Woodland Brigand

He follows swiftly, determinedly shadowing
us, to challenge our presence, that blackly
furred mite, for this is his place and we come
bearing gifts. Your swag or your life! he charges
toward us. Our toy poodle feels himself to be
more than capable of defending us all, but no
need. Stumpy pulls up just short of our boots
and swivels his absent tail in avid expectation.

We fumble to discard those peanuts whose
shells are inadequate, searching for large,
plump specimens suitable to proffer toward
his nimble awareness. Secure in his clever paws,
her permits our departure. Then hunts us down,
time and again, as we proceed along the leaf-deep
forest trails, dispensing nuts elsewhere for
discerningly anxious but nowhere-near-as
existentially precocious squirrels as is he.

He is disarmingly amusing, cleverly self-
availing. Aware of the caches, yet deigning to
approach straight to the source of the deposits.
Where the crowds of squirrels that converge
in our wake share a dim associative recognition
of our presence and purpose equating with
largess, he alone instantly understands
the relationship; no mystery to him.

His homage secured, he turns his back to us
and leap-frogs over stumps and branches,
his short fluffy fur where a long furry tail
should be, winking whitely at us,
like an impish rabbit, swiftly receding...

Until next time, when he confronts us once
again, demanding stand-and-deliver!
And we most certainly will - the brazen little
highway-squib. Our very own, up close and
quite magisterially personable, wonderfully
well adapted woodland brigand.