Return To The Forest

Several squirrels ran to greet Paul as he walked into the yard and entered the house. The mid-afternoon sun was warm, and he was ready to take a break. Feeding time was first, and barely had he taken off his shoes when Ruth began to cry upstairs. How did the littlest squirrel know it was him, walking in the door, out of sight and one floor down? Amazing.

“Roof’s awehg!”

Bravo ran frenzied circles around him, delighted to see him and also because feeding time for Ruth meant a taste or two for him. He was convinced that the formula helping the baby grow was going to help him grow too, and that would mean a tail as long and proud as any of the others.

Rizzo met him in the kitchen as he put the cup into the microwave.

“How’s Ruth?”

“Huhgry. Ahwehs huhgry… she’s growhn fasd. Ahbry’s wahjn her.”

The microwave beeped, and Paul took out the cup of warm formula. Bravo licked his lips as the liquid was sucked up into the syringe.

“Kehn I tehsd to see ihv ihds too hahd?” he asked, looking up seriously.

The test was like a gehm. The goohd foohd was never too hot, and it always tasted right. He knew he didn’t really have to test it, yet the bihgwun always smiled, mama let him, and it was so wonderful. He smacked his lips as the delicious formula went down. The test sample was now a good swallow as opposed to a drop or two, and Paul accordingly made a larger portion.

Ruth met them at the door, still intimidated by the bihgwun’s height yet swiftly learning from the behavior of the others that he was not a threat. He knelt down, and she hopped into his free hand, shivering with anticipation and reaching up with tiny paws as the syringe came closer. Rizzo and Aubry watched from Paul’s shoulder in fascination and love for the little orphan.

Riffraff, Blackburn and Quicksilver burst in, nosing curiously at the bihgwun’s hands.

“Feehdn tyhm,” Quicksilver observed in a gentle voice, careful not to disturb the little one as she worked on the syringe. Aubry nodded.

“We had owhr feehdn tyhm ahrehdy,” Riffraff grinned, “inna bad bihgwun’s Gardn. Lahda goohd foohd!”

“H’m.”

Paul looked at the bravest, strongest squirrel.

“I wondered if that was you I saw running away when the old man honked the horn.”

“Yuhb,” the squirrel answered enthusiastically. It was a funny sound that the bihgwun made, and the squirrels imitated it.

“Bihg noyhs, we ruhn weh. Bad bihgwun wahs mehgn mohr noyhs hisehf.”

The other two little accomplices sniggered.

“Weehr the Varmihns.”

Ruth finished the formula, nudged the syringe for some more, disappointedly sniffed and nibbled the massive paw of the bihgwun, then strained at the edge of his palm to be let down. The paw descended and she stepped cautiously off and down to the ground, seeing Bravo and immediately making her way towards him. He crouched down as she approached. She leapt, landing clumsily as he rolled out of the way, and she rolled too. She was delighted, imitating his every move and loudly chirking as he cuffed her. She tried cuffing him in return, growled in her tiny throat and stumbled sideways.

“Keffu,” Rizzo told her little one, and steadied Ruth.

“Dohn pleh too hard. Yoo gehd hurd.”

Paul glanced around the squirrels room, taking in the little family. Everyone was in one room, however briefly it might be.

“I need to talk to you about the garden.”

The little ones paused.

“The garden belongs to the ba- to Bruce, the bihgwun who lives there. He planted each seed, and every day he goes into the garden to see how those plants are growing, and he waters them.”

Riffraff fidgeted. Reached over to push Blackburn, and Blackburn prepared to push him back. Both reluctantly paused as Paul shook his head. Riffraff folded his front paws up against his fuzzy chest and twitched his nose. Bravo twitched his nose, and Ruth tried to twitch her nose. She didn’t know how, so she tried to pull Bravo down instead, and struggled as Rizzo firmly separated them. Paul was talking, and it was important.

“If you go to the garden and eat the plants he put in the ground, it will make him very angry. He will hurt you if he can.”

Paul looked at each one, and they looked back up with wide, innocent eyes.

“He will try to hurt you as much as he can, if any of you are in his garden. I can’t stop him.”

“Buhd ihv we sneehg in, he wohn see uhs.”

“It’s much better if you stay away, all the time.”

The little ones looked at each other with solemn faces.

“Ar yoo gohn be his frehn?”

All the squirrels paused. Ruth yawned.

“Well, yes, I’m going to try. He’s the only other bihgwun living up here.”

“Buhd nahd inna gardn.”

“No,” Paul grinned, glancing at Fettler.

