I was walking along a wooded ridge top trail years ago when a young fox squirrel fell from a limb above me and landed with a thud not more than ten feet from my boots. He didn’t waste any time leaving but he would have been a goner if I had wanted to shoot him. I just couldn’t do it. The little rascal had hidden in that treetop well enough to keep me from seeing him, but his curiosity had caused him to lose his balance and his dignity at the same time. As I walked on down the trail he sat on the limb of a nearby oak and barked at me. In my younger years I would have been less forgiving of that kind of insolence, and he would have ended up in a potful of dumplings.
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