Hey, do ever think about the trees? They live a hundred lifetimes in comparison to a dog like me, but what respect do they get?
What ever life sends their way, they just stand there and take it, no talking back. They are not the youth of today :), or like Momma’s Aunt Malvina, who had enough tongue for ten rows of teeth. And they are not similar to me, whining, groaning, barking at the first offense.
I just don’t know what I would do, how I would react if some male dog lifted his hind leg and watered my trunk…..or dribbled on it. I would be fast and furious, like those Butterflies in South America would hear me.
Now some trees are a freak of nature, like the oak tree whose acorns may be scattered by a wind that plants its seed in an unsuspecting, fertile flower bed. And then again, some are saplings from a greenhouse, transplanted under perfect conditions in parks, in lawns, or graveyards, where ever there is a need for a big, old tree that is going to be a home for nests, hidden among the thick leaves, that see the same birds return, year after year.
It is a Magic Kingdom for chatty squirrels who zip up tree trunks, away from barking, snarling dogs or even roaming cats that can’t find a bird or mouse to chase. That the like of Mr. Grey Squirrel and his ilk, hide among the leaves, screaming, ‘You can’t catch me,’ is an aberration and just not acceptable. I give up. I am not going to waste my breath chasing them anymore, no matter how they try to seduce me by dive bombing me, leaping over my back to the tree trunk. When I was younger, I fell for it. Now, I give them that sanctimonious stare I am famous for. More than that, I am sure I saw a Raccoons kit or was it an itty-bitty opossum, in a tree trunk hole, peeking out to see what all the fuss was about, as the squirrels were racing up the tree trunk, screaming like banshee.
Now oak trees do not sprout over night. They can be massive in height and width of branches, providing shade from the scorching summer sun. It appears to me the bigger they grow, the more likely they may be taken down by high winds from snow storms, hurricanes or, as in our case, an ice storm that left trees as brittle as bones without calcium. I swear, I covered my ears with my fluffy paws to drown out the crackling, booming noises as the branches succumbed to the weight of ice the day of the storm, and the whole week after. It is as close as I ever want to be to a war zone.
There was one tree that always intrigued me. It seemed to whisper as I walked past, ‘Hi Jakita, good to see you, caught any squirrels lately?’ I am ashamed to tell you, I ignored the tree, sailed by it, my tail in the air. And now, well it is history, Gone, Baby, Gone, because after the storm blew through, it took conservationists and arborists to decide the fate of which trees were damaged beyond salvation.
First walk after the Big Ice Storm, (it took months of clean up we were left back in the graveyard), I noticed an orange circle on the tree trunk. A few weeks later, it had been cut down. Yet the trunk still is about eight feet high, with a massive hole so little animals, birds, opossums or kit can hide away from danger. It is not a perfect solution but there is no stopping Mother Nature and the Two Footed are big on Elmo, The Safety Elephant. At least the Mighty Oak Tree can say, ‘I Lived and I laughed, Saw sunsets glow.’
Life comes in so many odd and peculiar ways and it is our job to embrace them all.
So…. next time you see a tree, tell it how much you respect its’ contribution to society.
Trees not only whisper, they listen, they inspire. Listen closely and sometimes they even SHOUT!.
