. He was generally well-liked and enjoyed the ecosystem. Today was turning out to be one of his best gatherings in a long time, score! He had quite a bounty and worked his routine like an assembly line.

Gathering nuts and seeds from the main lawn, he would bring them back to an area close to his tree home. There was an old staircase that had some loose steps, where he would stash some of this loot for temporary storage before bringing it up to the pantry in his 2-bedroom bungalow, three branches up tree number four. This methodical approach resulted in the highest productivity for his one-squirrel show.

***

This day, the day it all happened, the bearded man was watching him. “What are you doing, Darren?” someone in their pack said in a somewhat elevated tone. “If that squirrel is too lazy to bring his nuts up into a tree, then he’s going to have to find them again!” Darren boldly stated as he pulled some nuts from Chippy’s stash and tossed them off into the distance.

“No!” Chippy chirped as he saw the display, a surge of shock and frustration coursing through him. How can you do this? Don’t you understand the system, the work, the daily goals? I’ll never reach my quota now! Oh, he was irked—he felt a sharp sense of injustice, his hard work suddenly undone.

Darren offered no valid explanation; he acted superior to the squirrel’s efforts. Chippy took note. The battle had begun.

Chippy wasn’t vindictive, but this issue required action. After moving his remaining stockpile to storage, he retreated to his den to plan his next move.

***

Flashy pink Voodoo Donuts boxes arrived nearly daily—a ritual of Chippy’s target. Tempted by their scent, he focused on revenge, planning to use the treats as his vehicle of delivery. Sweet justice awaited.

Because Chippy collected nearly everything he could find from the park and forest where he lived, he had experience with good and bad. He had sometimes been sick and other times saw visions and got wobbly after eating certain plants. He knew there were some soft, mushy plants over by some trees that he normally would avoid. Not today, they were his prime target.

***

Darren stepped out of the building in a haze, an unknown euphoria both warming and alarming. The grass was greener, the sky was brighter, his feet were... not really functioning properly. He didn’t have a lot of experience with this euphoria, but with what little brain power he had control over, he realized he was flying high like a trapeze without a... wait, that makes no sense. He was high as a kite.

Usually, squirrels faded into the background. But today, they were everywhere—tails on the horizon, faces peeking like dandelions, all watching Darren, ready to collect him as if he were a nut. It felt like there were thousands of them, staring at him, mocking him.

Darren turned around to see little Chippy, human-like, smirking. Darren never disrespected a woodland creature again.