Nose quivering, tail rippling,
Paws creeping, eyes inquiring.

Close your eyes to bless the food,
And then the squirrel is there in front of you,
Waiting expectantly for a scrap.
And when you toss a stick to make it scram,
It runs to examine it, hoping for a snack.
And when you turn around, suddenly it’s back,
Paw next to you on your bench,
Reaching through the slats.

This poem describes a real squirrel encounter my family and I had in the park outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art last summer. However, I only have photos of the groundhogs we saw during that same lunch, so the photo above is a representative squirrel from the Boston Common that I snapped during a different trip. The Boston squirrels were equally bold but more photogenic and not quite as intimidating (perhaps only because I didn’t have any food this time).

If any Philadelphia passerby noticed sandwich bags lying in the grass that day near the trash can, please know that we did throw our trash away like responsible citizens. The squirrel just fished them out a minute later hoping for a snack and then left them scattered on the ground…