I caught the action from the corner of my eye, a squirrel was leaping through the trees trying to take down a crow. He exuded determination. This was no ordinary squirrel, I’m sure his name was Rambo. The following pictures are a still life portrayal of what followed. I was too damn slow to get the tree leaping pictures.
The crow floated down to the ground, looking for something fun to do. It’s such a drag to sit up in a tree all day and shriek.
Hmmm, I see potential over there. Look at that squirrel running back and forth gathering seeds. He’s such a hoarder. Maybe I should let him know there are help groups, for that sort of problem. I could help him. I could teach him about fun.
“Hey— nose to the grindstone squirrel” calls the crow, “Lets have a little fun?” The squirrel ignores him. “Hey workaholic, I’m talking to you. I can take over packing your seed. Why don’t you go and put your claws up for a while?”
Rambo leaps up, and barrels across the snow, “No way you feather-faced tyrant. You’re not gonna boss me around. I have a baby on the way.” Rambo shows his sharp pointy teeth, “I’m not a meat eater but maybe I’ll try a wing!”
The crow lets out a cackle, “Maybe you should take an anger management class?” He flies up avoiding the attack, and gives Rambo a wink on the way by.
“Over here Bucky.” taunts the crow. “Try and catch me you overgrown mouse.”
Rambo races toward him, growling like a banshee. “You lazy, branch sitting, batwing. Leave me alone. I need to work.”
The crow warbles, “Aww, come on little fur ball, move your feet. Faster, faster owl-bait.” His black wings flap “I’m going to eat all your food, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”
“Yeah, well you’re not chowing down now? Are you pinfeather brain?” puffs Rambo.
“I’ll eat when I want to eat.” Preens the bird, “I’m enjoying our rendezvous. Catch me if you can.”
“I got you now, you mealy mouthed, air-beater.” Rambo leaps into the air, and brushes the crows claw with his teeth.
“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me,” Singsongs the crow. He sweeps the air with his expansive wings, “Later fur ball, I’ll be back tomorrow.” The crow disappears into the Southern sky.
Rambo begins to pack food again, wearing a teeny tiny path through the forest.
Humans have road rage, we get angry about our personal driving space. Apparently squirrels have tree rage, they get angry about other animals messing around in their tree space.
Today I learned I would rather be a crow, than a squirrel.