Originally published in FIYAH Magazine. Copyright © 2017

The Breeze in the Boughs
(A bit of a parody of The Wind in the Willows)

Squirrel had been spending the afternoon scrambling about the front yard hunting through the grass for fallen acorns dropped from the branches of the nearby tree, then filling his cheeks to bursting and running up the fence to his comfortable home that he shared with his grandfather. Up and down and up again he went in preparations for the winter to come, storing his findings neatly into their storage compartment within the trunk while Grandfather Squirrel busied himself baking loaves of his best acorn bread.

As the cool of dusk descended hinting at the end of the day, Squirrel noticed a new neighbor moving about in the empty lot over which the bough of his tree hung. The building on that lot had been uninhabited by humans for quite some time, and yet this was the first sign that any small animal would choose to occupy it as the yard had grown wild and dense with inedible weeds.

Back and forth went Rat, opening new holes by the wooden cover of a missing window to the abandoned building’s basement so that it could move easily to and from the garbage containers of the building next door. A fat juicy creature, Rat seemed used to having his fill at suppertime, and so it was no wonder that the door he made needed to be large. Squirrel observed Rat for a long while. After he stored the last of his daily gatherings of acorns he decided to say hello. Rat responded to his greeting with a smirk, as if Squirrel had done a laughable thing, then returned to continue on with his business as if nothing had been said.

Feeling slighted—because he had been— Squirrel returned home a bit upset. He couldn’t understand how a simple greeting wouldn’t be returned, and what made his attempt at being friendly so amusing. He wondered if maybe he appeared funny, and checked if he had something silly sticking on his fur, which of course, he didn’t.

The scent of freshly baked acorn bread smelled glorious along the bough. Once he entered his home, Squirrel hurried to help himself to a slice, spreading on a healthy gob of blueberry jam. He then sat and ate his supper quietly at the table opposite his grandfather who was having his tea and reading a copy of Critter Times News, a monthly periodical for the small animals of the borough.

“Grandfather,” Squirrel said, and put down his bread, “did you know that a rat was moving in next door?”

“Hmm?” Grandfather said, still engrossed in an article.

“A rat,” Squirrel repeated. “A rat is moving in next door.”

“Oh,” Grandfather said. “Not surprising. It says right here that the new stadium the humans are building down the street is forcing many of the rats to scatter about to find new homes.”

“I see,” Squirrel said, and continued eating thoughtfully. Then he said, “I just met him, or tried to meet him, and he seems rather rude.”

“Yes, yes, rats often are,” Grandfather said, “Don’t you mind him. Rats usually have a high sense of themselves. You would think they didn’t know they have the most disgusting habits of all the small animals.”

“Do you think he’ll only stay a little while, and return to where he came from once the stadium is done?”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Grandfather said. “There was a time when a rat wouldn’t be seen anywhere near an area like ours. Not good enough for them. They like the hustle and bustle of the street corners and gutters and such. Now they come to live among their lessers. Why, I would think they wouldn’t want to be here too long. Once the trend of being in such sleepy places is over, they’ll move on to someplace more exciting.”

“I hope so,” Squirrel said, and went back to eating his bread, quiet and thoughtful.

***

Squirrel never attempted to speak to Rat again and remained on the fence as he passed, scurrying down to gather his acorns only when Rat was well out of sight. He felt put out to be altering his daily routine because of his new neighbor, but Squirrel decided that life would be more pleasant by avoiding the disagreeable creature.

As the days went by, Squirrel observed the industrious rat continuing to run back and forth preparing his new home, installing cable and internet connections, moving in furniture, and setting up the luxuries of an animal of expensive tastes. The way Rat carried on it seemed as if he assumed the whole area belonged to him. He moved rocks to his suiting and changed the positions of the flaps in the fence that Squirrel himself had positioned years ago. Squirrel also observed with distaste after Rat rummaged through the human’s garbage for his meals that he left bones and open soup cans and other such detritus lying about, leaving a mess for others to clean. To have their humble little yard, home to only a few small animals, treated so shabbily by someone who had only just arrived had Squirrel fuming.

Cat sitting on his window sill and Squirrel down on the grass underneath found themselves chatting one afternoon, as they were longtime friends and neighbors, when the subject of Rat came up. They both agreed that the yard felt less friendly now that he had arrived.

“It’s like he thinks he owns the whole yard,” Cat said.

“Yes, it’s true,” Squirrel replied. “And so unfriendly.”

“I even heard he was rude to Grackle and nearly pushed Pigeon aside to move past.”

“Never!” Squirrel said. “Oh, and that shouldn’t surprise me. He moves in and doesn’t take the time to get to know anyone, or learn how we like to do things. He just pushes things about to his liking with no consideration for anyone.”

“If only I could go outside,” Cat mewed mournfully, as his humans always kept him indoors. “I would show him a thing or two.”

“It’s just as well,” said Squirrel. “Animals like him are not really worth your time. Grandfather says Rat will learn the hard way when he finds he needs a neighbor for something.”

