Twice upon one time, there were two
squirrels in the same wood, one of them in perpetual harvesting motion, wise
and industrious, gleaning seeds and bugs and litter and nuts, while the other
did not, enjoying instead the one season of good weather. Each of them indulged
his situation, the one in fretful, even desperate endeavor, busy-busy
to-and-fro-ing, the other in timely and sensible pleasure. (You think you know
where this is going?”)
What a heaped-up harvest the good
squirrel made, while the prodigal lay back on piney boughs in the shade of
upper branches for noon nap breaks from his escapades. There were moments when
the stirring one, worn to a frazzle, envied the other but could not condone
either the laziness or fits of razzle dazzle. He collected mushrooms and dried
them neatly on covert twigs, then stored them out of reach. The profligate ate
a fading peach, not feeling the need of conscientious greed. He scampered and
played all over the place, especially on one high tension cable, running back
and forth in a daring race to improve his speeds (how his cousin yearned to
follow his lead!) going faster and faster just to be able to better the records
that he had made.
