Photo By Jennifer Botkin Phillips “Sammy” the squirrel, unaware of his stalker, continues to hunt for nuts.

Sitting up straighter and peering ahead I saw the cutest little eastern gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) you ever did see on patch of grass by a mound of dirt next to the base of a pine tree. He was a handsome little fella who was scampering about, digging for nuts and, most likely, since the eastern gray squirrel is a scatter-hoarder, burying them for later recovery. When he’d find a nut he’d lean back on his haunches with his plump, white belly showing and his fluffy, bushy tail flowing across the grass. He was clearly pure squirrel, but he was busier than a beaver digging away for his next morsel faster than a youngster licking away at an ice cream cone.

Something about this industrious little guy captured my imagination and before I knew it, I was reaching up and turning off the ignition. Without missing a beat, I began deftly reaching across to the passenger seat where my handbag lay to fetch my camera tucked inside. I like to carry it with me in case I happened upon a National Geographic moment. Yes, I know. Wishful thinking. But, just the right angle could result in a snapshot of significance, right?

Camera in hand I gently opened my Jeep door so as not to cause the little critter to scamper away and closed it just enough to walk around and past it to the front of my vehicle. Upon reaching that vantage point, and feeling a little silly by my infatuation with a squirrel, I glanced about my surroundings.

The lady in the car to my right was staring directly at me through her window glass with a fairly blank expression. But, the lady in the vehicle to my left had rolled down her window, was leaning my way, and was saying something. Bending down so I could make eye contact, she began with her story of how a deer had come into her yard recently and had sauntered up closer than arm’s length almost to her face. She apparently had noticed my camera in hand because she went on to say that she didn’t have her camera… and that she’d missed the moment. Ah, we must have been cut from a similar cloth. I’ve missed more photographic moments than I’d care to admit!

By now, the squirrel I affectionately dubbed “Sammy” (what else do you call a eastern gray squirrel?) showed no sign of being skittish and departing from his territory. Thus, I took baby steps to get even closer and snapped another shot. Sammy, so far oblivious to the whimsical lady in a pink jogging suit, continued foraging for food so I clicked again.

A few moments later, a distinguished and kind faced older gentleman ambled my way and began conversing. As it turned out, I knew the man! His name was Carl. We’d met through our volunteer work at the polls for the elections. He told me about a squirrel he’d seen scampering about his yard that had come right up to his porch.

After Carl left, I got even braver and moved in closer. With that, “Sammy” scurried up the tree landing on a level branch all while still clutching his prized food supply. Why I’d wanted yet another angle is anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t like I was in Montana when you’re driving through Yellowstone, ’s first National Park, and you come upon a string of various sized vehicles pulled off the road onto the shoulder with people spilling out of them up and down the road sporting binoculars, video cameras, and telephoto lenses. If you happen upon a scene like this, you know that some form of spectacular wildlife (bears, buffalo, or elk) is grazing nearby and you just might capture a beautiful and rare moment for all time.

No, I was right here in our beautiful, semi-bucolic Pascack Valley stalking a squirrel, a species considered a vermin by insurance companies.

Spring’s arrival can do funny things to people. Enjoying a balmy day after a brisk winter can incite you to make much ado even about a scampering squirrel.

Until next time… Top Blonde… on the run.