“I think we can be friends if I stay out of his garden.”

Quicksilver chittered as someone cuffed him from behind. He whirled round and smacked Blackburn, who hadn’t cuffed him but was certainly aiming to now, until he tripped over Riffraff’s outstretched hind paw and blundered into Paddington. Ruth chittered excitedly as the squirrels sped around the room like orange lightning. Finished or not, the talk was over, and Paul sat on the floor in the middle of the room, watching each of the gang fly around the room, from pole to rope to shelf. This was the squirrel’s room, full of things squirrels could climb, swing from, hide inside, chew, and play with. They ate, drank and slept here. Ruth, eyes heavy and head drooping, grumbled sleepily as Rizzo coaxed her into the nest of shredded paper that Aubry had fluffed up.

Later, long after the last syringe of sweet formula for Ruth had been served, past the fading of the blood-red sunset, after the lights had been turned off and the bihgwun had gone to bed, two little paws brushed away tiny tears. A little one sat up in the warm blackness of the squirrel’s room. Bravo sniffed, sat up, and wiped his eyes again.

He padded softly to the window, hardly daring to look outside. Of all the squirrels, he was the only one awake, the only one who couldn’t sleep. He gingerly peered over the windowsill into the twilight surrounding the house, and fearfully withdrew.

Something touched his shoulder, and he very nearly chittered, whirling in fright.

“Kehn sleehb?”

Rizzo sat beside him. She tenderly smoothed the fur and nuzzled the ears of her little one, who collapsed against her with relief.

“No,” Bravo sniffed, and leaned into the comfort of his mother’s embrace.

“I saw th’ bihg cad wehn I wahs sleehbn. He’s owsyhd!”

Rizzo peered out into the darkness.

“I dohn thig soh. Too clohs to this bihgwun plehs. See? Loohg.”

They both gazed out into the darkness. The dark shapes of the trees rose up, their comforting, protective branches spreading out high over the house, and between two trees they could both see the half circle of the moon, glowing silver white. The moon gazed down upon them, leaving a gentle, shimmering brightness on everything it saw, and when Bravo looked up, he saw the light playing in his mama’s eyes.

“Noh bihg cad owsyhd?”

Rizzo shook her head, and hugged Bravo.

“Noh. He’s far aweh, ah by hisehf. Nobuhdy to rub his eahrs.”

Bravo looked up at the trees, and didn’t say anything. A long silence followed as they watched the half moon climb higher, as if it were carefully searching the branches, looking for the other half. Bravo felt warm and safe, and Rizzo nudged him.

“Ar yoo rehdy fohr sleehbn?”

Bravo mumbled drowsily.

“Yeh.”

“It was a cougar. I’m sure of it.”

Bruce glanced intently at the younger man, then returned to the road. Today was the big event. The old man insisted on doing the driving, yet when the Chevy truck rolled into the driveway, he had the look of someone on his way to see the dentist. The purchase of the computer was forgotten as Paul told him about the hike up the ridge. Minus the squirrels, of course.

“A mountain lion? Usually they see you a long time before you see them, if they don’t smell you first. They go to a lot of trouble to avoid contact.”

“It was the bobcat I was looking at, the way it was camouflaged in the shadows- and then the cougar attacked.”

The shriek echoed in Paul’s mind, and he shook his head.

“I don’t want to hear that noise again anytime soon.”

Bruce looked both ways at a four way stop, and the truck rolled into the village.

“Most folks from the city wouldn’t get anywhere close to a cougar. Too dimwitted, and-”

He caught himself and scowled.

“There I go,” he muttered to himself, then spoke louder.

“Sorry. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Paul replied easily.

“When it comes to wildlife, you’re probably right.”

“Well, I’ve never actually seen a cougar,” Bruce admitted. The truck angled into a free parking space on the main street. He paused thoughtfully.

“I’d love to tree one, with hounds. Anyway, here we are.”

Paul imagined the desperate animal on a limb with howling dogs below, and opened the passenger door of the truck.

As dimwitted as city folks might be, Bruce spent most of the time in the computer store looking around in complete bewilderment. He caught Paul grinning, and half-scowled, half-smiled in return. Yet he paid close attention as Paul explained the major components of a pc in simple terms and frowned with concentration as his neighbor rattled through a long list of specifications with the salesman. Some items were discussed more than others, and by the time Bruce stepped up to the counter with his credit card, the actual cost of the package was quite different than the original price. Whatever the opinion of the salesman towards Bruce, it was considerably lower when it came to the new homeowner from the city.

