Scamper-Thump

Binky Ochrefur, the youngest of a busy gray squirrel family, had always been fascinated by humans, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. They were dangerous creatures. He often attempted to peer over the edge of the nest to spy on them, but every time Mother caught him snooping, she would scold, “Binky! Come back, come back—they might see you!”

In their cozy nest tucked high in the branches of the sprawling oak tree off of Otto Lane, there lived: Mother, Gladys, Preedy, Nix and Trix and Lolli, and Binky.

It was early November in their neck of the world. The wind was crispy and mischievous. The air smelled damp and rich, like an overripe pumpkin. The neighboring maples were almost finished shedding their autumn costumes of red, orange, and gold. The days were growing shorter, and the Ochrefurs were busy-busy-busy.

Binky had finally been given a grown-up job—gathering leaves to freshen the nest—and he was anxious to do it well. Many of the branches were already bare, and the few leaves left on their tree were starting to get crunchy, which always made for an itchy bed.

While searching the limbs for anything useful, Binky got distracted. He spotted a tall human, well in the distance, gathering leaves into a pile—presumably to freshen its own dwelling box. It used a long stick that had a big rigid net attached to it, in a sweeping motion, scooping large amounts of flora all at once. Clever—like a shepherd’s crook for leaves. But how did he sort the good leaves from the itchy/mildewy/pokey ones? In the end, Binky decided he preferred his own selective approach better.

It was during this contemplation that he spotted it—a grouping of perfect oak leaves on the ground near their tree. They must have fallen prematurely from the windstorm the night before. They were green and supple, and the velvety underside was spongy and soft—Mother’s favorite. Mother didn’t like Binky climbing down the tree. However, Binky decided that since the cluster of leaves was right at the base of the tree and since it would take him one little moment to retrieve them, he started making his way down.

He had never climbed all the way down the tree before, and it was harder to do than he expected with his special leg. Mother said his special leg helped make his other paws stronger, and it was true. Binky could crack a nut faster than even Trix, but it made balancing more difficult. Lolli had suggested trying to alternate his legs and paws—right paw with left leg, left paw with right leg—to help him balance. And it had helped, but it was still awkward. So Binky had figured out his own distinctive trick of using his tail to help prop himself up—like a built-in crutch. Instead of making the scamper-scamper-swish, scamper-scamper-swish sound his brother and sisters made when they climbed, Binky made a scamper-thump, scamper-thump, scamper-thump sound. But it worked enough.

And so, concentrating on the prized leaf cluster, Binky clutched the rough textured bark and slowly scamper-thumped down the tree. Five more steps. Four … three, two …. A grin spread his furry cheeks wide as he hopped off the trunk and twitched his tail in triumph. The cluster of leaves rustled in the breeze, but to Binky it sounded like applause. It was only after he had grabbed the branch in his jaw that he noticed a pair of large blue eyes staring into his own only a few paces away!

Binky’s mind scrambled—was he supposed to freeze or run? Or was it that he was supposed to chatter for help? Binky decided to freeze—hoping he hadn’t been seen. Heart thumping in his chest, Binky allowed only his eyes to roam to analyze the creature.

It was a two-legger. A human.

Three two-leggers lived in the structure next to Binky’s tree. The biggest one had fur that covered only his cheeks and chin. That was the one gathering leaves in a pile. The medium human who lived there had long golden head fur that hung down its back. But the human in front of Binky now was the littlest one of the group, the one that liked to climb the lower branches of the Ochrefur’s tree and scare his mother half to death.  

Binky and the two-legger lay motionless in the grass, a mere acorn’s throw away, regarding each other. It was on its belly, resting its chin on its hands. Binky had never been this close to a human before, and he noticed that this one had little dots sprinkled across its nose and cheeks. Those must be its distinctive markings—to help its mother know which little human belonged to her. It hardly had any fur showing today, except for a small stripe over each eye. It was wearing something fuzzy on its head that was maybe supposed to look like fur, but it didn’t fool Binky—he knew fur didn’t come in green and blue stripes. Binky felt sorry for it—poor human—it didn’t come equipped with its own warming coat.

“One less reason to trust them,” Mother would have probably said.

Binky, however, thought it was clever how humans made up for their shortcomings. Just like he had figured out his tail-balance trick, this two-legger had figured out a trick to stay warm, despite lacking in fur.

After twenty anxious breaths, Binky started second-guessing if it was a living, breathing creature. Lolli had told Binky about a deer that she had been afraid of for the longest time until she had accidently bumped into it only to discover it was a plastic statue! Maybe this was a sculpture of the little human and was made out of plastic too! It truly hadn’t moved in a very long time.

Relaxing his stance, Binky took a cautious step in the two-legger’s direction. He crept closer and closer until his tail was within swishing distance. One touch would confirm that this was, indeed, an inanimate object. He reached out his fluffy appendage and quickly swiped it across the sculpture’s cheek.

At that moment, the creature opened its mouth and let out a giant SNEEEEEEZE!

Real human! Real human! Binky flew a foot in the air and forgot all this training. “Run! Run! Run!” his nerves commanded him. Abandoning his leaves, he ran—scamper-thump, scamper-thump all the way up the tree, chattering noisily until he curled up, trembling, under the safety of his mother’s tail.