Rose is Rose by Don Wimmer and Pat Brady for February 09, 2012

Kind of memory producing. About 1960, parents planted a peach tree in the yard, then it became all of our jobs to keep the squirrels away. Did pretty well at that, but as winter came on, the Old Man would put up a bird feeder and fill it with seed, and then try to figure out how to keep the squirrels out. I, at ten, found a way. For some reason, my parents never ate the heels from a loaf of bread, and I used to tear them up and toss them to the squirrels. They got to anticipate my gift-giving, and would wait for their “treat” about the time I was going to leave for school. As they got more used to me, they would climb the scree door looking for their handouts. Spring came, with eariler daylight, and at times I would sit on the back porch and coax the critters up to me to takje the bread out of my hand. Then, one Saturday, as I was sitting there, one squirrel climbed into my lap. It ran off but quickly returned with two little ones. Warm fuzzys that day, when I heard a slight gasp behind me and found my step-mom watching the four of us “play.” Been pretty good with animals since then.