The Clowns of Forests
It’s not as though I knew of them growing up. They had always been quite remote to me. Neither their size, nor their scent seemed any familiar. Just one of those things that my senses seldom bothered to take note of. At least, not until I camped at Algonquin, only to be reminded of why they were called - quite rightly so - the clowns of forests.
A friend of mine once told me a story. It must have been late evening when she had finally finished setting up her tent. Given that it was Fall, walking on dry leaves while one looked to some tranquility was no apparent fun. Every step Priscilla took echoed through the wilderness only to be greeted back with silence, chilling silence.
The Sun had already made his way out.
Priscilla set out to build the fire. An eerie silence set forth across the entirety of the wilderness, one that could instill fear even in the most adventurous.
Following a brief period of silence, “Churr-ah-churr-ah-churr” - a reverberating sound echoed through the woods.
Priscilla could’ve sworn it was a bear!
She rushed back into her tent, shut the door, and sat there ready to strike with her bear spray held high.
After a brief minute of silence, “Churr-ah-churr-ah-churr” - the unsettling sound reappeared. For a split second although it seemed to be coming from the far end of the camp site, the next second, it would appear to be originating right beside her.
As things ensued, she could hear the food containers scrambled across; the garbage bags teared apart.
After what seemed like an hour, Priscilla mustered courage and decided to step out and face her interloper head-on.
“Churr-ah-churr-ah-churr” - Priscilla jumped! She felt something slide through her feet out in the dark.
Holding her ground, Priscilla held the flashlight in the direction of the sound.
From far across the edge of the camp site a pair of piercing eyes stared back at her, right through the empty dark hollow.
Priscilla remained relentless. She held the flash light high and cranked up its intensity. Just as she waited for her eyes to settle-in, the figure before her started to become more and more clearer.
‘A Squirrel?’ - Priscilla jumped.
Far by the edge of the camp site bothered by the dazzling light a little squirrel appeared to be making his way to the top of the tree as fast as he could.
‘Get out of here!’ - Priscilla chased him across before letting out a deep sigh of relief and moved on with the rest of her evening.
It must be instances like these that bring them close to our hearts and put a smile regardless however-much ever trouble we end up absorbing.