This morning on the back patio while Kitty Andersen and I were sorting pine straw for craft projects (I know, my life is glamorous and magical and you wish you were me) we were found ourselves in the front row of a spectacular show.

The curtain went up to a great and brief left over rain shower when one squirrel leapt onto the winged elm branch dispatching all pooled water from recent storms from its leaves onto the tin roof.

Landing in the rubber tree a single blue jay called to his friends. First, he nattered, almost clucking, I had never heard a blue jay do that before. Then he let loose his powerful ear-splitting screech. It was this call that produced another, then another. The meeting was called to order. There was disagreement, as there always is at these things, resolution, some discussion and then eventually adjournment, but not before one attendant stomped off in a huff.

While the remaining executives were in the throes of their strategy, five squirrels rushed across the top of the fence, stage right, the first one stopping short with each one following bumping into the next, and one less than present fella tumbling to the ground. They regrouped and continued along behind the bushes, the rubber tree – we lost one to the rubber tree, seems even squirrels have squirrel moments – then on to the orange tree. All the while they chattered and giggled.

The blue jays squawked directly at the fuzzy gray mammals causing them to stop and look around while wringing their hands as if to say, “Wait, shhhh, did you hear something?” When the answer was clearly no, they continued on.

This went on for quite some time. Kitty Andersen abandoned her sorting duties for a better seat atop the stone elephant. Not until the jays flew away and the squirrels pounded across the tin roof to the other side of the house, did she feel ready to get back to work.

Perhaps tomorrow Mr. and Mrs. C will make a guest appearance.