Nutkin Realty

[Author's Note: This was written for the 25th Annual Geauga Parks District Nature Writing Contest. It did not place. I'm sharing it here anyway, because I happen to like it.]

“This here is a century tree,” said the chipmunk, patting the trunk next to him. “And boy has it withstood the passages of time. They don’t plant them like this anymore, I tell you.”

Hazel looked up the tree. She held her bushy tail in her left paw and Walter’s paw in her other. “I don’t know,” she said. “You said the previous owners were owls?”

The chipmunk chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “But they’re long gone. Left one great hollow, I tell you. And when you look out the hole, it’s like you’re looking at your own private park.”

Hazel looked over to Walter. He took a moment before realizing that she was looking at him. “What?” he said.

“Don’t you think,” she said, “that owls having lived here might be a concern?”

Walter watched the leaves blowing in the breeze. “They don’t live here anymore, do they?” he asked nobody in particular.

“No,” said the chipmunk. “Long gone.”

“See,” he said, giving Hazel’s paw a squeeze. “Long gone.”

“But, Walter,” she said, “what if they come back?”

“They’re long gone,” he said. “Besides, we can build a fence or a gate. I’ve been meaning to do something like that, once we had the right place, that is.”

“You folks want to see the inside?” asked the chipmunk.

“In a moment, Al,” said Hazel. “I just need to discuss something with Walter here.” Again, she gave him the look.

“We’ll be up in a jif, Al,” said Walter. “Go ahead without us.”

“Sure thing,” said the chipmunk. “You’ll love the floor plan, I tell you.” He scurried up the trunk of the tree.

“What is it?” said Walter.

“I’m not so sure about this whole thing,” she said.

He pointed to the hollow several yards up. “You mean this place? It seems nice.”

“I mean this whole trying to find a new home. Where did you find that chipmunk?”

“A buddy from work recommended him.”

“I’m not so sure about his credentials,” she said. “I mean, that first place…”

“The groundhog didn’t know we were going to be looking today. Simple mistake.”

“And the last place?”

“What was wrong with it?”

“It was a literal hole in the wall,” she said, punctuating each word.

“It needed a little work, but unless you’re going to dig your own hole, you’re going to get that.”

“I don’t know, Walter,” she said. “I just want a place to raise kids, and not get eaten by owls. Is that so bad?”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for a squeeze. “I’m sure this place is different from those other places. Al says they’re long gone. I’ll build a fence, and we can fill the place with kids. What do you say?”

Hazel sighed. “Well, let’s take a look first.”

Walter nodded. He climbed the tree, Hazel followed after. Al waited for them in the entryway. The hollow was large enough to house a small family of owls, but beyond the size, there wasn’t a trace of owl feather or fewmet to be found. Hazel looked in every corner for even a wayward bit of downy fluff or nesting straw.

“Long gone?” she said.

“Long gone,” said Al with a smile. “What do you think?”

Walter nodded. “I like the open concept,” he said. “You could do a lot with it. What do you think, Hazel?”

She looked around the hollow, but then she remembered what Al had said about the view. She turned and faced away the hollow, looking out onto nature. The leaves shifted slowly in the wind, like green waves crashing on woody shores, and through the holes in the canopy shot buttery rays of sunlight. Off in the distance, songbirds sang their melodies, and a gentle breeze carried the smell of flowers and nuts into the hollow.

“I think we can make it work,” she said.