What shall we hoard?

Hal Borland, my favorite nature writer, author of many books and former columnist for the New York Times, describes so well the hoarding instincts that touch all life at this season. One can just mentally see his squirrels digging little pantry holes in the ground to drop in an acorn, even patting the ground around as if putting on a lid or a sealer. Perhaps his footprint is meant to be a label, "Property of Squirrel No. 6."

Borland's diminutive chipmunks poke acorns or any other edible and storageable food in little cavities in old fence posts, fallen logs, rock formations, etc. And the woodchuck, wise creative, stores his winter food under his skin while he sleeps.

Cheer up you gals who think you have too many layers of fat. Your body is only working in your behalf, should you not be able to feed it on a daily basis.

Even the woolly bear you may see these days, slowly making his way to some destination, is hoarding. Such hoarding is of a different kind. He is hoarding a diminishing spark of life until he can reach some suitable place where he can keep hoarding this precious spark until he emerges next spring to start the life cycle all over again.

Ah, the minutae of the Creator!

I watch my squirrels (When they are in my yard I call them mine. When they cross the line I call them Bob and Doris's squirrels.) hoarding the fallen acorns from the big sawtoothed oak. There's an oak tree across the line too, but the acorns are smaller. I'm happy if the little jerky, furry creatures feel free to gather and hoard wherever they may.

I haven't seen a chipmunk since the nearby wooded area became Arena Park. Chipmunks like the unvisited domain. Even the bees are still hoarding, gathering whatever slim nectar they can find to store in their hives. I was about to have some tall goldenrod, drooping over the back walk, cut down when I saw some bees still working their way across the yellow blossoms.

Farmers have their haylofts, silage tanks and corn cribs filled. I'm not sure if the corn is still stored in cribs.

And, of course, the housewife has her pantry shelves filled with a vast array of canned vegetables and soups. Tired of searching for canned goods in the kitchen cabinets, I have removed that problem. I have two long open shelves above my kitchen stove which are now arrayed with colorful cans I can easily identify and reach.

One can easily see the process of hoarding going on in the trees. They are withdrawing sap that has been flowing upward all spring and summer in the trunks and limbs. Now it is safely down in the roots, awaiting next spring when they do their thing all over again.

In addition to hoarding things for the winter days, what else can man be hoarding? Love, good will, compassion and all the other verities of the heart as Faulkner put it? These must be kept fresh flowing every minute in order to find "Joy Along the Way."

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.