Bird Seed or Breast?

I stopped in front of our sliding glass doors in the living room yesterday to take a look at the squirrel who was lying flat on its stomach. We feed the birds and squirrels from a feeder on the top rail of our deck that is directly in front of our big ol' hickory tree. The squirrel was positioned directly beside the feeder, lying flat out on its stomach, hugging the rail with its little squirrel feet.

"What is wrong with this squirrel?" I thought. We are constantly enjoying the variety of birds and squirrel circus, but I have never seen this kind of behavior from a squirrel before. I started getting concerned. "Is it dying?" "Is it having trouble walking?" Then I saw another, smaller squirrel, bobbing on another branch, to the wind blowing through the trees. Then I got to thinking, "That selfish squirrel is hoarding food and guarding the feeder so the birds and other squirrels don't get any!" "Selfish squirrel!" I thought, as I went on with my housework.

Maddie stopped me as I was coming through the living room later on that afternoon. "Mom!" she said. "I think there is something wrong with that squirrel. He has been laying there like that for 30 minutes, and it won't move." I looked out again and saw the selfish squirrel lying flat on its stomach again, guarding the feeder. And, again, another smaller squirrel was bobbing on a tree branch, waiting its turn at the feeder.

Then I felt it. A feeling only a mother who has ever just wanted to be left alone feels. You know, moms, that feeling that if anyone else touches you, you're gonna lose it? You just need a bathroom break behind a closed door so no one can "help" you, talk to you, tattle, or need something?

I started watching the "selfish squirrel" through new eyes. I looked. Sure enough, it was a mama squirrel. We had seen the little baby squirrels on the first day they ventured out of their nest onto the bobbing branches of the hickory tree. They had slipped, jumped, fallen, and hung on for dear life, as they learned to navigate the tree branches.

Selfish Squirrel's barely-visible little breasts were carefully concealed against the rail as she laid flat-out across it, gripping the sides for dear life. Suddenly "Selfish Squirrel" became "Wise Mama Squirrel". Wise Mama Squirrel just wanted to be left alone. She did not want to be touched. She did not want to offer another one of her breasts to her adolescent "baby" squirrels. She was weaning them!

I looked over at the little squirrel, bobbing on the branch, patiently waiting for mom to move just enough that it could sneak a suck at her breast. Mama wasn't going anywhere, though. It was a battle of time and of wills. Would Wise Mama Squirrel be able to lay and wait out her child's hunger pangs? Or would the patient, hungry little squirrel get her to relent.

I called the kids over, told them what was happening, and we watched.

The little squirrel, sure enough, came over, sniffing and nudging Wise Mama Squirrels tummy, looking for its snack. Wise Mama Squirrel just flattened out further, to say, "No!" The little squirrel finally stepped right on top of Wise Mama Squirrel and found himself sitting in the bird feeder. At first little squirrel just sat there. Wise Mama Squirrel laid there, patiently waiting. Little squirrel started playing and sifting through the bird seed mix. Finally, little squirrel picked up a shelled nut, tried it, and had some more. Wise Mama Squirrel just stayed, statue-like, while her child ate "real food."