“Thanks,” Bruce told the other as the truck rattled up the mountain road. He chuckled.

“I don’t imagine Todd’s going to forget your face too soon, losing four hundred dollars to an old idiot like me.”

Paul shrugged.

“If he was more friendly, he could probably make up a good portion of the difference with classes or training for first-timers. His loss.”

“Yes. Training,” Bruce reluctantly repeated.

“I’ll get you started,” Paul interjected.

“It won’t take long. You’ll see.”

They turned off on the narrow driveway to Bruce’s house, and the man abruptly cursed, angrily honking the horn. Startled, Paul followed his gaze to the left, wincing as several small, furry shapes burst out of the garden, fleeing for the trees. He was certain one of the animals was Riffraff.

“Excuse me. You see what I have to deal with,” Bruce frowned, gesturing at the garden.

“There’s more varmints this year. I’m sure of it.”

Paul shook his head sympathetically as the truck stopped, and the beginnings of a firm and necessary conversation with the fuzzy family began to form in his thoughts. Monitor, pc, printer and various other related items were carried into the house.

A solid hour passed before everything was unpacked. Bruce hadn’t considered where to put it, and after some thought chose the den.

“I’m still not sure about this,” he said, leading Paul into the dark wood-paneled room. On one wall was a wood cabinet with a glass door, and inside, straight up in their brackets stood four Winchester rifles. There were more antlers on the wall, and higher up, two mounted deer heads looked ambivalently down upon the two men.

“Don’t do much hunting anymore,” Bruce commented as Paul looked up.

“It’s too bad. Plenty of bucks in this area, and one can fill a freezer for the entire winter season. I track almost everything these days with a shopping cart.”

Paul nodded halfheartedly at the joke, but the deer heads remained solemn.

“Ever tried venison? It’s quite-”

“No,” Paul interrupted.

“Where do you want these? The desk?”

“Uh, yeah. Here, I’ll make room.”

If Bruce noticed the shortness in Paul’s reaction, he said nothing. Maybe his young neighbor needed to concentrate on the task at hand, and he was grateful for the assistance. He swept books and papers onto the nearby reclining chair and moved the desk out from the wall. He could do little but watch as Paul connected power cords and each of the various components together in a confusing tangle of cords, and he watched in growing fascination as the computer came to life, right there on the desk.

“It’ll be a day or two before the internet is available,” Paul said, and grinned as Bruce continued to stare at the screen. The man was clearly interested, and that was good.

“The provider will give you a call… I arranged that at the store.”

“So… you’ll come help me after? I sure appreciate this.”

Paul nodded.

“Yup. Give me a call whenever. Anyway, for the time being you can get used to how the mouse works, and the various programs… I have to get going.”

“Sure.”

Bruce could hardly tear his eyes from the display as the cursor moved with every motion of the mouse. He broke away and stood up.

“Thanks again. I owe you.”

“Not at all,” Paul shook his head as they walked to the door.

“Nothing that supper doesn’t cover.”

Two fuzzy shapes bounded at full speed towards Paul as he stepped into the driveway approaching the house, and he braced himself as both leapt upwards and settled on his shoulders. Quicksilver and Paddington. Their flowing tails twitched and little noses with long whiskers tickled his ears.

“Wahdoon, Pawl? Dihjoo see the bad bihgwun?”

“Yeah,” Paul grinned.

“He’s not so bad. How’s the little one?”

“Sleehbn.”

“Yeh. Wahn pleh with her, buhd she’s tyhrd.”

Paul wasn’t in the house five minutes before Rizzo came scampering downstairs to the main room where Paul was having a tugging match with Riffraff, Blackburn, and an old towel.

“She’s wehgn uhb, and huhgry,” Rizzo said urgently.

“Kehn yoo brihn her foohd?”

“Sure.”

Paul held on to the towel for another moment. Just as the two squirrels were pulling their hardest, he let go, and they tumbled backwards in a tangle of paws and tails. Paul threw the towel over the pair, and there was much scrambling, growling and chittering underneath. He lifted it with a big grin, and they all scurried upstairs to see the littlest squirrel.

“Y’hafto gihv her a nehm,” Fettler insisted as everyone watched the bihgwun carefully squeeze out the delicious milk to the tiny little red one.

“Yeh, wahs her nehm gohna be?”

“Okay, it’s official,” Paul said firmly, and one side of his mouth curled up in a smile.

“Tonight she gets a name.”

Aubry hopped up and down, and Bravo ran around everyone several times. A new name!