***

The days grew ever shorter and the leaves on the trees turned orange and golden yellow then drifted slowly to the ground, covering the grass in blankets of crisp refuse. A nip of freeze touched the air and the fur on small animals thickened. Having completely filled his winter stores, Squirrel spent less and less time outside. He and Grandfather Squirrel occupied most of their days reading, listening to jazz, and writing poetry. The quiet broke only when one would recite of a line or two they thought well done, to the contentment or laughter of the other. In this, Squirrel and Grandfather remained a compatible pair and hardly at odds with the other. Life in the tree maintained its peaceful, charming existence all during the fall months—that is until the squeaks and squeals of Rat and his kind began.

No one realized that Rat had moved so many into his new domicile. It seemed as if they had usurped the neighborhood overnight. It was quite unheard of in this area for so many small animals to occupy such a tiny space. And at night they liked to come out and jump about, fat and full, screeching and dancing by the light of the moon, crashing in and out of the garbage cans, banging on the tin lids.

“What a terrible racket!” Grandfather said, holding his ears.

“Those rats,” Squirrel said. “The Maker forgive me, I can’t stand them.”

“The humans will quiet them.”

“You think so? How?”

“Who knows? But it won’t be pleasant, I’ll tell you.”

As the noise continued into the wee hours of the morning, Squirrel thought about how pleasant life used to be in the bygone days not long ago when his home felt kind and welcoming. And he wondered if life would ever return to the way it once was.

***

With its usual ease, autumn soon gave way to winter’s chill and light clusters of crystalline snow drifted from the heavens like dove feathers. A hush of white covered the yard like a blanket and every sensible small animal remained tucked in their homes for a long, seasonal nap. Yet, on the shortest day of the year, all squirrel-kind celebrated a holiday with much fuss and excitement. Many traveled far and wide to the home of their eldest relative to give good cheer, eat tasty foods, and introduce the newest and youngest members of the family. Squirrel and Grandfather busied themselves for days and days in preparation for the appearance of the aunts and uncles and sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews who should soon come bundled with cakes and pies and many kinds of savory dishes to the delight and satisfaction of everyone’s taste buds and stomachs. It could easily be said that this day on the squirrel calendar was the most anticipated of all the days of the year. It was a time of deep appreciation for the good fortune of living and family and friends.

When the squirrels arrived, jolly in thick coats against the cold, there was much hugging and patting on shoulders and “how are things goings on?” and “this one was born this past spring” and “that one in late fall.” The tree was jammed full with happy squirrels eating acorn cakes and acorn breads with blueberry jam, juicy and sweet ground nut pies, and mugs of mulled berry wine emptied and refilled to the joy and contentment of everyone.

Once all were well roasted, or one could say tipsy on happiness, the time of singing began—because, to be perfectly honest, to find oneself in the midst the chittering songs of squirrels one must be three sheets to the wind to enjoy it. And enjoy it they did, as they sang Winter’s Day songs muffled deep within the trunk of the tree until sleep slowly overtook them and snores replaced the cheer.

Bright and early the next day, the children received gifts of toys to their joy and excitement. Once the little ones were off to play in the lower rooms of the tree, serious subjects could be discussed among the adults and the topic of the rat encroachment came up. Rat’s arrival had been the talk of the area and even reached far enough to catch the ears of the squirrel relatives who were most concerned for the welfare of Squirrel and Grandfather.

I don’t think it’s any way for you to live,” one aunt said.

“They have taken over this area and other areas as well,” an uncle said.

“They must make life so unpleasant for you,” a niece said.

“Once they move in, they push everyone out,” another said.

“You must take Rat in hand,” an elder sister said, sitting in a chair, round and stately. “You must make him understand how to live more properly.”

“Yes, you really really should, Grandfather.”

“And what if the humans begin to take action?”

“When the humans decide to do something, it will bring danger to all the small animals of the area.”

“Have they done anything so far?”

“They have done very little as of yet,” Squirrel said.

“Why, I say, that won’t last.”

“Well, we can’t do anything now,” Grandfather replied, looking stern and thoughtful, to the agreement of everyone, as it was commonly understood by all animals that movement or fuss or exertion of any kind during the winter months was not something anyone was expected to perform. “But come spring, we should take Rat in hand.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Squirrel said, “I do believe we should.”

***

By springtime, just as the squirrel relatives had predicted, the humans went to work on ridding themselves of Rat and his company. They dusted all the corners with a sour, metallic scented white powder so that Squirrel made sure to walk along the top of the fence whenever he dared to venture outside. They even cut down the very fine irises that came up so beautifully purple and sweet once a year along the base of the fence, and mixed broken glass into the soil.

Often Squirrel could hear a human banging at the tins to scatter six or seven plump rats from the garbage. But honestly nothing did anything to deter Rat and his kind as they were persistent rodents and would come back within minutes of the human walking away. The human put out small comfortable looking homes in convenient corners with bits of tasty smelling food inside that some of the youngster rats, unaware of the ways of the world, nibbled at to their demise. As horrible as Squirrel found Rat, his heart broke to see his little ones caught by such a cruel end.

