Window to the World: A Not-so-Dramatic Story of a Visiting Pet

“Windows are a powerful existential tool… The only thing you can do is look. You have no influence over what you will see.  Your brain is forced to make drama of whatever happens to appear.  Boring things become strange.” — Sam Anderson.

What do you see in this image?

You see a window, dried-up trees, and equally dried-up land around, separated by a road and a distant building.

Well . . . I saw more.

I saw a silent drama.

It was a drama that teased my brain to make the most mundane things strange and fantastic!  I spent seven months with the companionship of this window frame and its contents, witnessing the spectacle that unfolded.

I saw the daily walkers, joggers, and the children playing at the park. I saw the daily commuters who passed by while I sipped my morning coffee.  

I saw squirrels, sparrows, woodpeckers, black songbirds, and American robins perched on a tree, and this particular tree became the center of my “window world.” 

She (for I believe all things giving are innately feminine) was a silver maple tree, my protagonist. The host.

Her name – Sylvia Planck.

From the moment I opened the blinds in the morning, greeting her a bright and happy morning, until she disappeared behind the dark curtains of the night. She stood there proud and robust, braving the whims of weather, offering boarding to whoever stopped to perch on her outstretched branches.

She swayed gently in the brutally cold winds, and her leaves fell silently on my porch.  She gleamed in the snow and shrank in the rain.  I watched her bare and dry through winter and also as she transformed into bountiful life, flaunting her greens at the turn of spring.  

It went on this way for a while until I met my second protagonist.

Enter, Protagonist 2

A second protagonist may sound strange to you; she is supposed to be a supporting character.  But you see, she is important too! 

And it is my drama, my rules.

Truth be told, I had to woo her a bit before she agreed to be cast in my drama.

One morning, sometime in mid-March, when the weather had turned down the snow.  We had just begun to see clear, dry days.  I was out on the porch getting some fresh air when I saw her. She was scurrying up and down on Sylvia and foraging in the grass below. 

I called out to her, “Psst, psst!”

She stopped in her tracks and looked up curiously for a moment. And then she turned away as if to say, “Talk to my bushy tail!”  She went about her business nut-hunting.

I rushed into the kitchen and quickly scooped up some peanuts. She was still there when I got back.

I dropped some on the ground close to her.  The first one was missed.  

I tried again. She noticed the second one and made a grab for it lest it should disappear. And then the third.

“Holy Scrat of Ice Age! It’s raining peanuts!”

Image source

She got impatient and maybe a little greedy. Deducing quickly that there was more where it came from, she hurried up the pole and was on my porch in seconds.

With a hop and a skip of a heartbeat, I kept a few nuts in a tray in the farthest corner of the porch and stepped back as I did not want to alarm her.  I was already in the habit of keeping out water for the birds. Needless to say, she had her fill and drank up. 

Now that the day’s meal was taken care of, she became more aware of her surroundings.  She looked around the porch, familiarizing herself with the wooden planks.

She then made her way to the window and climbed onto the mesh, her nails gripping easily through the net. She spent a few minutes this way, and then she was gone.

To my delight, she was back the next day. Same time.  She climbed up the window, trying to find me, perhaps. I was unsure whether she could see me or her own reflection in the glass.  But I sure saw her and brought out some nuts. 

She retreated as I slid open the window, but today she was eager enough to come closer to take her food.

And lo and behold, in two days, she started eating out of my hand.  She was bold, this one!

I named her Lady Caroline de Sciuro (after her scientific name Sciurus carolinensis – the Eastern Gray Squirrel).

This became our routine.  She would eat and drink to her fill, and then she would start burying the nuts.  That is how I knew to stop for the day.  

By now, she had also marked her territory over the porch, making a pee-line for it!

She sometimes came in the evening when she had more important matters to attend to during the day. But she came every day.  

On days I did not notice her soon enough, she waited patiently by the window, trying to peek in, her arms tucked close to her body like a T-rex and stretching up as tall as she could get on her little feet.  

I spent all day in my living room and would notice her soon enough, but how I wished she’d knock and call out to me!

Though I am positive she grumbled, “For God’s sake, Karen, get out here already! I’m hungry!”

I don’t know why I am Karen, maybe because I named her de Scuiro.

Sometimes I surprised her with cashews and hazelnuts. The first time I gave her a whole almond, she decided to save it for a rainy day and hopped away to bury it.  She would only eat the almonds when I fed her crushed pieces.

She made eager purring sounds when she got cashews, her favorite!

As time flew by, she met my husband and our flatmate. I was proud to introduce her to them.

She let them feed her as well. She became the beloved pet of apartment C-207. We were all homies now.

