Sam Spiralli, The Seriously Nutty Squirrel

“Never look back in anger!” Sam Spiralli, the seriously nutty squirrel uttered inside his mind. He then hollered at the top of his voice to no-one in particular: “If the nut’s gone – it’s gone.” In fact, his shout was so loud that all the squirrels living in other parts of ‘his’ oak tree snapped their heads around to his direction, frowned gravely and started chattering to each other, sniggering and tutting shortly afterwards. “I’m going to get that lot.” He thought. “This is my tree.”

“Get lost.” He shouted.

“You already have.” One squirrel shouted back.

“Inside your head anyway.” Another added. Their laughter flew through the air like a flock of starlings ringing and fluttering annoyingly in Sam’s ears. Sam tightened his lips together, pursed them in an angry, frustrated show – then slammed his paws onto his ears and darted back into his drey thinking, “how… how… how?”

Sam’s drey, a natural hollow in a fork of ‘his’ hundreds-of-years-old oak tree standing quite alone in the middle of a small copse of other trees and bushes, was beautifully lined with small twigs and had a luxurious soft lining of moss, leaves, grass and fur, creating a cosy retreat after a hard day at work burying acorns. He rolled into a ball and tried not to think of the ‘scoundrels’ currently living in ‘his’ oak tree, pinching ‘his’ acorns for themselves. “These newcomers just don’t belong here and need to find their own tree.” Sam closed his eyes to think hard about a plan to get rid of his unwanted guests – the task proved to be rather difficult and he simply went to sleep.

Sam woke the next morning in exactly the same position he went to sleep in. The only differences were that he had a bright red forehead from when he’d had an idea in his sleep of how to get rid of the pests occupying ‘his’ tree – and had slapped it hard to try and keep the idea in his head ready for the morning. That hadn’t worked and only resulted in the other difference which was a thumping great headache. The sun burst in through the opening of his drey. “Time for work and to collect breakfast.” He thought and sprung out of his drey.

Sam picked a couple of newly ripened acorns and set off to replace them with older ones he’d buried some months earlier. The older ones would be his breakfast. He darted this way and that through the undergrowth on the floor of the copse, turning his head every couple of seconds to make sure no-one was following him. He arrived at one of his buried stock of acorns and dug down rapidly under the leaves and loose soil.

After a long while (much too long, he thought), he had not reached his stash – it was gone! The only thing left was a faint scent of another squirrel. Sam put his new acorns back into the hole, covered it over and closed his fists together tightly. “The thieving little… squirrels.” he said rather quietly to himself, clenching his teeth together and fuming with anger. “I’m going to sort them good and proper – just you wait and see.”

Illustration 1 showing Sam with clenched fists and teeth, fuming by a small mound of soil and leaves. A big oak tree in the background.

Tommy the toad was much larger than the average toad and lived at the side of a pond not too far from Sam’s large oak tree. If he was a tortoise he would live in the Galapagos islands, such was his huge size. He was a friendly toad – a gentle giant many of his friends often said, and every-one – I mean every-one, called him by his nickname which was ‘Whopper Hopper.’ Tommy could easily leap from one side of a road to the other in one go.

It took a lot of oppression to even slightly upset Whopper Hopper – and to get him angry took so much effort that others often frustratingly gave up, or didn’t even try in the first place, such was his resilience. On the day that Sam discovered he’d been robbed of his precious acorns again, then discovered that the scent left by one of the pesky interlopers was not just a scent, he’d whacked the ground so hard that the ‘scent’ had gone flying through the air like a ground to air missile – just as Whopper Hopper, out for his morning stroll, took a leap just for the fun of it.

And yes, the flying ‘scent’ got Whopper Hopper straight in the snout turning his leap ‘just for fun’ into something quite different – especially when he instinctively wiped his snout with the bottom of his feet half way through his leap… that made things much worse. Sam watched all of this happen rooted to the spot waiting for Whopper Hopper to land. Sam’s mind, when it comes to thinking (especially of ideas), is probably about as sharp as a peeled banana. This was the main reason keeping him rooted to the spot – fear of what Whopper Hopper would do to him being the other.

