Secret Squirrel

“Come in central, this is Fuzzy One. Do you copy?”

“We copy Fuzzy One. Do you have anything to report?”

“Only that I’m really bored. I’m your number one secret squirrel and you assigned me to this clown! My investigative talents are being wasted here.”

“Sorry, Fuzzy, but we feel you’re the best squirrel for the job. Give us your report, please.”

“Okay, I hope you can stay awake through this. My subject awoke around seven this morning, dressed, ate something mushy out of a bowl, and left his house. He didn’t take his big car but opted for his miniature one instead. That worked to my advantage because I could hop on the back bumper undetected. He drove at a much slower speed on regular roads where the big vehicles normally drive. This greatly annoyed the big vehicle drivers who blew their horns and gave him a one-finger salute. My subject remained oblivious to the other drivers and never moved to the shoulder of the road. Apparently, he’s one of those self-entitled humans.”

“My subject pulled up this long curvy driveway that ended at the entryway to an enormous house. I figure there must be many people living here because there are so many little cars parked outside. My subject must be visiting someone living here. I can’t verify that because if I were to enter this building, it would blow my cover.”

“Yes, I was right! I only had to wait twenty minutes before my subject emerged with three other men. Each one hopped onto their own miniature car and we all drove to a grassy field. I have never seen so much mowed grass. There have to be acres of it. One would think that with so much land available, a human would plant crops on it. I had heard there were people starving all around the world and all they grow here is grass. These humans are strange indeed.”

“All the mini-cars stopped at the same place and the men got out. I ran under the vehicle to maintain my cover. My human grabbed a long metal pole with a fat end on it, walked to a specific place on the grass, and stopped. Next, he placed a ball on a small object, stood over it, and hit the ball with the pole. The other men in the group cheered and patted him on the back as the ball flew over the field. I remained in my hiding spot as each man copied my subject.”

“After the last man hit his ball, they all got back in their carts and drove to where their balls had landed. Much to my surprise, instead of retrieving their balls, they hit them away with a different pole. Once again, we drove along the field to reclaim the ball. What type of madness is this? Just when I think the insanity has peaked, the next phase starts.”

“We drive to a place where the grass was cut extremely short. There was a tall pole with a flag attached sticking out of a hole. One man removed the pole and everyone took a turn at hitting his ball into the hole. The participants act like there is a significant amount of skill involved with this. Squirrels drop nuts in holes all the time and no one thinks anything of it. What I find puzzling is once they put the ball in the hole, they take it out again.”

“I thought once they completed this strange ritual, the men would return to the big house. Again, I am mistaken. Each man, in proper order, hits his ball into a different field. This insane process has repeated itself eighteen times now. Based on the information I’m gathering from their conversation; this is the last time they will perform this ceremony. From here they will return to the big house where they will join others for one more gathering at a place called the Nineteenth Hole. As for me, I’ll remain in this mini-car and wait for a ride back to my subject’s house. On the bright side, I haven’t seen one dog or cat all day.”