In Honor of Spring

Even though it was 25 degrees this morning, spring is technically here. And with it come tourii and the resurgence of the squirrel population.

I'm the kind of person who often seems to find herself in strange situations with some equally strange people. I'm also well aware that, in addition to being the City of Brotherly Love, Philly is also home to many, many weird people. I just didn't know that they also worked for the National Park Service.

Often, when the weather is nice, I'll have lunch in the park across the street from my office in Olde City. One lovely late-October afternoon, I was sitting on a bench in said park talking on the phone. The trees had begun losing their leaves, and the heavy winds of the night before had also brought down a few branches. The National Park workers were scrambling to clear these branches from the cobblestone streets in addition to their usual tasks of grass-cutting and leaf-raking; I didn't think anything of it when a tall, thin man in the olive green coveralls of the average park employee walked past me carrying a weedwacker.

I think that now would probably be a good time to mention the ungodly amount of squirrels that live in and around the park. On occasion, when I have lunch in the park with some of the girls from the office, I see the tourii (Rictor's and my term for flocks of tourists) feeding the squirrels, and I shake my head. People should know better.

So I wasn't really paying much attention to this guy until I turned my head a bit and noticed that he had put down the weedwacker and was now several yards away from it, on his hands and knees, crawling toward the base of a tree. I looked a little closer and saw a squirrel squatting on its hind legs and staring at the man who was crawling towards him. The next thing I knew, Park Employee had reached out, snatched the squirrel with one hand (!), and then started to unbutton a few buttons on his shirt with his free hand. I wanted to stare openly, but, as this man was clearly out of his mind, I tried to watch from the corners of my eyes while pretending to mind my own business.

With the stealth of a professional animal trainer, Park Employee slipped the struggling squirrel inside his shirt and cradled the wee thing against his stomach with one hand. He then stood up, walked over to the weedwacker, picked it up with his free hand, and calmly strolled off across the street and behind a few colonial-style homes.