🐾You Want to Play Chicken?
There he was.
Right in the middle of the path.
Again.
I was riding my bicycle through town when I saw him standing in the grass,
a little something clutched between his paws.
He saw me.
I saw him.
There was plenty of room.
He could have gone left.
He could have gone right.
He could have stayed exactly where he was.
Instead,
looked straight at me,
and seemed to say,
“You want to play chicken?”
I kept pedaling.
He kept staring.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
And then—
GO!
Across the path he flew,
his enormous tail streaming behind him.
“SQUIRREL!”
He shot right in front of my tire and up the nearest tree.
The squirrels in my town are daredevils.
If I am riding toward a tree,
they scurry down it.
If they are already on the ground,
they race up it.
If they are safely on one side of the path,
they suddenly discover an urgent need to be on the other.
And if a bicycle is coming?
Even better.
Every squirrel seems absolutely certain that he is faster than I am.
So far,
they have been right.
