.

Splaying out over mom's ample girth, it was a game of tag. Then hide and seek. Defying gravity, long fingernails gripping, the black one, and a grey one. The laughter of squirrels has to be seen to be heard. And amidst swelling buds with no stake in the game ~ the play's the thing.

Circus barkers both, before and after, they ballyhoo no silver maple nuts. There will be no burial. From time to time though, half-eaten, an avocado lands on the lawn. But we don't have an avocado tree. Scavenged food is worth its weight in chatter.

Let's call them Yin and Yang, to tell them apart, even though Yang tends to blend with the tree trunk. Yin is black. Yang is the one who listens, now having become, along with robin and the doves, and the Junco kids getting bigger, one of the regular visitors.

For years I've maintained a dish of seeds, and one of water, and bits of walnut scattered on the fence. After I've been reading or writing for awhile, late in the afternoon before sunset, they arrive, and pretty much together somehow. More than once I've wondered. Living far flung and independent lives, how do they decide when to come?

The answer came in a bemused moment: It's a zoo! For an observation deck, where visitors gather to be entertained, we have the fence. My chair is just opposite the water-dish-moat. I talk to them.

This smoothed the way to recognize how well the yard is arranged for the visitors. How convenient. Back in the corner is where the observation deck ends. Right there are two essential pathways. The first, growing in the yard, is a primitive pine. The other, just over the fence, is a telephone pole. From either of these to the observation deck is just a short hop. And running across the pole yard arm is a cable that passes through many yards and trees, a veritable freeway. So the pole and the pine are two freeway ramps.

Yang took an interest in the bird bath. Water! Actually, it's just a flower pot saucer set up on a stand meant for a potted plant. Not a rock solid arrangement, but it supports birds.

First I heard the rattle, then a great splash. Looking up just in time, I saw it all come down! Landing upright and feet first, Yang fell to earth with a pained expression, not really describable. Altogether a surprise, then anger, remorse, embarrassment, ending with a brief glance in my direction. A hasty exit.

Next day Yang was absent the usual entertainment.

Ah, well. Bygones will be bygones. Yang returned finally, and at the somehow agreed time along with the rest.

Now our communication is more two-way. What I have to say is worth paying attention to. It can't all be put to words, but think if you've known a dog or a cat, or a horse or a banty rooster, how you could swear they almost talk.

As Yang was munching a bit of walnut on the fence, Yin scrambled down the off ramp and proceeded a short way. Not very far. It wasn't about a walnut bit, or seeds, or water. Yin said, “C'mon! Let's play!” But Yang didn't respond.

Yin scampered back and took the up ramp to exit. And it was a lonely run, I felt.

Yin returned the next afternoon, taking the pine ramp down all the way into the corner, wandered around aimlessly on the ground, shuffling there for a little way. After a pause, Yin finally climbed back up the tree to hit the road.

All the world's a stage.