A Tale of Two Who Could Have Been Friends

The early autumn sun poured a gentle light over the garden. Beneath it, the trees cast long shadows that seemed to dance whenever the season’s cool breeze stirred their branches. Fall had only just begun: the evenings were deliciously crisp, while the days still held the lingering warmth of summer. Food remained plentiful after an unusually rainy season. In most years, the neighbourhood lawns would already be brown, and the first bright leaves of the maples would peek through the city’s green canopy in their endless, familiar contest with the changing season. This year, however, the abundant rain had kept the gardens emerald green, giving the neighbourhood an appearance of life, ease, and innocence.

Nothing could have been further from the reality faced by many residents around the old GE factory. The neighbourhood seemed to have been thriving once, blessed with plentiful food and natural charm. But years of industrial work within the factory’s sprawling compound had taken their toll. Beneath the green lawns and whispering leaves lay a quieter legacy of worry, loss, and uncertainty.

For some, the factory’s closure brought relief: at least the land was no longer being actively contaminated. For others, the silence behind its gates was grim news, a sign of a society in decline, where poverty and despair were spreading through streets that had once promised security.

Fred and Steave had lived in the area since birth and loved it as only those who have known no other home can. They cherished its wide gardens, mature trees, and generous supply of food. Each had built a home there, one on Elm and the other on Maple. Although they lived close to one another, their worlds were different: one was black, the other grey. Their paths crossed mainly during the constant search for food. When they were young, they had chased each other around the Black Walnut tree, driven by instinct and rivalry. As they matured, however, they learned to respect each other’s territory. If friendship existed among their kind, theirs might have grown into one.

That afternoon, Fred and Steave found themselves together near the Black Walnut tree. They had not seen each other all summer, and the familiar sight of the other brought an unexpected warmth. For once, neither rushed away. Instead, they settled on nearby and began an unusually friendly conversation.

- “Hi, Fred. I haven’t seen you since the beginning of summer. How have you been?”

+ “Oh! Hi, Steave. I’m happy to see you. One reason you haven’t seen me is that I was helping Ben and his mate build their new home.”

- “A new home? What do you mean? I thought they had a place on Elm, near yours.”

+ “They did. But the storm, the one at the beginning of summer, or perhaps it was late spring, anyway…the storm destroyed it completely. One moment they had shelter; the next, everything they had built was gone.”

- “And what happened to the home they had here on Black Walnut?”

+ “They left it after they finished the new one on Elm. Then the storm came, and everything went to pieces. By that time, the old home here had already been occupied by a new family with little ones. You know how quickly things change in this neighbourhood.”

- “I do… I do.” Fred responded.

+ “And how are you doing?”

- “Well, since you asked, my summer hasn’t been easy either. Two of the young ones were struck by cars while crossing Albert Street.”

+ “I’m so sorry, Fred,” Steave said softly.

- “It was quick for them at least, you see. What troubles me even more is the contamination from the old GE factory. Since it closed, our young ones keep slipping inside to explore and chase each other. We have watched our numbers fall as never before, and there have been far fewer births in this area. Every season, the neighbourhood feels a little emptier.”

- “We have seen births declining everywhere.”

+ “Oh no, it is nowhere near as bad as it is around the factory. We have never seen a decline like this…not ever, I suppose.” Fred paused, unwilling to remain inside the ache of the subject. “But enough about me. How about you? Are you ready for winter?”

- “I’m doing all right, and I’m more or less ready for winter. I’ve found several places to store food. My only concern is the small pests in the neighbourhood gardens. They cannot reach us high on the trees, but they can get into our hiding places. Fortunately, this has been a good year, and we have stored food in several spots. I only hope I can remember where they all are when spring comes!” He laughed, and for a moment the heaviness between them lifted.

+ “I’m glad to hear you haven’t lost your sense of humour Steave. Well, it was good to see you again. Take care of yourself.”

- “Good to see you too, Fred. Take care…and watch for the cars when you cross the street.”

That was the last time they saw each other, not because either wished it so, but because one was black and the other grey, and squirrels of different colours seldom mixed. Yet Fred and Steave had shared the same trees, the same dangers, and the same fragile neighbourhood. In those rare moments when their lives touched, they had come close to something like friendship. The little red squirrels were another matter entirely: fierce competitors who did not live easily beside the others. But that is a story for another time.

These are the tales of the Saga: “The Squirrels of Albert Street.”