They have no idea where it came from, that red oak with the abundant acorns to which they come every sunny morning and even some rainy ones. Did they ever ask, “Who planted this tree? Where do trees come from? What do humans mean by a Big Bang?”
There’s one on his favorite perch, with his back against the trunk, breaking into an acorn that he picked at random from hundreds strewn on the ground. He’s on the lowest branch, about eight feet off the ground, keeping his distance from the other two.
Those squirrels never picked the acorns off the branches, probably because they weren’t ripe. Now that the acorns are on the ground, it’s a supermarket. How does a small squirrel, with a three-ounce stomach capacity, eat so many acorns? And how does he survive that hawk, lazily observing from circles in the sky?