The feeding completed, Rizzo thoroughly cleaned and groomed the restless little orphan. She could hardly contain herself as the bihgwun took her and the red kit in his hands, downstairs to the computer. The entire family raced down to meet them, and as the little one curiously nosed about Paul’s hand and arm, he set her down on the rug near the desk. With Rizzo and Aubry close beside, she took wobbly, determined steps towards Bravo, who chittered and bounced as the little one sniffed his nose and lifted a tiny paw to touch him.

Pages of names were freely available all over the net, and Paul selected one site at random. He had no idea what to call the little red squirrel, and it wasn’t important to him what she was called. It was a different matter for the squirrels. This little one would have a Name, an Important Thing to Remember, a sign that she was recognized by a bihgwun. For as long as any of them could recall, they had lived in the world of the bihgwuns, and only Fettler had pictures of the place where they had come from, in his Important Things to Remember. They were quite aware that they were not like the other squirrels that lived in the city park, and they certainly didn’t belong with bihgwuns. A Name was one of very few things that kept them from being lost and alone.

The printer grunted and wheezed as it pushed out several pages of names. Blackburn nudged it, sorely tempted to nibble the enticing white paper that slowly came rolling out. He resisted as Paul reached over and picked up the papers, casually looking at each one. No particular name was waiting to be assigned to an adopted squirrel, and he shuffled through the pages again, frowning with concentration. The others were fidgeting and growing impatient, looking expectantly at the bihgwun. Didn’t he know what to do?

“Rhonda, Rosel, Rosco, Rosa, Rufus…”

He paused as the little one turned and tilted her head sideways up at him.

“That’s a boy’s name.”

Yet it was the closest thing to a connection he was likely to get from her. She tried to nibble Bravo’s nose, and he rolled away from her. She was fascinated, and tried to roll too.

“Rufus?”

She looked up again, whiskers twitching. All the squirrels saw it and tried saying it themselves. Paul’s eyebrows lifted, and he shrugged.

“Roohfuhs.”

“Roohf!”

When Bravo said it, the name sounded like Ruth, shorter and certainly a girl’s name, and she immediately wobbled toward him. The bihgwun knelt down on the floor, and gently scooped up the restless little ball of fur.

“From now on, small one, your name is Ruth.”

And that was that. Ruth struggled to get down, not understanding the excitement of the others around her but happy to be the center of attention, and when the bihgwun put out a bowl of root beer, there was much celebrating. After two careful sips and two tiny sneezes her beautiful white eyelids began to droop. The newest member of the family had a name.

The sun shone brightly next morning. Paul yawned and was about to roll over when Ruth began crying in the next room, and there was no sleeping through that for anyone. He thumped straight down to the kitchen with a small collection of squirrels following- Bravo, Paddington and Quicksilver- and heated up the milk replacement. Bravo was delighted to make sure that it wasn’t too hot. He wasn’t entirely convinced on the first sip, and took another just to be sure.

Ruth didn’t stop making noise when she saw the bihgwun coming into the room, the noises merely changed. The smell of the rich milk filled the air, and instead of crying, she started chirping, bouncing happily up and down like a jittery sparrow. She could see the syringe now, and latched on to it as soon as it was within reach. The adopted little one flinched as a finger gently scratched her fur, but she didn’t mind as long as the sweet milk dripped out of the syringe. A full belly quieted the crying, soothed dancing paws, and it was barely five tiny, wobbly steps back to the box before the fuzzy head drooped and eyes closed.

Paul brought Rizzo and Aubry some chunks of raw vegetables with the usual walnuts and granola as they mothered the adopted little one. Riffraff complained that there were no cashews in his breakfast, and when Blackburn offered an almond instead, he tossed it back with a grunt. Blackburn dodged, and Bravo tried to steal one of Paddington’s pile of raisins, squawking when a smack deflected his fuzzy paws. A houseful of ornery kids, and Paul shook his head.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“Too muhj tyhm insyhd,” commented Fettler from one of his favorite spots, on top of the fridge.

Paul looked up thoughtfully.

“You’re right.”

Sun shining through the immense floor-to-ceiling window in the main room confirmed an almost cloudless sky, and he nodded.

“Time to get out for a walk- a long walk. Come on. All of you.”

“Dohn wahna wahg,” Riffraff grumbled. A firm poke in the side sent him scurrying with a surprised chirk.

“It’s beautiful outside. We’re going exploring.”

Bravo’s ears perked up.

“Esblohrn?”

He got up and scampered over to Paul, who was throwing a few items into a small shoulder pack.

“Gohn aweh?”

“Not far,” Paul said, grabbed the house keys, and paced towards the door.

