Horace, the Cowboy Squirrel

by Stan Paregien, Sr.

Copyright 1994

The strangest thing happened to me a couple of years ago. I was mending fences over on the back side of my place, the Circle P Ranch, when lunch time rolled around. I had brought along a sack lunch, so I tethered my mare where she could crop grass there in the meadow and I sat down under a big, old pecan tree to eat my lunch. I finished my sandwich and leaned back up against that big, old pecan tree to take a short nap.

And that's when I hear the voices. Thought there for a minute I was goin' crazy, don't you know? But then I heard them, again. Two, tiny voices coming from inside a hollow place in the tree trunk.

Do you know who was talking? Two squirrels. One was an old squirrel, 'cause I could tell by his squeaky, shaky voice. And the other was a real young squirrel. The old squirrel was telling the young one about something that had happened to the old squirrel's mother, a long time ago. I'm gonna tell you that story just the way that old squirrel told it, as best I can remember it.

Many years ago, back before there were barbed wire fences or cars, there was a cowboy squirrel named Horace. He wore a fancy red bandanna around his neck and a huge, gray cowboy hat on his head. And around his stomach he wore a leather belt with a shiny, silver belt buckle the size of a quarter. He always kept his lariat or rope tied to that belt and hanging by his side. And on his back feet he wore a pair of red cowboy boots, each with a big, white star on the front, and with mule-ear flaps on the sides.

He lived in a nice home inside this big, old pecan tree. The beautiful green meadow that was the same then as now. Only there were not very many human-type people back then. And that's why we squirrels call it the "good old days".

Now, Horace the cowboy squirrel had lived there in that big, old pecan tree all of his life. His mother and father moved into the hole in the tree trunk before he was born. He lived there with them and with his brothers and sisters for many years.

Later, he had his own family and they lived in the same snug hole in that same big, old pecan tree. But everyone else eventually died or moved away, and he was by himself and lonely as he could be.

However, Horace the squirrel would not admit that he was lonely. And he certainly wouldn't let his feelings show by crying. "Cowboy squirrels ain't supposed to cry," he often said, probably as a result of eavesdropping on those loud-talking human-type cowboys who sometimes stopped to rest in the shade of the big, old pecan tree.

It had been a lovely autumn that year. From high on his favorite limb, he watched the meadow turn from green to gold and the leaves on his tree home turn golden brown and fall to the ground, one by one. Swish. Swish. Swish.

Now, as Horace the cowboy squirrel lay on the limb and surveyed the world around he, he felt a gusty north wind ruffling his winter coat of thick, dark brown hair. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. The temperature got colder and colder, and the wind got stronger and stronger. WHOOSE! WHOOSE! WHOOSE!

"Winter is almost here," he said to himself. "I better stock my pantry with food."

So Horace the cowboy squirrel with the red bandanna and gray cowboy hat ran back along the limb to the trunk of that big, old pecan tree and wound his way down to the ground. He began to hunt for pecans hidden among the leaves. He was a pretty big squirrel, as squirrels go, so he made a lot of noise as he walked across the leaves. Squash-squash. Squash-squash. Squash-squash.

There was not another squirrel on that ranch, or in the whole wide world, who hunted pecans quite like Horace the cowboy squirrel. When he found a big, juicy pecan, he made a wide loop �with his little rope and ran around the nut three times, shouting as he ran, "I'm an old cowhand, from the Rio Grande, and I'm rounding up another pecan."

Then he would toss that loop into the air and smile as it settled down over the pecan. He'd tie that rope around the pecan in a half-hitch knot, so it wouldn't slip, and then he'd drag it across the leaves...Squash-squash. Squash-squash. Squash-squash.

And up the big, old pecan tree he would dash. It was hard work, pulling that big nut all the way up there. And Horace was huffing and puffing by the time he got to the top and stopped on his porch step just inside the hole in that big, old pecan tree. It took him five whole days to pick up all of the pecans on the ground beneath that big, old pecan tree. And he barely finished before snow started to fall. He had so many nuts in his pantry that he had to start storing them in his bedroom closet.

But he soon filled that right up to the top. So he stored some more nuts under his bed. He put pecans in his refrigerator, inside his dishwasher and even in his bathtub. But he still had so many nuts that he had to stack the rest in the middle of his living room, right up to the ceiling.

Well, ol' Horace the cowboy squirrel was as snug as a bug in a rug and as happy as a female slug with an ugly mug who got a strong hug from a handsome lug. He had a nice, warm home and more food than he would ever need during the long winter months.

Suddenly, though, he heard a faint tapping on his front door. Tap. Tap. Tap. At first he thought maybe it was just the wind blowing a branch up against his door. But it got louder. TAP. TAP. TAP. And then it got so loud that he jumped right up out of his easy chair. TAP! TAP! TAP!

Horace opened his door just a little bit, so he could see who was knocking. He didn't want to be bothered by someone selling insurance or magazines, don't you know? But when he looked out he saw that it was another squirrel, a woman squirrel who lived far across the big meadow. He had seen the woman and her husband one day, from a long way off, and he remembered how pretty she was.

The old squirrel who was telling this here story, why he said that this woman squirrel was his mother. Oh, but she didn't look very pretty right now. She had a blue wool scarf wrapped around her head and a ragged black shawl around her shoulders. And the fierce winter storm dropped snowflakes all over her fur.