Despite the efforts of the humans, the rats continued to flood the yard and the adjoining yards in greater and greater numbers. The once friendly pleasantness of the area ceased to exist with the scatterings of trash and other unsightly leavings of Rat and his people. It became so that many small animals simply moved away.

“The hour has come,” Grandfather declared one fine sunny morning.

“What hour?” Squirrel replied, feeling nervous at this sudden declaration.

“The hour of Rat,” Grandfather said. “I said come the springtime we should take him in hand, and I mean to do that this very morning.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Squirrel said cheerily. “I’ll gather some our friends and neighbors and we’ll make Rat understand how to be a sensible animal.”

And so they did. It was quite a remarkable thing for Grandfather to leave the tree trunk as he had not traveled so far in many seasons. The taxing journey had Squirrel fretting the entire way as he carefully guided his elder down the safest path along the boughs of the tree to the fence then finally to the open yard. Although all felt the treat of Grandfather’s presence—as many had not seen him in person in quite some time—a dour cloud overcast the assemblage as he and Squirrel, Grackle, Pigeon, and Cat from his window perch gathered to address the very serious issue of Rat.

It was put upon Raccoon to encourage Rat to attend that gathering because of his size and slightly intimidating visage. And with all the pertinent parties present the intervention began with Grandfather taking the lead in addressing the situation given his elder status.

“Rat, it is time you heard some truth about yourself. Your behavior since your arrival is most intolerable and it really must stop. Your inconsiderate treatment of the small animals of the area is beyond decent standards of behavior. Your screeching and yowling until all hours of the night, the banging of the garbage tins, and leavings of refuse within the yard is quite insufferable. Can’t you see the danger your behavior could bring down upon us?” Grandfather said firmly to the serious nods of the animals present.

Squirrel noticed a glimmer in Rat’s eyes that hinted at bemusement, and he thought, This is no good. Rat doesn’t care about anything.

“So, do you agree to stop your rows and misbehaviors and scatterings of litter and whatnots?”

Rat, who had remained silent during the entire proceedings, stood on his hind legs and with an air of superiority said, “Shan’t.”

“What?” replied Grandfather.

“Shan’t,” Rat repeated. “I shall continue to be as I like where I like for as long as I like. Who are you to tell me how to live? I will come and go and do as I please. You people don’t own the yard. You, in fact, don’t own anything. I have moved in and you will simply have to adjust yourselves to the way I do things.” Then Rat turned his back and haughtily walked away to everyone’s consternation.

***

The yard became so morose that one afternoon Squirrel said to Grandfather, “Maybe we should move.”

“What? I’ve been here all my life. Generations of us Squirrels have lived in this very tree. And we’re comfortable here.”

“But Grandfather, I can barely collect acorns for us for sake of the poison. And so many of our friends are gone. All the small animals we used to like so much can’t stay here anymore because the rats have taken all the decent places to live.”

“Yes, I know, I know, that’s all true but maybe the humans will figure out something to make Rat leave. ”

“Whatever they do seems to make our lives miserable, and barely fazes Rat. I tell you, Grandfather, I’m beginning to hate it here.”

“Well, I don’t want to go. This is our home.”

“Will you at least give it some thought? Home shouldn’t be someplace you have to fight to be happy in.”

And just as Squirrel uttered these words a loud crash could be heard from outside.

Humans had come dressed in the brightest of yellows with the name of the city imprinted on them in large block letters on their backs, and their faces covered in white masks. They descended like a hellion pack with long, sharp metal knives. These were not the humans who usually inhabited the area. These officials from the government had come to clear the abandoned yard, which had grown into a wild forest of thick green weeds that only Rat and his kin dared to tread. Squirrel and Grandfather stared down in horror as the chopping commenced. The humans cut and grabbed at the unsuspecting rat clan, some caught by their long tails to squeal in terror for help that could not come. The horrible sound caused Squirrel to slam close their front door while Grandfather covered his ears in a vain attempt to block out the shrieks.

The melee went on for hours and hours while Grandfather and Squirrel huddled together in silence with eyes wide with dread. Then a smell came seeping through the cracks in the windows and around the door frame, so that the pair hurried to stuff exposed areas where the poison slipped through with strips of cloth. Still the chemical scent permeated, but fortunately while it choked the breath, it proved non-lethal, at least to them.

As the light of day grew dim, a menacing quiet filled the evening such that Grandfather and Squirrel spoke only in whispers if they spoke at all. They ate their supper in silence and went to bed early, both spending the night dreaming dark disturbing dreams.

The next morning as the sun rose in a haze of orange and pink, Squirrel dared to open the front door and to step outside onto the bough, followed tentatively by Grandfather. The land beneath them lay blackened and barren. The roots of the weeds pulled up, and the soil turned over. The dampness of the morning mixed with the poison to cast an eerie mist over the ground. And not a rat could be seen or heard anywhere.

Thus ended the occupation of Rat and his kin. The small animals of the area did not celebrate their demise, though. In fact, quite the opposite. The neighborhood remained sorrowful for a long time and only wished that Rat had been more willing to listen and share in a peaceful coexistence with all those who called this place home.