In autumn the squirrels bury acorns – each one (so I’ve read) placed fastidiously in its proper place and cataloged in the little rodent’s mind by the process of geometric triangulation.
I’ll accept that as fact – I believe the tree-rodents in my yard are much more cunning and clever than we mortals give them credit for.
So, on an early June day when I look down at my flowerbeds and see an aerial view of a two-inch tall oak forest, I can only conclude that, like most geniuses, squirrels just can’t be bothered cleaning up after themselves – acrobatic absent-minded professors.
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