This post is part of a project in the works; "An Ogemaw County Year". The blog and eventually the book will encompass nature noticing, research and facts over the course of a year with a watercolor painting for each entry. Originals and prints will be available via the website as they are completed and prepped and the book will be available upon completion.
On a chilly winter morning, the world outside my sliding glass doors is blanketed in a soft layer of snow. Frost clings to the trees, and the air is crisp and biting. Amidst the serene winter landscape, a small, vibrant figure appears—a flash of red against the white. It’s a young red squirrel, his russet fur standing out vividly against the snow.
I’ve seen this little squirrel many times before, though I never named him. His distinctive feature—a missing toe on his front foot—makes him easy to recognize. Unlike the more skittish squirrels around, he seems comfortable near the house, even venturing close to the sliding glass door where my old faithful dog naps in the warmth inside. Despite his long-healed injury, he moves with purpose, darting across the snow-covered ground and leaving delicate paw prints behind.
Red squirrels, Tamiasciurus hudsonicus, are known for their territorial nature and busy habits. This young one, likely born in late spring or early summer, is no exception. He already shows the industrious behavior that defines his species. During the warmer months, he would have spent hours gathering and storing food, creating hidden caches to sustain himself through the barren winter. I imagine his small paws, even with that missing toe, still working tirelessly to cache seeds and nuts wherever he found space.
Today, he sits upright on his hind legs, scanning the yard with his bright, inquisitive eyes. His fluffy tail twitches as he watches for movement, always alert. I notice he’s grown bolder in recent weeks, edging closer to the house and the bird feeders where he helps himself to the seeds I scatter for the jays. His red fur almost glows against the pale backdrop, a reminder of warmth even in the quietest months of the year.
Red squirrels often get a bad reputation for being aggressive and chewing through anything in search of food, but I find myself enjoying his presence. There’s a balance we’ve struck—by keeping food at the feeders, far from the house, he doesn’t venture too close to where he might cause trouble. Instead, he sticks to the yard, a regular visitor in this shared winter space.
Even the old dog, who usually leaves his post at the side of the wood stove under only the most dire circumstances, will shuffle over to press his print-making nose against the cold window glass to watch the little rodent. The sight of this tenacious little red squirrel has become a familiar comfort, a small but vivid reminder of nature’s adaptability. As the squirrel scampers off across the snow, leaving tiny tracks that crisscross the yard, I can’t help but feel grateful for the quiet moments we share, watching the bold adventures of this missing-toed red squirrel as he navigates the winter world.
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