The birds are quieter in the morning now, but the crickets fill the void with a steady, almost electric, hum. The frenzied morning calling and flurried activity of mating and then feeding their young has turned to the yearly southerly retreat for several bird species, while many others fly deeper into the woods to find their colder weather shelters.

Now the nut trees are burgeoning with their fruit, and the squirrels are busy harvesting them by scavenging or chewing them off of the tree branches where the nuts might crack on the street below, or at least entertain the squirrels by pinging unsuspecting walkers.

There was a huge horse chestnut tree outside the last apartment I lived in with my son, and the weekend I was driving him to college, I heard him yell out an “Ahhhh!” in mild distress a few times while he loaded the car with his belongings.

It seemed that several squirrels were chewing off a load of the nuts right over the car and onto the sidewalk next to car, and my son had been hit with several of the spiky nuts while bringing some boxes to the car.

“I think they’re targeting me,” he said.

“Maybe you look like a nutcracker,” I offered.

“Hilarious, Mom.”

Just then, another barrage beaned me on the head.

“Ow!” I called out as I took off for the shelter of the porch. Several more nuts had thudded onto the car, bouncing off onto the street.

“I told you!” he said, as though I hadn’t believed him.

After that we went around to the street side of the car to avoid any more nut bombs, but the squirrels had probably chewed them all off at that spot by then.

I think about that day this time of year on my daily walk when the squirrels – or gravity – start unloading the horse chestnuts, black walnuts, or acorns from the trees that line our country roadside. I’m more careful to give those trees a wider berth this time of year.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh), Making A Way Blog, 2010 – current