When I left the window open, she would venture in.  She roamed freely on the carpet and the couch as long as we didn’t get too close to her.  

Close was good when there was food!

She never allowed us to touch her, ever! But she freely held on to our fingers and buried her nose into our palms while she picked up the nuts.

She was a big attention-seeker.

Once, I deliberately ignored her and minded my own business on my laptop, and she climbed up my leg as if demanding, “Yo, I’m here! Feed me!”

I gave in, laughing at her impatience!  That was the closest she ever got to me.  

Thief! Thief!

On days I got busy, I used to leave out her food so she could eat them whenever she dropped by.  

I joined in to feed her when I got free.  But one day, to my surprise, she ran away as soon as I approached the window.  This happened a few times, and I was confused about why she was suddenly behaving this way.

Then it struck me.  It was not her!

It was a lurker!  He had watched me leaving out the food, and he was stealing Lady Caroline’s food! I didn’t mind including Mr.Sneakerell in the club.

But my esteemed patroness Lady Caroline de Scuiro, did not like it one bit.  

When he tried to join her at the meal, she went all Ross Geller mode screaming, “MYYYYYYYY PEANUTSSS!”

She chased him all around the porch until he stayed away.

She sat at the edge of the porch swishing her tail and watching out lest he returned!  I had never seen her so angry!

Maybe just one other time. She screamed her lungs out at the goose for no particular reason.

Come spring, and the Canadian geese are a common sight.

A goose once waddled towards our porch when Lady Caroline was eating and ticked her off.  She dropped her food and scrambled up to the highest point on the railings. She sat there screeching at the poor bird until it walked away.

Lady Caroline was possessive.

We had built this unspoken relationship.  We talked to each other in our own different languages nature had given us. Maybe, compassion needs no language. Suffice it to say we understood each other.

Sylvia Planck had a lot to do with this. Had she not sheltered Lady S on one of her branches, I would never have been able to meet her. She must be proud as she watched a friendship bloom before her.

Lady S always made a stop at Sylvia’s before and after visiting me. I am sure they gossiped about humans and dogs and nuts. The Lady did not like dogs. Sylvia would also be offering her own goodies to her visitors.

To think that I had made a friend in a new country, that too a furry one, was exhilarating!  It felt too good to be true.

The Trip

We had to go away for a week. Only one thing worried me. Lady S.

Anything I kept outside would get blown away by the wind.  There was no way I could leave out the food.  I had no choice.

And just as suddenly as she had come into my life, Lady S disappeared from my life.

Maybe she thought I disappeared from hers. Maybe she thought the dogs took me or some other kind of assumptions that squirrels make.

I was distraught!  I imagined her coming to my window every day, waiting with her paws folded T-rex style.  

I looked at Sylvia, scanning through her branches to see if she was hiding her.

I bet she knew what had happened.  But she would not tell me.

Mr. Sneakerell came by sometimes, and I laid out food for him.  But it was not the same.  He did not get friendly and always maintained a distance. Food was all he cared about.

It did not matter.  I missed her, and he could not replace her.  I decided something must have happened to her.  Days went by, and I could only move on as one should.

Time to say goodbye!

We were almost done with packing.  We meant to start early the next day.  We were moving out and away from Chicago to California.  So, it was our last day there.  We were lounging in the hall, tired.  It was around noon.

Out of the blue, there she was – Lady Caroline!

She just appeared with a Tada!

I looked at my husband.  “This one is ours, right?”  I asked him to confirm that I was not confusing her with Mr.Sneakerll. She had lost weight.

“She’s ours!” he said with a nod. 

I quickly ran into the kitchen to get her food.  But she was not here to eat.  Somehow I felt like she knew that I was going to leave!  

“She has come to say goodbye!” my husband said, voicing my thoughts.

She took some nuts as a formality but mostly sniffed at my hand and lingered around for a few minutes.  With those silent gestures, she was gone!  

Epilogue

Here I am in a different place in a different state. As I look out my window here, I am telling you the story of Sylvia Planck and Lady Caroline de Scuiro.  

I now have a parking view.  The trees, the birds, and the squirrels are at a distance, more in the background, too far for me to observe the drama.  But the frame still offers me its own little episodes. A story for another day, maybe, maybe not!

As for Lady S., she did come back for a few days after we left.  Our friend who stayed there for a week laid out buffets for her until, at last, he had to move out. This was the picture he shared. He had named her Chippy!

I cherish fond memories of the short time I spent in the Midwest. Even though it was short, it was the best time that was when I first found a “home” in a new country. My new friends played a huge role in making me comfortable.  And Nature had offered me its best two gems for the cameo.

What do you think of this drama? Let me know in the comments.

You can also read: 11 Surprising Facts About Living in the US Noone Tells You