"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."
~ Walt Whitman
"Song of the Open Road"
from "Leaves of Grass"
Squirrel is OUT! Before him lie paths between cages to
explore, piggies whose scents must fill his lungs, hay
through which to forage, tunnels of flannel and sticks
through which to race!
O, Squirrel, I am such a fine boy! Poos to identify then leave
my own as proof I lived well and thrived here! Treats left
behind to discover and digest, my happy feet and curious
toes to travel throughout the Sanctuary in search of what
can never be found in my Habitat: FREEDOM!
Roaming is my Middle Name, Squirrel-Roaming my calling,
so off I go, naming some things, allowing more to remain
NameLess in essence for what is a name, anyway?
Only what people call things, but can "hay" define the
taste, the texture, a long stem with a flower on the tip:
a hay-flower Divine to eat, hay to chew, nosh, or - in
YumYum's case, hay within which to dig a burrow,
a burrow of comfort in his woven basket! It soothes him.
He remembers His Wildness from our Ancestors,
and when I am on the Open Road
I, too, remember them, for we are descendants from
the Andes in South America where we once roamed free
but not without danger -
We roamed in herds, they say descended from much
larger animals called Capybaras: I dispute this!
We are too perfect exactly the way we are to
have evolved from anything one might call "better" -
for there is no better, no worse,
Here five guinea pigs live with our own quirks,
our own differences, our own individualities,
united in our love for one another, food, mom,
and
The Song of the Open Road!
~
Thus spoke Squirrel
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."
~ Walt Whitman
"Song of the Open Road"
from "Leaves of Grass"
Squirrel is OUT! Before him lie paths between cages to
explore, piggies whose scents must fill his lungs, hay
through which to forage, tunnels of flannel and sticks
through which to race!
O, Squirrel, I am such a fine boy! Poos to identify then leave
my own as proof I lived well and thrived here! Treats left
behind to discover and digest, my happy feet and curious
toes to travel throughout the Sanctuary in search of what
can never be found in my Habitat: FREEDOM!
Roaming is my Middle Name, Squirrel-Roaming my calling,
so off I go, naming some things, allowing more to remain
NameLess in essence for what is a name, anyway?
Only what people call things, but can "hay" define the
taste, the texture, a long stem with a flower on the tip:
a hay-flower Divine to eat, hay to chew, nosh, or - in
YumYum's case, hay within which to dig a burrow,
a burrow of comfort in his woven basket! It soothes him.
He remembers His Wildness from our Ancestors,
and when I am on the Open Road
I, too, remember them, for we are descendants from
the Andes in South America where we once roamed free
but not without danger -
We roamed in herds, they say descended from much
larger animals called Capybaras: I dispute this!
We are too perfect exactly the way we are to
have evolved from anything one might call "better" -
for there is no better, no worse,
Here five guinea pigs live with our own quirks,
our own differences, our own individualities,
united in our love for one another, food, mom,
and
The Song of the Open Road!
~
Thus spoke Squirrel
