The bellowing easterly wind caused a clanking commotion amongst the cacophonous collection of wind chimes dispersed throughout Bluebird Creek. The small neighborhood, nestled in the lush rolling landscape of south central Kentucky, was home to many curious creatures, and one Jerry the Squirrel.
Jerry clung to the trunk of the leafless maple tree, boughs swaying gently, despite the gale. His fat little body, cloaked in rusty brown furry down, hugged the rough bark as he twitched his blinking crinkling gray fuzzy face--checking for enemies.
Though it was a cold winter day, the ground was brilliant green. Only the teeming sprawl of barren deciduous life forms betrayed the time of year to the eye. The snapping wind was enough to convince the cheek and the nose of unfurry faces, though wrapped in thick colorful scarves and hats.
Jerry scratched his way cautiously toward the ground. It was mid afternoon and almost time for supper, which would be a feast of his prized cache of dried corn, berries, and a fat, juicy black walnut.
It was a special day for Jerry's family, a very special day indeed, worthy of much celebration. Jerry was pleased with himself for having prepared ahead of time. Although, naturally it was his job, he took pride in a job well done. Now, if only he could remember exactly where he had hidden the treasure...
TO BE CONTINUED
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