My backyard is one of great beauty and, relatively speaking, expansiveness. The magnificent trees that are found on the enclosure stand as proud sentinels encircling a private playground to various members of the local wildlife. This pristine setting attracts bunnies, a few woodchucks, one or two opossums, a couple of raccoons, numerous birds, vacationing geese, and a slew of squirrels.

I don’t know if my yard has received a “Better Wildlife and Gardens” seal of approval, but it is probably heralded by numerous fine dining publications made solely available to critters and fowl of the area. Residents and visitors (no reservation required) will find a plethora of corn, bird treats, nuts, and other gastronomical delights awaiting their pleasure. Yes, all in all, my yard offers the finest in culinary and residential accommodations.

As innkeeper of this establishment, I do my best to keep the area well maintained and, as much as possible, free of predators. The only payment I demand is that the bunnies look cute, the woodchucks don’t chuck too much wood, the opossums remain nocturnal, the raccoons wash their food before eating, the birds sing, the geese don’t poop all over the place, and the squirrels have good, clean fun. I don’t think that is too much to ask. Apparently, however, the squirrels think otherwise.

Yesterday afternoon, I was gazing out at a wonderful sight. As the glorious rays of the sun were blissfully coating my yard in a blanket of warm and golden luxury, two squirrels were playfully wrestling with each other on the lawn. Their antics were very entertaining and, as I stood looking out on the scene, I reveled in the innocence of nature’s offerings. Yes, the squirrels were having good, clean fun just as they always seem to do.

Suddenly and without warning of any kind, one of the squirrels climbed onto the furry backside of its partner. For a moment, I thought this was just another wrestling hold and that within an instant a new childlike game would commence. I was wrong.

My sweet smile turned to a mouth-dropped expression of astonishment and embarrassment as I realized that the squirrels weren’t engaged in an athletic competition. The couple was having sex! “Hey,” I yelled, “this isn’t an X-rated yard! Take your seedy (or would that be “nutty?”) act somewhere else! What do you think this is? A motel for squirrel nooky!”

>From what I could see, the lust-enraptured pair didn’t seem at all concerned about my protestations. Sex was the order of the day and some silly human’s complaints would not be heeded.

Squirrel intercourse is something that is very natural and, I suspect, quite enjoyable for the participants, but did this couple have to be doing such a thing in the center of my backyard and in the light of day? Aren’t acts of such intimacy and privacy more appropriate in trees or at least behind bushes? As I tried to tear my eyes from the sexual circus of erotic festivities, I thought, “Oh my God. I hope the bunnies don’t see this! If they do, I’ll have to purchase a much bigger yard!”

As the dance of carnal excitement continued, I noted that the female squirrel was dressed in a very provocative outfit. An almost diaphanous leaf had managed to adhere itself to her body. Surely this would-be negligee was designed to tantalize her partner into performing even greater feats of sexual activity. “Oh you hussy!” I exclaimed.

On the other hand, Mr. Furry Stud had probably spent the past few weeks salivating over a trove of “PlaySquirrel” magazines and was undoubtedly sexually ravenous by the time he and his significant other entered my yard.

Finally, the pair ended their tango of raunch-engorged pleasure. I wondered if they would pop a bottle of champagne and then smoke a few cigarettes, but instead they went their own way and disappeared into the trees. “My Lord,” I blurted out, “you’re not even married! Have you no shame?”

Somewhere in the denizens of my yard of ill repute, two bunnies were probably saying, “Okay, let’s go. We’re on!”

I’m not a prude and do love wildlife, but squirrels, bunnies, and other animals really ought to have consensual sex somewhere other than in the broad daylight of my yard. I run a very respectable establishment and have no desire to watch it being turned into a sin-filled den of iniquity. I mean, what’s next? Can I expect the opening of an opossum bordello?

This is only the end of March and I’m very worried about what will happen when the lusty month of May eventually arrives.

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You can find more articles in the archive under Reflections on a Dream