Fast, sleek, and lithe, the marten was no one to fool with. Every squirrel in the woods knew it. You did not hide on the backside of a tree trunk and expect to elude a marten. No sir, the fury and speed of the marten was certain death to anyone foolish enough not to seek cover.
It was in this way that a young squirrel was caching nuts in a crook of a limb when another squirrel alerted it to the presence of a marten. It headed straight for a large woodpecker hole. But the equally large bird was inside. It was incubating some eggs.
The squirrel looked in every direction. Then the marten was upon it.
This is the way things are in the woods, the complacent bird sitting upon its nest, the greased lightening of a marten settling down on a limb for a nap. It just is.
Copyright 2013 George Lowell Tollefson