Fluff, dryer lint specifically, made quite decent insulation for a nest. Pushing it into the cracks and seams of the carefully woven twigs with her beak, the sparrow twittered with satisfaction. Basic home maintenance may be a necessity but that didn’t mean it must be glum. Her head cocked, hearing a rustling below. Hopping along the craggy branch, she peered over the edge to see a group of squirrels, and one chipmunk. Gathering in a line on the fence under the cover of the sparrow’s tree. She blinked, one of them was that one from yesterday. Tried to steal that can and got the dog on him, he did. This time he’s wearing some strange, makeshift backpack of toothpicks, string and a plastic bag. He’s trying again with some of his mates from the looks of it. Well, if that’s how some people wanted to spend their time she wouldn’t judge, but by George it does make an awful lot of noise once that canine gets involved.
It was another lazy day, sun high, clouds fluffy. Perfect weather for a peanut heist. Francis, along with his soon to be successful partners in crime looked out onto the backyard. The tin of Watkins Peanuts tantalized in the distance. It’s glossy paper wrapper glinting in the sun. Sheffield was fast asleep on the deck, snoring loudly on his side. Chuck looked a little nervous, ears flat against his head, tail low, his fur bristling as he watched that mutt. How did he let himself get talked into this? Darlene ruffled his head, which he found this more annoying than reassuring. Gerry was distracted by a pretty white butterfly floating by. Oh, and, Harold was there too.
With a deep, squeaky breath, Francis readied himself. Looking to his cohorts, he nodded. Chuck nodded back, tapping Gerry on the head to get his attention. The two of them made their way along the fence around to the east side of the yard. Darlene and Harold move to their own waypoint on the west. Francis followed, positioning himself across the shortest gap between the fence and deck on the west side. Staying out of sights, hanging on the opposite side of the fence, they waited for the plan to unfold. Chuck and Gerry knew they were up first, They squeaked loudly, trying to catch the sleeping dogs attention.
Ole’ Sheff breathed deep, whistling through his nostrils, jowls rippling as he exhaled. Snorting, noticing something amiss, his eyes twitching. Sucking in more air through his nose, He jerked awake with a snort of recognition. Chuck stopped, waiting to see what happened.
Smacking his lips, opening his eyes, the mutt yawned wide, flaunting his impressive curved canines. Scanning his environs with tired eyes to see what the matter was, finding swiftly that the matter was them. His eyes went wide. Barking, recognizing the furry trespassers, flailing his spindly legs in an awkward scramble. Launching himself towards Chuck and Gerry as they knew he would.
Hearing the dog barking fruitlessly, Francis knew it was his turn to move. Crawling over the fence, tension in his throat as he snuck to the ground. Dropping to the soft grass halfway down the fence, heart pounding, prowling swiftly through the green blades towards the tall end of the deck. Empty backpack shifting side to side against his shoulders. Sheffield barking and the thumps of his paws against the fence echoed dully as his claws dug into the ragged support. Climbing inch by inch and quickly as he could.
Stopping just before cresting the edge, he looked over his left shoulder to Darlene and Harold in the cover of the tree, giving them a thumbs up, they nodded, waving their arms at Chuck. Who was busy staring down the angry, barking mutt keeping to the safety of the grass. Not wanting to hurt his paws on the jagged shale that rimmed the east and north fences. Gerry on the other hand was enjoying puffing his cheeks and making faces at the dog. Chuck squinted at him, unsure if he was brave or merely too dim to be scared. Looking across the yard, he saw Darlene and Harold signalling him, he fluttered his own poofy tail in reply, grabbing Gerry by the shoulder and pulling him away, down the back of the fence. Sheffield grumbled and licked his lips satisfied that he defended his backyard once again. Until the distant blasphemous sounds of more heretics invaded his ears. Spinning his head. He saw the new duo of irritants.