No matter what their mood, curiosity was an overpowering instinct. The chance to go into the mysterious forest with the protection of a bihgwun was intriguing. Rizzo and Aubry looked like they would enjoy it too, but wouldn’t budge when Paul asked.

“Kehn leehv th’ lihdl wuhn alohn,” Rizzo said firmly.

“Dohn go weh too lahn, hokay? Roohv be huhgry lehdr.”

“Okay,” Paul agreed.

“Not long.”

Paul walked round to the rear of the house and began ascending the ridge. Six squirrels bounded, paced and scampered out with him; Fettler, Blackburn, Riffraff, Quicksilver, Paddington and Bravo. The sapphire blue canopy of sky went on and on, over white peaks and into the shimmering distance, and the air was sharp and tangy with pine. The forest called them, rolling hills and mountain heights clothed in trees spoke to the little ones almost as clearly as a voice speaking in words, greeting them, beckoning and offering up everything for the discovering.

Every squirrel except Fettler had been born in the shadow of bihgwun places. They could identify the smells of the city, recognized the sounds one would expect to hear, and by sight knew all the animals likely to enter the park. Possums, skunks, rabbits, ducks, dogs and cats were regular visitors, not to mention the various bihgwuns that came through. They could remember the good ones, the friendly ones that brought food. The city was a place of bright lights, never truly dark, not even in the darkest storm in the middle of the night. Life under the bright lights was loud, full of the sound and noise of bihgwuns. Many, many years of living with these sights and sounds were ingrained into the fuzzy heads of the squirrels.

Moving out of the city, up into the mountains to live in the embrace of woods and forests was a profound event for the family. They could try to describe it to Paul, and they certainly wanted to. Paddington said that it was like living inside a walnut, for as long as he could remember- and suddenly seeing the shell cracking open to let him out. That might begin to describe how they could hear the wild voices that rode upon the breeze, speaking of rain approaching, cold nights, and changing seasons. He could foresee from the shape and taste of new pine cones whether a rich season lay ahead, of food in plenty and many little ones. He could try to describe the infinite variety of sounds, smells and sights of the other animals in the forest, and tell how being a little one meant that most of these messages were warnings, each one the difference between scampering into a tiny nest and safety… or not. He could try to tell the kind bihgwun about the right places to bury pine cones and other nuts, how little ones recognized places in the forest, groups of trees planted by squirrels long, long ago, friendly places with nests and hiding places shared and lived in by generations of families, from one to the next, through sun and snow, day and night without end. The feeling of sun-warmed wood underneath one’s paws, the taste of fresh rain filtered through leaves and pine needles, the pattern of entire seasons and the migration of squirrels from one side of the wood to the other, from one forest to another, from one mountain to the next…

These things he and the others had discovered in themselves, knowledge they knew without thinking, deep inside, underneath the Important Things to Remember. Little memories that had no meaning in the tiny park in the middle of the bihgwun city came to life here, fresh every morning and vibrantly important right now, on the ridge, as they cleared the crest.

A warning that Fettler voiced in a rapid, urgent chitter. The squirrels flew up the nearest trees, leaving Paul to stand up against a wide trunk, looking anxiously around.

Blackburn descended headfirst to a level with his ear.

“Loohg rowhn, through th’ trees. Two cads.”

Paul carefully edged around, peering through the woods, and saw nothing. There was a break, a small clearing where the sun shone down, and shadows scattered about. His eyes widened as a collection of lights and darks stirred, moved, and became a bobcat, skulking at the edge of the clearing, looking around and behind. Was it the same bobcat? It was agitated, head turning right and left, and he heard the lingering, bubbling growl.

Paul gasped as branches, leaves and twigs opened violently behind the cat, and a huge, golden shape lunged forward, paws outstretched and mouth wide open in a scream that was awful and deadly. A cougar! The bobcat frantically sidestepped, raised front paws in defense as the bigger cat whirled, a solid mass of muscle and sinew. The noise grew in volume, both cats screeching, one in terror and the other in fury. They rolled and tumbled into the center of the sunlit grass, the bloodied bobcat broke away in a desperate leap away from the grasping paws and made the trees, vanishing into the underbrush. The cougar leapt, sounds of an unseen struggle arose, and one final shriek was choked into silence.

As far from the clearing as they were, Paul hardly dared to move. White knuckles relaxed and fingers ached from gripping the tree as the little ones gathered round, subdued and quiet. Riffraff, the bravest, looked solemnly up at Paul.

“I wahn go hohm now, hokay? I be goohd.”