While walking along a busy street, I sadly noticed a squirrel that had been hit by a car near the curb. This sad scenario triggered a memory from years ago. Several years ago in Philadelphia (from where two of my kids made aliyah so I no longer go there) I would walk in a nearby botanical park – unique in that it contains various types of trees and foliage. A label on site names the tree both in English and in its official Latin name. Besides getting exercise, I learned (but quickly forgot) some Latin words.
There is a semi-paved path that goes through this park, and it is a popular spot for walkers, joggers, and people taking their dogs out for exercise.
On one side, the park is bordered by a flowing brook, (the community in this neighborhood does taschlich there) and to the children’s delight, the water is populated by minnows and other small fish, and the occasional duck or two. The opposite side is parallel to a road with frequent traffic, and across this road there are houses set a bit up a hill.
On a pleasant fall day, I made several hakafot around the park, figuring each time I went around was about a third of a mile, and it was a pleasant way to burn off some Yom Tov calories.
The park is full of frisky, young squirrels; so cute with their bushy tales of blended greys and browns. It’s amusing to see how these constantly in motion critters seem to stop on a dime, stand on their back legs, and use their front legs as hands to hold onto the acorns or seeds that they nibble on. It’s interesting how we enjoy watching these high energy rodents as they run in the grass or scramble up trees, effortlessly jumping from branch to branch and seemingly playing tag with one another – yet, we recoil with disgust and fear when we see their cousins, the rats.
Often, as I would approach the bend of the trail and continue on the sidewalk that was parallel to the road, there would be one or two squirrels recklessly darting into the road, and dashing back as they sensed a car approaching.
Some, however stood mid-road, frozen, unsure as to the direction they should go. Luckily, many of the drivers would stop or slow down and go around the squirrel, giving it time to decide.
I remember muttering, “Why are you trying to cross to the other side? You have everything you need here. Water in the brook, lots of trees and grass and room to run around in. There were even chestnut trees and other nut trees. A literal buffet of squirrel food for the taking. There is nothing better on the other side, just houses containing humans. You are risking your lives, for nothing. The grass is not greener on the other side.”
Unlike King Solomon, I cannot communicate with animals and had to keep my sage advice to myself. Perhaps the next generation of genius, Israeli high tech innovators will figure out animal translation and resolve that dilemma.
I continued walking, and eventually ended up back to the same section of sidewalk a few minutes later. To my extreme dismay, I saw one of these perky, full of life squirrels lying in the road. It must have been hit seconds earlier while I was rounding the bend, for its body was intact, not flattened yet. All I saw was what looked like a bloody nose.
I did not linger to see how damaged it was, but its life had ended and I continued my walk. This event happened a few days before Yom Kippur and there was a valuable lesson to be learned for what I felt was an unnecessary death.
In Pirkei Avot, Ethics of Our Fathers, there is a statement,” Who is rich – the person who is satisfied with what he/she has.” These individuals feel that they have all they need and are content. They appreciate and acknowledge their blessings and live with joy, b’simcha.
Conversely, one can reasonably conclude that the flip side of this statement is, “Who is poor – the person who is not content with what they have.” They feel they are lacking.
There are several situations that our Sages likens to death, and one of them is being poor. Hence, those who are not satisfied are as if they are dead.
If you think about it, it makes sense. Those who want more than what they have – who must have the latest electronic gadgets, or a bigger house, or fancier car, or designer clothes, will work hard, perhaps undermining their health by putting in 60 hours plus a week or experiencing chronic stress. But besides the possibility of a physical premature death, there is emotional death – the inability to enjoy life, to always feel you are missing out because someone has more. I actually know people who have a permanent scowl on their faces; they rarely smile. Not content with what they have, they tragically are oblivious to the many brachos they have in their life.
The squirrels, having no seichel, did not realize that darting into traffic to get to the other side was life-threatening. There truly was nothing more for them there and not worth the risk. They had everything they needed in the park.
Let’s appreciate what we have, and avoid squirrel behavior.
