Like a high wire artist, the squirrel danced lightly across the top of the cyclone fence, tail switching fiercely and never looking down. He reached the tree and with a powerful and graceful leap, flew across the open space to a branch several feet away. Making a secure but delicate landing, he immediately raced toward the top, never hesitating a moment about how to do it, just going from limb to limb with enviable speed and agility. Reaching the highest tree branch, he spun and made one remarkable leap to the rooftop then disappeared across the shingles, a blur of gray against a background of bright blue sky.
It occurred to me that I have never seen a squirrel fall or even falter. Their combination of speed and confident surefootedness is artistry, like ariel ballet dancing, a choreographed dance through the trees and rooftops and along the power wires. More Gene Kelley than Fred Astair but dancing nevertheless - and all done without a net. Squirrels have no fear of falling, they are risk takers, willing to go out on a limb for the next nut, willing to fly without wings. I find myself wondering if there might not be a lesson here, perhaps about stepping out and getting it done without considering the risk of failure, about taking chances and not being held back by fear or apprehension. Maybe a lesson about how important it is to keep your balance - I once read If you're on the ladder of success, don't step back to admire your work.
On the other hand, squirrels may have something far more basic to teach us - like the value of looking both ways before you cross the street.
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