Squirts

Not long ago, while standing on our porch, I thought I heard a cat mewing repetitive distress. My eyes searched the area near the house. I discovered the source of what would be more appropriately described as clicking noises, coming from the trees.



It seems the lass on the left was in the midst of a whirlwind courtship. I observed the rascal on the right gather his courage and climb up to join her.



Moments after these romantic photographs were snapped, the suitor chased the pulchritudinous prize down the trunk to the ground, where they raced under the woodshed and passed into the forest.



I lost sight, but I could hear increasingly frantic activity amidst the dense growth and -- go, girl! -- the young miss zoomed across the driveway into the opposing brush. Six lads, all attired identically, were in hot pursuit.

I shook my head and dared to speak me wisdom, "Prom Night."