There are no squirrels in Iceland. But there are a lot of them in Ontario. Grey, black, and cute little chipmunks. The black squirrels outnumber the grey but that ratio seems to be changing as the average temperature rises. The greys chase the blacks and the chipmunks yell at everyone. They are very comical this time of the year.
Many many years ago I found an orphaned baby squirrel and took him in. I named him Squirrelly Mutha. He was grateful to have a safe bed and plenty to eat. He hung out and was a real treat to have around. He was free to come and go as he pleased but he preferred to come home every day. By autumn he was nearly mature and spent more time in the trees. One day I spotted him with a girlfriend and he gave me a long stare and seemed very proud of himself. That was the last time he came inside. By Spring he had his own family to take care of and all was right with the world.
I then cleared out his bed that was made from a box and found that he had stuffed all manner of soft items in there. I had been looking for some of these things and now I knew what had happened.
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