Diary of an Oak Tree

The sun touched the treetops. Long shadows—the cool of the day—treetop animals began to move. How wildlife judges the passing of time is something civilized man has lost the power to feel. Creatures that have neither clocks nor books are alive to all manner of knowledge about time and weather, how the sunlight strikes an area of their home tree, the altering movement of trees—all these are perceived by the natural world.

Notch was happy. Content to gaze at Tam sitting with Ole, Shy, and Tic. His family was watching several birds and squirrels, members of their crown; gather in Sprig, a nearby tree for fellowship.

While waiting, they engaged in a favorite pastime—watching man. And people of every size and color were walking and running around the lake. Human voices both fascinate and horrify urban wildlife. They find human conversation and singing unique and interesting. However, their cackling (laughter) is appalling. The way people bare their teeth and utter loud, otherworldly noises, sometimes waving their heads and arms around, make most animals think the poor creature is trying to hack up a hairball. It’s unnatural.

The treetop crown studied the featherless bipeds in hope that someone would feed them. It happens so often that they recognized the humans that usually brought a free lunch. But this evening there would be no cracked corn or breadcrumbs.

The blue jay, Indi, had arrived and drawn a small crowd of listeners while he squawked another well told rendition of Spook and the Mysterious Meadow.

Notch rubbed his nose behind Tam’s ear. “Are you ready to join the clan?”

“Another gathering?” She groaned, “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important to you. I hear the same stories and the same complaints from the same bigmouths. What do we really accomplish?”

“Tam, we have a great life in the crown. They expect us to be there. It’ll be fun tonight. We’ll bring the little ones this time. Look, Indi’s almost done—let’s go before somebody takes our limb.”

The squirrel family of five hurried across the grass and climbed Sprig, the old oak, in time to hear some of the cardinal and blue jay leaders making small talk about suspicious chasers.

There was a new voice in the gathering, Vicar, one of Father Cardinal’s brothers from another crown. The red bird stepped forward, eager to share his story. “Friends, for you that don’t know me, I’m Father Cardinal’s younger brother from Lake Silver. And I have grave news about Dagger. He’s the worst of the worst chasers—fast as a blinking eye with flesh ripping claws.

I nested above that cat’s mankeep for several seasons. And I saw lots of dreadful things. He’s a brutal regulator that controls everything but the weather. I swear even the humans tread lightly around him.”

Unimpressed, Notch was preoccupied with his three yet unnamed babies.

I like Ott Junior. But we need names for the girls.

He leaned over and whispered in Tam’s ear, “Start thinking about names for the little ones.”

“Shhhh ... I want to hear this.”

Vicar glided to another perch to continue. “Feather-lore claims that he’s as old as the oak trees, maybe immortal. My friends, when you see Dagger, run to the treetops and hide. Fly to the clouds and watch where he goes. Because squirrels and feathered comrades do not survive close encounters.”

A muted spirit overshadowed the gathering while they contemplated Vicar’s story. Father Cardinal landed next to Vicar.

“Brother, this crown has heard that story before. We’re not worried about Dagger.” Father Cardinal turned to the group. “He lives a long way from here, and besides that, we have Notch, a real cat fighter. Remember, he won a fight with Dagger.” Then he gave Vicar a bird grimace, “Tell us something new.”

A ripple of chirps and tweets echoed his complaint.

Vicar countered, “Here’s something I bet you haven’t heard. I witnessed Dagger kill not one, but two, of his own.”

A gasp and rumble of treetop voices filled the air. Only the most evil creatures kill their own kind. That’s why animals have a great fear man. Besides winter slayer, they fall prey to each other more than any other reason. Treetop animals don’t set their wits to work to devise ways of spoiling other creature’s lives and hurting them. They have dignity and animality.

“We don’t behave like men. But Dagger does. That’s right, his cousins, Scrap and Waldo. They decided to test the old tabby and took a shortcut through his territory. It cost them dearly. I saw what was left of them with my own sharp eyes.”

“Dagger’s violence is too much for respectable nesting cardinals. So my mate, Brownie, and I are moving to Lake Adair.” Then Vicar’s real reason for visiting came out, “Brother, you got a nesting spot for us in your tree?”

Father Cardinal doubted the horror story, but before he could answer, a series of warning calls echoed across the tree canopies, alerting the Lake Adair crowns that a spook had been sighted. The chaser was patrolling early. With the last of the sun in the western sky, the treetoppers quickly scrambled to nest and drey, safely hidden under tree canopy and Spanish moss.

Notch and Tam made it back to their drey and were hushing their little ones when an owl’s call sounded from the far shore. It was the first call, and by instinct they crouched motionless, counting their heartbeats until the second followed.

Tam sighed, “Four heartbeats—it’s moving away.”

“How many squirrels say that every night and vanish, I wonder? You know their call is deceptive. It’s why we call them spooks.”

The nighttime bird of prey flew around the lake on high, looking for quarry. It had young to feed. It craved warm flesh. Who would die—be the sacrificial offering for the others? It saw movement—an unfortunate fieldmouse in the open. Spook dived, silent and deadly, and plucked the rodent from the Medicine Meadow grass and flew into the night sky.