Francis heard the thunder of paws on grass coming closer, phase three. He climbed onto the deck just as the barks and snarls began anew. The dog was out of sight, concealed by the furniture against the north railing and the height of this side of the deck. Leaving him free to collect nuts without fear of Sheffield accidentally turning around to notice him. Taking off his pack, he untied the floss at the top, flipping open the flap and setting it down beside the canister. Wedging his claws underneath the flexible plastic lid, he had to push hard to separate it out of its cardboard groove. And with a soft pop, the glitter of the foil seal shimmered merrily at him. A brand new can? Odd, but fortunate. He grabbed the flap of foil, bracing on the top of the lid with his other hand, He pulled and pulled and pulled with all his squirrely might, until, finally, with a puff... the delightful, addictive aroma of natural and artificial flavours nearly overwhelmed him. His eyes and mouth watered and he was returned instantly to that first nut handed to him by an elderly squirrel in the house. Sheffield jumped and barked as Darlene and Harold expertly taunted him. Running up and down the fence, onto a tree branch, then back again. Darlene feigned tripping a few times, making it seem as though the scoundrel had a chance to catch her. Truly a master of her craft. Harold had his own tricks as well. Chuck and Gerry watched, a little embarrassed at their own performance but also inspired about what was possible.
Francis dug his paws in, scooping armfuls of precious Watkins into the bag. One after the other. The smokey scented dust coating his fur, tempting him to indulge right here and now. But there would be plenty of time for that later. For now he must endure and work swiftly. Chuck and Gerry peeked their heads over their side of the fence, Waiting for the final signal. Francis packed one last load into the bag, straining the flap as he pulled it down. Fingers slipping as he cinched the knot tight. Not a single nut more could fit inside the sack. Hefting it onto his back, it was much heavier than he’d expected. Gerry climbed onto the fence in anticipation of the last phase while Chuck tried poking at him to get back down. As Francis adjusted his shoulder straps he heard a familiar and fearful stomach dropping squeak.
Francis’ head snapped towards it, staring, ears flexing in horror, hearing only his own pumping heart. Chuck tumbled forward. Gerry was reaching his paw out towards him. His friend, who’d been with him since he was a pup, who had gotten into so much mischief with him over the years, was somersaulting in a flailing panic towards the ground. What happened? Squirrels don’t just slip off fences! Chuck hit the grass shoulder first, flopping onto his back with a bounce, the wind forced out of his lungs for a second. Gerry crouched on the edge of the fence, shivering, breathing hard as he stared down at him. Francis couldn’t breath at all. Amidst it all, one thing went unnoticed in their collective focus.
Sheffield stopped barking.
The heavy sound of the dog’s paws hitting the grass startled them all out of their daze. But the gleeful sparkle in that dogs eyes as he dug his hind claws into the dirt froze Chuck’s blood. The mutt launched himself with both legs at terrifying speed towards the proned morsel. Rolling to his belly, nails biting into the dirt with desperation, arms twinging painfully as they flung him onto the shifting shale, Sheffield thrust again, increasing his acceleration, as Chuck dug his claws desperately into the painted wood, leaping with demonic force up the fence... and slipping.
Darlene and Harold chittered loudly and with great panic, trying to regain the white spotted warden of hell’s attention. Francis was paralyzed, unaware, his mind a blur of memories of their life together flashing before his eyes. The devil’s next thundering bound snapped him back to reality. His body reacted before his mind. Loud screeches followed his feet as he bolted towards Sheffield. Loud enough, it seems, to startle him. Slowing his stride and swinging his head to lock eyes on Francis, who slid to a stop. The extra weight pulled the table with him, tilting invitingly towards Sheffield before clunking back in place, the canister of peanuts rattling. The dog looked back at Chuck, who now was out of his reach thanks to this distraction, snorting, he turned to Francis. One squirrel tasted as good as another.
The speed that dog could move when on good terrain was terrifying. Francis scrambled backwards on the unsteady table, the air erupting with chattering from all sides as his friends all desperately tried to grab his hunter’s attention, to no effect. Sheffield had his prey, there was no point thinking about the others. Muscle memory served the squirrel well in his panic as he leapt towards the railing, his easy, reliable escape route. Pushing the table over from the force of his legs. The peanuts scattering everywhere when the can hit the floor boards.
