Nuts for the Winter

"Black Walnut on Bedspread"

My husband and I share a vacation home with friends. A five-hour drive from our primary residence in Maine, we go there less in winter as it is often buried under feet of snow, being in New York's Hudson Valley. Still exceptions are made, and we arrived here a few days ago to ring in the new year, discovering that during our last absence a new tenant had moved in. We assume him to be a squirrel.

The new guy runs around in the walls and ceiling when he thinks we're asleep. He's actually quite noisy, giving himself away each time. But the real way we know he's here is his habit of storing food for the winter in random hideouts around the house. Thus far I have come upon no less than nine whole black walnuts in odd places, the oddest being under the covers at the foot of our bed.

This morning I found one hidden between two pillows on one of the guest beds. Yesterday there were two nestled between the couch cushions and another behind the toilet in the downstairs bath. Each time I've come across one I have seized it as evidence, shown it to whoever is around, and then hurled it out across the front lawn. But then, following a night of snow and freezing rain, when I found one this morning I hesitated, thinking of the poor squirrel going back to each hiding place and finding it empty. How would that feel, I wondered. Would he doubt his sanity, thinking he had left it somewhere else? That he's in the wrong house after all? And too, what will he eat when the big snows come, as surely they will?

Against the advice of my housemates, I left the one I found today undisturbed. After all, we're leaving in a hour and there is all that snow on the ground. What does it hurt?