Two squirrels dropped by one early June morning. I spied the first one, sitting high atop the crown of the old, weeping mulberry tree. His tiny paws were a blur of motion, as he frantically plucked and stuffed berries into his mouth, with a speed that would make a Nathan’s hot dog eating contestant, weep with jealousy. However, there seemed to be something troubling this squirrel. Following his gaze, I spied the competition. He had cause to be concerned. Below him was a very sneaky squirrel. She had made herself a comfortable perch, deep in the crook of twisted branches and under the cover of foliage was bingeing at the berry buffet. Ah, Frick and Frack were at it again, and it was not yet mulberry season. Early fruit is small, light red and tart. Ripe mulberries are larger, deep purple, bursting with juicy sweetness and make the best pancakes. Knowing that good things come to those who wait, led me to ponder, was the couple impatient this year or was latter trying to get the drop on the former? One can only wonder about those two.

Frick and Frack was how our son-in-law, Dave, once referred to Mr. Bill and I, when in frustration, he asked our son Will, if he could marry our daughter Audry. Why the modern twist on an old tradition? Being a chivalrous man, when Dave and Audry began dating, he informed us that his intentions were honorable. Mr. Bill and I were charmed and the more we got to know Dave, the more we liked him. We wondered, was marriage in their future? Yet the course of true love never runs smooth, but how were we to know that we’d become an impediment on the road to the altar? As a courtesy, Dave wanted to ask for Mr. Bill’s blessing before proposing, but apparently, his plan was thwarted at every attempt. It was 2017 and Dave’s opportunities for a heart to heart with Mr. Bill were limited. Mr. Bill and I were unusual snowbirds, migrating between new Zealand and Florida and our time in the Sunshine State was brief. Dave planned to speak to Mr. Bill, man to man, before we departed for the little country at the bottom of the world. Unfortunately the chance to talk one on one, never presented itself. Carpe Diem became Carpe Noctem. Stymied but determined, the frustrated suitor did a run around. Dave asked Will, explaining, ” your parents are like Frick and Frack, always together”! Big brother Will, happily gave his ‘permission’ but naturally didn’t bother to tell us; which made the excited, ‘I’m engaged call’, a delightful surprise.

Hmmm, Frick and Frack, well why not? I get it and so do my little rodent friends. Like Mr. Bill and I, they are always together and their antics are quite entertaining. I often catch their high pitched chatter as I watch Frick chase Frack up, down and around the mulberry tree. They jump from branch to branch, then disappear from sight behind the green privacy screen. Mulberries tumble to the ground, as the tree shimmies and shakes, and I find myself wanting to rap on the window and holler, “GET A ROOM”! Decorum not shenanigans is preferable in our backyard. After all, there are standards to uphold, when living in a close knit community, and the squirrels are not our only neighbors. Our way back is home to turkeys, owls, blue jays, cardinals, sparrows, doves, crows, red tailed hawks, bats, rabbits, chipmunks, mice, deer, foxes, feral cats, bobcats, snakes and my old pal, Tubby, the ground hog. Yet Frick and Frack’s antics threaten to turn our peaceable kingdom into a wildlife zone, where anything goes. We have rules. All are welcome, but the house is stickly off limits. When Carpenter Bees arrived one summer with their tiny tools and began boring holes in the roof soffit, we sent them packing. Ditto for the cheeky woodpecker, who had a fondness for our cedar shingles. The time I nearly stepped on a wee mouse napping on the back stairs, I gave him a stern lecture about boundaries, before setting him free outside. Once Mr. Bill was called to duty to remove the confused garden snake from the basement- that was most definitely a boy job! Now we have had to give the chipmunks a dose of tough love. As cute as Chip and Dale are, they have been issued their eviction notice. Rules are rules. The ‘Chipmunkinator’ Have a Heart Trap is in place. We may be strict but we are not heartless. They are packing their bags as I write and their illegal entrance will be sealed shut. I’m confident, that Frick and Frack being good sorts, will throw a farewell party and help Chip and Dale move into new digs.

I asked Mr. Bill who he thought he was in the Frick and Frack scenario. He shrugged, not particularly interested. Come on, I urged, who would you be? But Mr. Bill expressed no preference, leaving me to choose. Easy. In my mind, Mr. Bill was always Frick, since Frick is first, but don’t tell Mr. Bill! If he knows he’s number one, he’ll get, THE BIG HEAD, and won’t fit through the door. Then he’ll be living in the way back, with all the other wild things.