"Mr. Hor..Hor...Horace," she said, shivering from the cold, "may I ta...ta...talk with you a min...min...minute, please?"

Horace stood there with his mouth wide open. He didn't know what to do, because he had not had any company at his house for such a long, long time. Finally he said, "Oh, pardon me, do come in out of the weather."

Her fingers trembled as she took the blue scarf down from off of her pretty head. "I've heard of you, Mr. Horace, from some of our neighbors across the meadow, before they moved away to try to find more food and warmer places to live. They said you lived in the best and warmest tree house they'd ever seen and that your big, old pecan tree always produces more nuts than all of the other trees in the forest put together. And now I believe them," she said, looking around at the nuts stacked up to the ceiling of his living room.

Now Horace was embarrassed. He rubbed the toe of his right boot against the heel of his left boot. He felt his face turning as red as his cowboy bandanna. "Oh, I...uh,...I guess maybe I am doing okay," he stammered. "What did you say your name is?"

"My name is Harriet. And I've come to ask you--no, to beg you--to please share some of your nuts with me and my family. My children and I live in a small house in a small hole in a small pecan tree that never has many nuts. And this year it had almost none."

Horace caught himself starring into the woman squirrel's beautiful brown eyes. "Couldn't your husband get out and find any pecans around the other trees on your side of the meadow?"

Tears fell from Harriet's beautiful brown eyes as she softly said, "My husband caught a terrible cold last winter, trying to dig through the snow to find nuts for our family, and he died. And this summer a forest fire cut through what few other pecan trees there were on our side of the meadow. So my young son and daughter and I are running low on food. Would you please share a few of your pecans with us, Mr. Horace? We are all cold and soooo hungry at our house."

Poor Horace. He had been away from other squirrels for so long that he had forgotten what tears looked like. Or felt like. And before he knew what was happening, he was crying right along with her. First, just a little. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. Then, as his own crying caused Harriet to cry even more, he began to cry as he had not allowed himself to do for many years. BOO-HOO! BOO-HOO! BOO-HOO! His big, round tears flooded down his furry cheeks like a flow of hot lava from some erupting volcano.

"I always thought cowboys weren't supposed to cry," Horace said as he wiped his eyes with his red cowboy bandanna. "But I feel better now, just like my heart has been set free. And, shucks, Miss Harriet, I don't really need all these nuts you see here. I'll even deliver some over to your house, if you'll show me the way."

"Why, Mr. Horace, you mean to tell me that you've never been over to the other side of the meadow to visit with any of your neighbors?"

Now He was really embarrassed, and his face was glowing redder than his cowboy boots. "Oh, a long time ago, before my wife died and our kids got married and moved to town, why we crossed the meadow a lot to see our friends. But, well, I don't know what happened to me. Seems stupid, now, but I just felt like no one needed me and I didn't need anyone."

Horace the cowboy squirrel wiped his nose with his cowboy bandanna. "Shucks, Miss Harriet, what are we standing around here for? We're just burnin' daylight standing here yakking away like those silly human-type people who sometimes come through the forest."

And with that, Horace opened the door to his cozy, warm house. And the bitterly cold wind roared in. He picked up a big, juicy pecan in his hands and walked out on his porch and tossed it over the side. It whistled as it fell about thirty feet and landed softly in an inch of new snow. Whistle-thump. He threw down three more large pecans. Whistle-thump. Whistle-thump. Whistle-thump.

Then Horace and his new friend, Harriet, raced down the trunk of the big, old pecan tree, laughing all the way. "Beat ya," she said. "Did not," he said with a grin, not really caring who won the race.

Horace the cowboy squirrel untied the rope hanging from his cowboy belt and tied the four large nuts together. He put the end of the rope over his shoulder and leaned against it with all of his might. He dragged them about ten feet and he had to stop to rest. Normally, he could have easily pulled four nuts across the ground that way. But not with an inch of snow on the ground.

"Please, Mr. Horace," let me help you," Harriet said, taking a firm hold on the rope with him. "Two can always do a lot more than one."

And sure enough, together they were able to pull the nuts across the wide meadow and down into the woods. Soon they arrived at a scrawny looking pecan tree. And there, looking out of the front door of their small house inside a small hole way up in this small tree were two small children squirrels, Holly and Henry.

"Mommy, mommy, you're back. And that mean old Mr. Horace is helping you!"

Now it was Harriet's turn to be embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Horace. I'm afraid that all of us on this side of the meadow had the wrong idea about you."

"No, I guess maybe they were right about me. Until now. But if you'll give me a chance, I'll try to be a better neighbor."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Horace. And when we get these nuts up to my kitchen, I'll bake the best pecan pie you ever tasted."

Well, that was the beginning of a great new life for Harriet and her children, and for Horace, the cowboy squirrel.

"Just goes to show," I heard the old squirrel say to the young one, "that we all really do need each other."

Right then's when a dadgummed pecan dropped out of that tree and hit me right on the top of the head. And I jumped up like I was shot. And now that I think about it, maybe I had been. 'Cause way up in that tree I could barely see a hole in that big, old pecan tree. And there was a big, old squirrel hunkered down there with a big smile on his face.

Well, lunch time was over and I had to get back to work. But I knew someday I'd return to that big, old pecan tree to see if just maybe I could listen in on another story told by that ornery old squirrel.

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