I work in a very old building, at least by American standards. It’s pre-civil war. There was a catastrophic fire in our little town long, long ago, and a local philanthropist offered to (if I have this right) Roof People’s Houses For Free. I guess a big risk-factor for burning down at the time was roofing shingles. I know beans about the history of roofs, so I’m thinking maybe they were wood or tar paper. There’s a lot of slate around here though… Anyway, Philanthropist Guy offered clay tile roofs – the fireproof wave of the future – for next to nothing.
Which is why the building I work in has a tile roof. Otherwise known as: Squirrel Condos.
I really like the squirrels, and don’t mind them (or the birds) living up there at all. I’m inside, they’re outside; all is just ducky.
Because this is a suburban environment, there are various electrical, phone & cable wires strung from the tops of structures to a number of telephone poles. In a marvelous example of adaptive behavior, the squirrels have made the one outside my window their super-highway.
Even this one squirrel who’s missing part of his tail gets around up there. If you’re a city dweller, you might wonder what animals have tails for. I’ll tell you: balance. So Stubby is like the weaving drunk who you think you should help cross the street, but maybe he’s ok on his own… nope: going over… no, he’s got it… maybe… whew, he’s across.
Squirrel has his day all planned out. He has regular errands, and lurches madly across the wire outside my window about once an hour. If he chimed, you could call him a grandfather squirrel. And though I have entertained notions of going outside with a catcher’s mitt on occasion Just in Case, so far he has performed his high-wire antics admirably.
I love nature.