Of course, when Whopper Hopper did land, he no longer had the grip he usually does and went skidding onto his backside (and into the remainder of the ‘scent’), bouncing and shouting angry little snorts each time his tender skin contacted with a sharp stone, or rough tree root sticking out of the ground. Sam covered his eyes, grimaced then opened his fingers just in time to see Whopper Hopper come to a head-first abrupt stop courtesy of the trunk of ‘his’ oak tree. Two things instinctively hit Sam’s mind at the same time – he chose the latter.

“Sorry… sorry… sorry, Whopper Hopper!” Although, as soon as he saw the anger on Whopper Hopper’s face, he instantly regretted choosing the apologetic route, it was too late now to use the ‘it wasn’t me’ route. Sam raised both of his arms in surrender and walked slowly towards his one-time friend. Whopper Hopper stood up curling his nose high in the air when the stink from his skin hit his nostrils. An unripe, hard acorn dropped from the tree and struck Whopper Hopper between his eyes – he wasn’t at all happy and the snarl he aimed at Sam proved it.

Whopper Hopper’s snarling face turned quickly into a questioning one, then into a reasoning one, as he heard sniggering and chuckles from a bunch of squirrels high up in the tree. Another hard acorn sped his way from the hand of one of the squirrels. Whopper Hopper tried to run forwards, but merely slipped on the remains of the ‘scent’ on his feet. He splatted face-first into the remains that caused him to slither in the first place. Sam closed his eyes. “Can this possibly get any worse?” He questioned himself. The howls of laughter from his unwelcome guests partly answered his question.

“Are those horrible little creatures friends of yours?” Sam was sort of glad that Whopper Hopper hadn’t asked whether they were his family.

“No, they turned up out of nowhere a couple of months ago and have done nothing but give me grief ever since.”

“I need a bath.” Whopper Hopper said. Sam’s mind completely agreed, but his mouth said nothing – he was in enough trouble already with Whopper Hopper. Instead, Sam held out his hand to help Whopper Hopper get up and to his pond. Both of them jumped straight into the pond to wash off the nasty smell.

By this time, the anger built up inside of Whopper Hopper during his stinky ordeal had all but gone. Instead, he turned his attention to what his long-time friend, Sam, had said earlier. “So, tell me – what are these pesky squirrels doing in your tree?”

“Dunno.” Sam said. “They must have stripped their own tree of acorns and now want mine.

“All I want is to get rid of them, but I just can’t think of a way.”

“Thinking has never been your greatest asset.”

Sam only half caught what his friend uttered very quietly through the mask of his fingers and asked him to speak-up.

“Never-mind.” Whopper Hopper said.

All cleaned and dried a little while later, Sam and Whopper Hopper observed the old oak tree that had been a major, happy part of their home-land since they could both remember. Now, that peacefulness was under serious threat by a bunch of squirrels they could see springing from branch to branch and scurrying up and down the thick trunk. “Horrible little creatures.” Sam said. Whopper Hopper turned his head slowly, raised one eyebrow and looked Sam up and down. “I can’t see any difference.” He thought.

“Listen.” Whopper Hopper said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yeah, and it just might work.” Sam did a lot of listening (as best he could), whilst Whopper Hopper did a lot of talking – which he was good at. At the dead of that night, when everything around the copse was quiet – except for a couple of owls chanting ke-wick followed by the occasional hoo-hoo-oo, Sam prised open one of his eyes. The plan Whopper Hopper had explained to him was, he thought, still clear in his mind.

“Now, firstly,” Sam said quietly to himself reluctantly peeling himself from his very cosy bed. “Whopper Hopper said I have to collect as many fresh acorns that I can find – and quietly, I remember he told me.” Sam scurried on his tip-toes from branch to branch picking the freshly ripened acorns and storing them in his jaws. At the last second he remembered that Whopper Hopper had told him to stay on his side of the tree so as not to disturb his unwanted guests.

His jaws bulging with acorns, Sam sat on a branch close to the other side of the tree where all of the interlopers slept. He had to think hard. “What did Whopper Hopper tell me to do next?” He thought. “Crikey, I’ve forgotten.” Then he heard it: ‘CROAK.’ “That’s it.” He uttered, then realised that the mission was to be done in total silence – Whopper Hopper had insisted – so clasped his paws over his mouth. He looked around, none of the squirrels had heard him.

