Divided this morning, up and down, and so is the day. Rain and then brilliant sun and then clouds and more rain. Little spits of rain, hardly worth the effort I’m thinking. Especially since the sun will be back in just a few minutes any way. When I woke up this morning I watched a little brown bird hop from one end of a branch to the other. Hop, hop, hop. His impossibly skinny little legs and tiny little feet grabbing the branch flawlessly. Quite full of himself he twittered and squawked at full voice. Hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. The sun broke out and turned the rain drops to little sun bursts on the leaves. Skinny Squirrel (yes, I’ve named the squirrel, but at the rate he’s munching down peanuts it won’t be long before we rename him Chunky Dunk) dragged himself out of the nest, lay prostrate on a higher branch and stared at the hopping, twittering, bird. Hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. The squirrel lifted his head and yawned, then returned to staring at the little brown bird. His happy hops becoming more animated, his twitters and squawks much louder. Skinny Squirrel chattered softly to himself and sat up. He was obviously not pleased with Mr. Happy-Pants. Mr. Happy-Pants on the other hand had found a mission. He was going to cheer up the grumpy squirrel. Delightedly, he flew up to the squirrel’s branch and began his routine. Hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. And again, hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. And again. If you had slapped the squirrel with a raw chunk of buffalo liver he couldn’t have been more offended. He pulled himself up to his full height and stared aghast at the happy little character doing his happy little morning dance. Hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. Each time hopping just a little closer. Hop, hop, hop, twitter, twitter, squawk. Aghast, Skinny Squirrel backed up a few steps. The happy little bird sensed he was losing his audience and upped the stakes. He broke out in cheerful, warbling, song. Disney, himself, couldn’t have choreographed better. I expected little animated blue birds to drift from the sky draping brightly colored ribbons about the squirrel and perhaps a little flowered wreath to place upon his head. Skinny Squirrel, apparently, is not a fan of happy little bird songs. He let lose in a torrent of chattering and cursing that would have embarrassed a seasoned soldier. He cursed the skies, the sun and the rain, the very air around us and of course the stupid, little, happy, bird and it’s stupid, little, happy song. The bird, not one that you have to throw a brick at to get the hint, left. The squirrel flicked his tail and ducked back into his nest. A few minutes later I went to go back inside and I heard it. Twitter, twitter, squawk. I turned around and, yes, he was back. Hop, hop, hop. But this time he brought a friend. Two happy little birds, twice as much hop, hop, hop and twitter, twitter, squawk. Each little hop, hop, hop, taking them closer to the squirrel’s nest. I will swear I can actually hear the squirrel sobbing.