Squirrel World (7 page)
Authors: Johanna Hurwitz
Home, Sweet Home
When it was daylight, I again saw PeeWee. This time it was a full reunion, with all his family around him: his mate, Plush, and their offspring, Pudge, Perky, Pip, and Squeak. Plush had grown considerably since I had last seen her, so I wasn’t surprised when she announced that in a few weeks there would be another litter of guinea pigs arriving. I’d
have a job finding still more holes to house this growing family of theirs. Lenox was right—I did seem to have gone into the real estate business.
PeeWee pulled several newspaper pages from his hole. “You’re a very famous squirrel,” he told me, “even if they don’t know your name.”
He read aloud from the newest one, which he had just found that morning:
The window on Lexington Avenue and 59th Street that has caught so much public attention of late is now empty. The two eastern gray squirrels that made it their home for the past ten days seem to have had enough of their artificial environment. They destroyed the plants and other props that they had been living among in an apparent act of protest. Even more amazing was the
sight of a thousand squirrels who arrived on the scene to view their mates and lend moral support.
“Stop a minute,” I interrupted PeeWee. “There weren’t a thousand squirrels on Lexington Avenue, were there?”
“No,” said PeeWee, laughing. “It just shows that you can’t believe everything you read in the newspaper. But you know, four hundred squirrels in a small area is a lot of squirrels. It probably seemed like a thousand to whoever wrote this article.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Go on.”
The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals had been prepared to liberate the squirrels. “This is the first time in my memory, as acting assistant to the associate director for the New
York City branch, that animals have succeeded to right a grievous wrong,” said Carl Goodman. “It proves that squirrels, and indeed all animals, have a social world. I would not be surprised if even the insect populations work together in ways that we have never understood.”
People on Lexington Avenue did not analyze the situation. They stood gaping and throwing pieces of their breakfast bagels and doughnuts to the squirrel army. “It was like going to the circus, only better,” said Ethan Richardson, age nine. His cousins Juliet and Fiona, who were standing nearby, agreed.
There was a photograph of the window in which Lenox and I had been held captive. I shuddered at the sight. “I will never, ever go to Lexington Avenue again,” I vowed.
I was home again and should have been happy, but there was still one problem. I had promised Lenox that I’d accompany him to the street that bore his name. I dreaded the thought, because I had no reason to think it would be a happier journey. But I have always been a squirrel who keeps his promises.
I started out in search of Lenox. He wasn’t in Strawberry Fields or the Ramble or any of the other areas of the park. Finally, after hours of running around, I located him in a corner near Turtle Pond. He was sitting on a tree limb, surrounded by half a dozen of our relatives.
“And then I decided that if I tore up all the plants in the window, they’d have to let us go,” he said.
For an instant, I felt great anger at my cousin. There he was, bragging about
his
plan and
his
activities. He was making himself out to be a hero when all he’d been was a whining pest during our captivity. But then a breeze came out of nowhere, bringing with it the scent of spring in the park. What did it matter if he wanted to remember our adventure his way? Let him have his admirers, I thought. At least I’m home again.
“Lenox,” I called out to him.
He looked down at me, and I saw him shudder. He must have realized that I’d overheard his boasts.
“Hello, Lexi,” he said faintly.
“When do you want to leave for Lenox Avenue?” I asked him.
“Are you going to Lenox Avenue, too?” asked one of his listeners.
“Well, to tell you the truth,” said Lenox, who a moment before seemed to have forgotten what the word
truth
meant, “I’ve been thinking. If you’ve seen one avenue, you’ve seen them all. So perhaps there’s no point to going away again.”
“I absolutely agree with you,” I said, feeling a wonderful sense of relief.
“You do?” asked Lenox.
“Yes, indeed,” I replied. “You and I have had enough adventures to last a lifetime. I’ll be perfectly happy to stay right here in the park.”
I shook my tail at Lenox and his admirers and turned away. At once, I heard one of the
squirrels say to my cousin, “So tell us what happened to you next.”
I didn’t stay to hear Lenox’s version of our expedition. I knew what really happened, and the sooner I could forget about it, the better I would sleep at night. I hurried to my side of the park, looking for PeeWee and his family.
One of the first things I had to do was arrange with PeeWee to give me more reading lessons. I don’t expect to go traveling
again, but one never knows when the skill of reading will turn out to be useful.
These days, PeeWee’s children are foraging farther afield, but PeeWee and Plush are staying closer to home. Soon there will be a new litter of guinea pigs to befriend. Soon the wild strawberries will begin to grow, too. And warm summer nights and humans’ picnics, with all their delicious leftovers, are things to look forward to. Oh, life is wonderful!
I feel sorry for all the humans who live in the city and can’t spend every minute of their time in the park. But then again, large as the park is, it can’t accommodate all the city dwellers all the time. No, Central Park is just the right size for my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and me. It is just the right size for PeeWee and his family and for
the bird population, too. “Come and visit,” I whispered to the city at large, “but don’t stay too long. This is Squirrel World. It belongs to us.”
As I approached my tree, my brother Seventy-four jumped in front of me. “I’ve heard about your adventures,” he told me. “Can I go along with you the next time you go exploring?”
“Sorry,” I told him. “You’re too late. I’m going to stop right here.”
Johanna Hurwitz
was born and raised in New York City. A former children’s librarian, she is now the award-winning author of many popular books for young readers, including
PeeWee’s Tale; Lexi’s Tale; PeeWee & Plush; Oh No, Noah!; Class Clown; Rip-Roaring Russell;
and
Baseball Fever
. The recipient of the Texas Bluebonnet Award, New Mexico’s Land of Enchantment Book Award, and other child-chosen awards, she visits schools around the world to speak to students, teachers, and parents about reading and writing. She lives in Great Neck, New York, and Wilmington, Vermont.
Kathi McCord
has illustrated more than 40 books for children. Kathi is also a printmaker, and her etchings are in many collections and exhibited in galleries across the United States. She lives in San Diego, California.
Text © 2007 by Johanna Hurwitz.
Illustrations © 2007 by Kathi McCord.
All rights reserved.
The illustrations in this book were rendered in pencil.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.
ISBN: 978-1-4521-2527-5
Chronicle Books LLC
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San Francisco, California 94107