In the Middle of A Sea of Fur

As a kid growing up in rural Florida, summers were spent going fishing as a family. MY parents knew every place fish swam and what would bite. I was in charge of helping the younger kids bait their hooks, get things to drink and eat, and find the bathroom. I didn't do much in the way of actually fishing.

One of the places we went, my favorite place, was Hillsborough River State Park. Not only did we go there to fish, but there was the 'Swinging' bridge, picnic tables, lots of walking trails and other park things to do and see.

I recall one summer when the little kids were bigger and could bait their own hooks.  That left me more freedom to enjoy the park. To walk about, to watch the people and see the wildlife.

After lunch, the other family members took off in all directions to do what pleased them. I was left under the pavilion where another relative and I were enjoying the summer breeze and talking.

We were eating from a bag of Cheetos and getting cheese puff debris all over our fingers and lips. A little squirrel came scampering up and began eating of the food crumbs on the cement floor. There wasn't much there  and I threw a Cheeto down for him. He picked it up quickly and scampered off.

In a few minutes, he was back with a friend. Or maybe a family member. We couldn't tell, but my companion tossed down a couple of Cheetos. The two squirrels each picked one up and ran away.

Before long they were both back and had their whole family. We laughed and began breaking up the Cheetos in order to give all a piece. We talked about what my mom would think about giving the hard-earned cheesy treat to a bunch of squirrels.

The same scenario happened, then and a few more times until we could see squirrels scampering from every direction.

 And then  my companion shouted, "Shirley, look!" She pointed behind me. 

I turned and saw hundreds of squirrels. They were everywhere. All over the tables, benches, the cement floor and the dirt beyond the pavilion. And hundreds more were still coming. We didn't have enough Cheetos to give half of them a small piece. It was somewhat scary to us. After all, we were only kids.

Thankfully, they weren't dangerous and quickly scattered when we began saying, "Shoo," and waving our arms. Then we sat down on the bench and began to laugh.

It was a great time, but when my mother heard, she was not amused. Though she scolded us for 'wasting' the Cheetos, we thought it was a wonderful experience. And it brings me pleasure still today to recall being there, standing in the middle of a sea of fur. Some with 'cheese flavored stuff' stuck to it.