Graduating Squirrels

It’s graduation season, and over the past few days, we’ve had four young squirrels graduate from their drey to our garden. Their mother (a beautiful, chunky, slightly beleaguered-looking female– as many a good mother is) has been a regular at our feeders for a while and, last week, she introduced her children to our yard.

I haven’t knowingly observed juvenile squirrels before. The first thing that set them apart was that there was a group of them and it was mixed– some males and some females; I’ve seen groups of squirrels (apparently called “scurries”) before, but not mixed. Also, these four were talkative– making lots of chattering, buzzing sounds amongst themselves.

Individually, the young squirrels were bright-eyed and bold, climbing unnecessarily high and practicing branch jumping. Near the feeder though, they were tentative, not quite sure how to stretch so they could reach without slipping. I watched them for hours. Literally, hours (wildlife watching doesn’t seem all that engrossing til you try it).

And I took photos of them, of course. They didn’t mind my being nearby, or my camera; I wonder if their mother taught them I’m a safe human.

It felt like a privilege to get to watch them.

And like perfect timing. I’ve been thinking about a friend of mine who is graduating (and another dear friend, her mother, who is graduating her). I’ve been trying to think of the right words to gift them, to show them how proud I am to know both of them.

But maybe the best thing I can give them is the testimony that I saw them? That I watched them. In the same awed-quiet, delighted way I watch the squirrel family, glimpsing a bit of their inner workings from the outside.

I saw A be scrappy and vulnerable; incisive and funny; kind-hearted. I saw C be constant and unconditional; patient; inspiring and thoughtful. Though different in temperaments, both of them are remarkable. They are two of my favorite humans and their characters are shaped in relationship to each other.

Maybe witness isn’t much as gifts go, but it’s not nothing, noticing. Attention is affection, after all…and our eyes betray our preoccupations and our hearts.