The railing got closer in his racing vision. His arc was good, but the motion seemed off and didn’t feel right... oh no. His heavy load of nuts pushed into his back and shoulders as they shoved him towards the ground, he reached vainly for the edge of the railing, mind blank as it slipped from view. Landing flat on his belly, forcing all the air out of his lungs in a painful squeak as he slid onto his side. Eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted. Now it was everyone else’s turn to freeze. Pushing up on sore arms and legs, he couldn’t get himself to move fast enough. The thundering of paws behind him turned to scraping against wood, rapidly approaching.
The loud yip surprised both of them as Sheffield skidded to a stop, bopped on the forehead by an indistinct grey blur. Francis blinked, seeing the fluttering shadow whizzing around for another pass, chirping angrily. Miss Sparrow? The dog snorted, shaking himself off with a contemptuous growl. Snapping at the bird, catching nought but air in his jaws amidst her elegant evasions.
Instead, feeling the wispy talons land on his snout, pecking him once, firmly, on the top of his nose. A harmless though infinitely irritating jab which hurt only his pride. Unable to twist himself fast enough to catch her deft leap into the air once again.
Though the spectacle was amusing in its own way, Francis could not afford to stay and watch. Pulling himself to his feet he squeezed himself through the railing, thankful he designed his pack to be only as wide as he was himself for just such a possibility. Hopping to the grass below, the indignant snarl behind him marked another match won for the bird.
The fall was a mite more painful than normal on account of his extra cargo but nothing his body couldn’t handle. Dashing to the fence, he was surprised the dog and she were still going at it. Though Sheffield sounded to be on the defensive now. Miss Sparrow pecked him sternly, like scolding a chick. The dog’s ferocious howls and barks were becoming ever more disgruntled as Francis climbed. The relieved faces of his friends awaiting him at the top made the extra strain more bearable.
After a quick breather, and a few hugs, they all watched the spectacle of a one ounce bird chasing an eighty pound dog across the yard. Running with his tail between his legs no less as the sparrow jabbed ferociously at his hindquarters. He cornered himself behind the stone birdbath in the northeast part of the yard which the sparrow landed on. She stared down the mutt growling back at her from a safe distance. Deciding he’d had enough, she flew back to the tree under which Francis and his compatriots sat. She hopped down to meet them. Francis began to thank her as she approached, but she cut him off with a loud cheep. Hopping closer, she gave him quite the ear full. After all, didn’t he and his fellows realize how much noise their escapades were making? Enough to wake her chicks that’s what! If it weren’t for all that dog’s harumphing she wouldn’t’ve intervened at all, she reckons. And she made sure to let Francis and his band of miscreants know that if this happens again, she’ll let that mongrel eat its fill and see how disagreeable he is with a belly full of common tree rats. Honestly, did their mothers never teach them the simple decency of peace and quiet?
Francis nodded apologetically. Everyone did. The fiery bird made sure of that before giving them one last glare and flapping back to her nest. And her name was Gladys for their information, but Miss Sparrow would do just fine for them! Everyone’s shoulders were sunken, Francis’ not least of which thanks to the load of sweet and savoury peanuts on his back. They began to head out, Francis in front, the rest following close behind. Happy everyone was in one piece but shaken at what could have been and nearly was. Gerry stuck close to Chuck, feeling foolish. The scent of Watkins emanating from Francis’ pack raised his spirits at least.
The warm breeze rustled the trees sombrely as they wove across the picketway. As they waited at an intersection for another family of squirrels to pass, they could hear Sheffield crunching on the spilled peanuts in the background. Chuck hoped he’d get a stomach ache from it.
A sharp bird song cut through the ambience behind them, Miss Sparrow, Gladys, was trying to catch their attention it seemed. Likely they left some detritus behind that offended her. Well, they all turned to hear what it was. Instead, she flapped down, landing on a bush beside them, Twittering her congratulations on finally getting a fill of those... those Watkimacallits. She only hopes they’ll mind themselves and be more careful in the future.
It brought a smile to everyone’s face, perking their ears and hearts, Francis waved his thanks to her one last time as she flew off before the lot of them continued on their way back home.
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