“Idiot.” Whopper Hopper thought, sitting firmly on the very tip of a branch of the old oak tree. Earlier he’d silently leapt high in the air and grabbed the tip of the branch, pulling it down to the ground and sat on it. The branch was spring loaded from the floor.

“What was next – after the ‘croak’ signal to tell me Whopper Hopper was in position and ready on his side?” Sam thumped the side of his head to get his brain to remember.

“Move… along… and… down… the… branch.” Whopper Hopper mouthed to his friend, swiping his arm from left to right above his head. Sam looked down having noticed a curious movement in the darkness below. Whopper Hopper repeated his instruction this time in a quiet whisper. “Ah, yes – I must move as close to the tip of the branch as I can get.” Whopper Hopper’s plan made a brief visit to his mind. “Without falling off!” Sam crawled slowly and silently downwards and towards the tip of the branch Whopper Hopper held firm.

Sam reached a position he considered close enough to the tip of the branch to execute the next part of the plan, he turned around and sat down. That much he could remember, but the rest had gone from his mind. “This is hard work.” Whopper Hopper thought and waved both of his hands in the air to get Sam’s attention having noticed he wasn’t doing what he should be doing – in fact, he wasn’t doing anything at all. The dark movement caught the periphery of Sam’s eye. Whopper Hopper pointed furiously at his own cheeks, hoping that Sam’s limited information retention would be reminded of the next step.

Sam copied Whopper Hopper’s actions before realising his mouth was crammed full of acorns and he had a job to do with them – but just what was that job? Whopper Hopper pretended to take something from his mouth and place it into an invisible position in front of him. Sam’s black eyes widened as the job he needed to do dropped into his mind. He carefully began to remove the acorns from his mouth and place them tantalisingly on leaves all around him. And that was it. Sam’s brain-power was completely spent for that particular day – he would need to sleep to generate enough for another day, so he did.

Whopper Hopper waited for a short while for Sam to creep up to the entrance of the other squirrels’ drey – which was the next step in his plan. Sam did nothing. After attempting all sorts of vigorous movements using various parts of his body, Whopper Hopper decided that Sam had gone to sleep – and he was right. One of the intruder squirrels popped his head out of their drey, something had disturbed his sleep. At the tip of their entrance branch was a stash of fresh acorns. “I’m having them.” He said in a hushed voice and crawled towards them.

Whopper Hopper felt around him on the floor for something he could reach Sam with – a stick maybe to poke him or a small stone to throw. He found both. Firstly, he reached up towards Sam using the stick – it wasn’t quite long enough to reach even after he’d moved his bottom from the branch as much as he’d dared and shifted the stick to the tips of his fingers. By this time the newcomer squirrel had stuffed half of the acorns into his mouth. Whopper Hopper threw a stone towards Sam, but missed.

The squirrel stuffed the rest of the acorns into the other side of his mouth and sloped-off back to the entrance of their drey. A stone hit Sam and awoke him, but not straight away. The end of the plan darted into his mind. “Food.” He shouted at the top of his voice, not realising where he was. This was the signal Sam was to shout to get the squirrels from their drey at the same time as letting Whopper Hopper know he was safely away from the spring loaded branch. He knew that a short while later the outsider squirrels would be on the branch stealing the acorns – that was the plan anyway.

Whopper Hopper counted to five in his head and leapt from the branch. The branch sprang like a catapult. Sam Spiralli, twisting in the air like a sycamore seed, reflected in the eyes of the couple of owls policing the night-time, and splashed rather unceremoniously into the middle of Whopper Hopper’s pond. By this time all of the other squirrel’s – having been awakened by a commotion going on outside – had lined the branches of the tree and saw Sam splash into the pond. Howls of squirrel laughter woke almost every other creature in the copse. That was that.

Illustration X showing

‘Tst.’ The sound a lit match makes when dropped into a bucket of water reached Sam’s ears as he shook the pond water from them.