In the forest
The mighty forest
The squirrel sleeps tonight.
Except for this one night
When he was awoken
By a strange ‘un-forest-like’ noise…
“Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick-ma!”
Squizzel (for that was his name) rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and shook his head to clear away his dreams of hidden treasure. He leant out of his bole-hole in an old Oak tree and listened carefully for the sound to happen once more.
In a short time…
“Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick-ma-da-na!”
He heard the sound – which was more a single voice – coming from the direction of the fallen tree-trunk.
“I shall have to go take a looksie.” Proclaimed Squizzel, to nobody in particular. And he prepared himself for… “An ‘adventure!’ ”
Squizzel was an only child.
And he lived on his own.
But, he was a good squirrel, a red one at that, with a sense of humour and a love of squirrel-life.
He was also particularly brave. Or stupid about the dangerousness of danger. However, he had reached the ripe old age of three, and was an essential part of the forest scene.
Squizzel uttered his battle-cry “Chir-a-chir-chip!” and set forth.