Spring is definitely in the air lately. The snow has disappeared, and the animals have emerged from their winter slumber to recharge their batteries after an especially long winter.
The other morning after breakfast, my daughter and I stood at the window to scan the great outdoors. A rabbit was contentedly enjoying a snack beneath a bird feeder while two mourning doves perched on the deck railing. They devotedly nuzzled their faces together as the the first hints of daylight warmed their downy backs.
A woodpecker flew from a tree to enjoy a little suet. And then, in full view, there were two squirrels frantically fucking in the middle of my back yard. I don’t mean to be indelicate, but I can assure you that they were NOT making love. There was no romance, nor sweet nothings. Mr. Squirrel didn’t bring her flowers.
There were many questions, mostly pertaining to who they were and what they were doing. She’s trying to figure out family order these days. “Is one a grandpa and one an uncle?” Oh honey, I don’t think so.
“I think they're looking for nuts!” In a manner of speaking, that is more correct than you even understand, dear. “Daddy, Daddy, they’re playing leapfrog!” I settled on that being the explanation. “Yeah, looks like they’re playing leapfrog. Wanna go watch Sesame Street, now?”
Perhaps it was two male squirrels after all. They all pretty much look the same to me. I’m taking a fairly educated guess (based solely on biology class) about who was whom in their little mambo, but I could be wrong. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if I am.
Growing up in a farming region, it wasn’t uncommon to drive past a farm and see a cow riding another cow out in the pasture. Poor dairy cows. They incarcerate them without male company and I guess it gets lonely. A dairy farm is a lot like a women’s prison, if you think about it.
And trust me, I watched a lot of Cinemax after 10 pm during my teenage years. I’ve seen plenty of movies about women’s prisons. PLENTY. I know what happens in those places.
I respect animals because they don’t generally care what they look like. They simply don’t have a natural awareness of their own appearance. So when it comes to going out in public or finding a mate, they seem to just go forth confidently with what they have and let nature take care of the rest.
In the realm of people, there is no doubt that physical attraction plays a more dominant role in what makes us tick. Though it doesn't seem to be the case with squirrels, people take the time to get to know one another and consider other factors that can enhance or detract from an initial attraction.
In my way of thinking, attractive people never see themselves as attractive as others might see them. Conversely, people are never considered as unattractive by others as they fear they might be.
In other words, short of a horrible personality, general evil tendencies, or wanton disregard for basic hygiene, everyone has a fighting chance in the big, wide world.
People get too down on themselves sometimes. Here's a good rule of thumb that should be employed when a case of the blues settles in: If you can go to the circus and not be confused for either an employee or sideshow act, you’re probably okay.
Having recently attended a circus, I did take note that no children approached and asked me to make a balloon animal, nor ran shrieking in horror. Based on that highly scientific data, I’m feeling a little better about myself these days.
Being a human ain’t always easy, but I have to say that it sure seems much easier than being a squirrel. Nature made it pretty easy for us to tell the boys from the girls.
Sure, there are probably some very convincing trannies out there, but for the most part a guy can enjoy a walk at the park and meet a nice young lady without being utterly confused.
Or in the case of the lonely dairy cows, udderly confused.
