Sqirrels Facinate Resident Artist

After dinner, as was our custom, we sat on the cabin front porch and watched the clouds, the distant hills, discussed the weather, observed the shifting light, followed the movements of noisy Magpies as they flew from perch to perch, the Snowshoe Hares as they darted in and out of nearby shrubs, and the pesky squirrels who lived under the deck. After awhile I realized that the squirrel activity had changed dramatically, instead of feeding they were hauling huge loads of dried grass into the holes under the wooden stoop. They ran back and forth with amazing speed, never letting up, and each time before ducking under the aging planks they stopped for a brief second, stood upright and looked directly in our direction. Then, in a split second they dropped down on all four feet and began stashing the grassy stacks into the cache. Back and forth they ran, tirelessly, and were still working when we retired for the night. What did they know? What caused the change? Survival instinct is inbred in the wilderness and something that we seem to have lost the more civilized we become.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence