Dear Wood Warbler,
Thank you for your letter! I have been looking at the squirrel in my garden, to work out if he is as slow and intoxicated as your squirrel. But no, it turns out mine is as manic as usual (although definitely getting fat).
Actually, I thought I was developing quite a soulful relationship with my squirrel earlier this week. He kept coming up to the glass door into the kitchen, while I was working at the kitchen table. I gazed at him, he gazed back. It was like he was trying to tell me something. Pretty soon I became convinced that I was in the beginning of a White Fang-like story. I would soon become a squirrel whisperer, taking him around in my pocket, on trips in my bicycle basket…
It was several hours before I went into the garden, and saw that I’d left a bird feeder full of nuts on the step by the door, just hidden from view. He was coming up the steps to stuff himself, not to develop a really beautiful telepathic relationship with me.
Today I noticed he is looking pretty wide, after his massive binge, but is still as brisk & twitchy as usual, doing his usual trapeze artist thing, just a slightly wobblier version than usual. The feeder is now out of reach. He keeps trying it from all different angles. I’m not sure if he’s an optimist or just quite stupid.
Anyway, his lack of drunkenness makes me wonder if your countryside squirrels have found something particularly intoxicating to feast on.
PS Did you know the collective noun for squirrels is a scurry?
PPS I meant to write to you about pigeons, but I haven’t got round to that yet. I have, however discovered two amazing facts about pigeons. One that the low budget 1948 London Olympics involved the release of 2,500 pigeons, which I think is quite splendid. The other one… I’ll tell you next week. I’m going to go to Trafalgar Square, the epicentre of pigeon life, to try and find the most pigeony of them all.
PPPS I’ve heard rumours that you write poetry, sometimes even poems about nature. Do you have any evidence of this?