It was a cool night in early September when the best of
summer and the best of fall mingle in a cornucopia of
fragrance and color; when the sun shines warmly on the leaves
just beginning to burst into rainbows of color and the moon
waxes and wanes poetic on gently cooling nights.
It was by the sliver of such a moon that Sam the squirrel
couldn't sleep. This was Sam's busiest time of year, as it
was for all the squirrels, but a sudden burst of energy
towards the end of the day left him too wound up to sleep. He
peered out of his hole in the pine tree to look at the sky
and try to gauge how long he had been tossing and turning
when he spied a light on in the hole beneath him.
"Hmmm," wondered Sam. "What's Benny doing up at this time of
night?"
Sam scurried down the tree to his best friend and neighbor,
Benny, and found him poring over something, with a feather in
his hand dripping ink.
"Evening, Benny," Sam ventured casually. "I saw a light on.
Everything okay?"
"Oh, hi, Sam," Benny answered distractedly. "Yeah,
everything's fine. Thanks."
"Then what are you doing up so late? I couldn't sleep, and I
noticed a light on. Say, what's all that?" asked Sam as he
looked at the papers in front of Benny.
"Hmmm? Oh, an accounting."
"But there's still loads of time before hibernation."
"No, not a nut accounting, a personal accounting." Sam looked
at his friend as if he'd been working too hard and had
finally gone off his nut.
"You see," began Benny, "I have here a list of all my goals
for last year and a list of my goals for this year. I'm
checking which of them I've achieved and which I want to
achieve before next hibernation."
"But why?" Sam asked after a moment of trying to follow.
"Well," said Benny conspiratorily, "a couple of years ago I
was gathering acorns near the university, between the large
sycamore and the willow, and I heard this professor talking
to a student. `So what are your academic goals for this
year?' he asked her. She began telling him a very detailed
list of goals and took out a notebook where they were
written.
"The next day," Benny continued. "I was at that big synagogue
on the corner of Elm Street, near that big elm tree. I sort
of have a standing business arrangement with a boy who comes
there early in the morning. For a month every year, this boy
comes to the synagogue while it's still dark and when he
leaves, he gives me some of his snack that his parents give
him as a reward for waking up so early every morning."
"Go on," urged Sam.
"Well, that morning, I heard one man asking another: `What
are your spiritual goals for this year?'
"Well, putting two and two together, I realized that at the
time of year when we are busiest, humans decide on goals for
the coming year. I figured that since humans put such store
in achievement, maybe I could take a lesson from them. So I
began writing down my goals. See? I heard them saying that it
helps to achieve your goals, if you write them down."
Sam peered at the paper. "What are the ticks and x's for?" he
asked.
"The ticks are what I have achieved and the x's are what
needs to be changed or transferred to this year's list. A
tick beside the number means the goal was partially
achieved." Benny was clearly warming to his subject. "Do you
want to see my list for this year?"
Sam didn't know why but he was afraid to see the list.
"Sure," he said, anyway.
Benny showed him what he had been writing. On the paper was
the title, "Goals for the Coming Year" and underneath was
scrawled:
1. STAY ALIVE
2. GET MORE LEAVES FOR NEST
3. GATHER 40 ACORNS, 30 PEANUTS, 12 PINE CONES BEFORE END OF
SUMMER
4. FIND EASIER-TO-REACH STORAGE PLACE
5. FLY
It was Number 5 that caught Sam's attention.
"I understand Numbers 1 through 4," began Sam, "but Number 5!
You're a squirrel, Benny, not a bird. Squirrels can't
fly."
"Flying squirrels can."
"Yes, but you're not that kind of squirrel. You are a
prefectly nice, average gray North American squirrel who
cannot fly."
"But I can learn. I've already begun practicing."
"Look," said Sam, becoming impatient. "Flying squirrels are
built differently from you or me; they're a different
species, Benny. They don't learn how to fly or practice
flying; they are born instinctively knowing that when they
jump and stretch the flaps of skin on their bodies, they will
glide through the air and appear to fly. Flying squirrels
don't really fly, anyway. Flying fish don't really fly and
even airplanes don't really fly. Birds are the only things
that fly and you, Benny," concluded Sam, "are not a bird."
Sam let out an exasperated sigh as Benny looked at him
pityingly.
The next few days, while the squirrels scampered around the
green gardens of the buildings and the lawns of the houses,
playing and gathering nuts, looking adorable for the children
so that they would toss some food their way, Benny scampered
with them. But towards evening, he would practice flying. He
would climb up a tree trunk and tentatively walk as far as he
could to the edge of a branch and jump to the branch of the
next tree. There was nothing special in that; all squirrels
do that, but Benny stretched his body out as far as he could,
trying to resemble a flying suirrel as he leaped, attempting
each time to further his distance.
Sam looked up worriedly as Benny jumped overhead. "You won't
be able to reach Goal Number One if you keep that up," he
called over his shoulder.
"Look, Sam," Benny chattered excitedly to his friend beneath
him. "I must have cleared three feet that time."
"Why do you even want to fly, anyway?" Sam asked.
"Because," Benny said, pausing for breath, "I want to be the
best squirrel I can be. I want to extend myself to my fullest
potential and reach great heights, both literally and
figuratively."
"But why?" Sam persevered.
But Benny wasn't listening. He was still practicing.
Towards the end of the fall, when the first snows were
getting ready to fall and the air was crisp and the trees
already bare of leaves, all the squirrels were making
themselves comfortable in their holes, bedding down for the
winter. It was just as Benny was falling asleep that he
remembered a store of nuts he had not yet taken up to his
tree. He scampered down the trunk and quickly scurried to his
stash. He was so intent on his work that he didn't notice he
was being watched by a cat who had been particularly annoyed
by the fact that she hadn't caught anything of note in the
last two weeks and here was apparently easy prey.
She bided her time, watching Benny go back and forth. It was
at the penultimate trip to the cache, when Benny was carrying
a particularly cumbersome acorn, that she pounced. She missed
Benny by a hairsbreadth.
The chase was on. She pursued Benny across the lawn, down the
street to an open field, around an elm, beneath a willow and
up a maple tree. Benny, out of running habit from his daily
flying practice, instead of climbing to the top of the tree
where the cat couldn't follow, raced to the end of a low
branch. The cat followed, licking her lips.
She tested her weight on the branch and it held. Benny looked
around and panicked. Then he saw the branch of the next tree.
It was further away than he had ever dared jump. He knew the
cat couldn't make it if she tried, and even if she could, the
branch wouldn't support the weight of her landing.
He looked down at the ground beneath him and shuddered. He
made a quick reckoning. It was his only chance. Benny took a
deep breath, put out his paws, said a silent prayer and
leaped.
Sam had heard the commotion from across the road and went
outside to see, to his horror, Benny trapped in the tree.
Then he saw -- it couldn't be, but it looked for all the
world like Benny gliding through the air from one tree to the
next.
Benny caught a tenuous hold on the branch, lost his grip but
quickly recovered. He was down the tree, across the street
and beside Sam before the cat realized what had happened. She
started meowing pitifully to alert anyone nearby that she was
stuck in the tree and humiliated to boot.
Sam stared at his friend admiringly. "You did it, Benny. You
really did it. You flew!"
"Naaa," answered Benny modestly. "I just jumped real far."
But in spite of his sincere humility, Benny was proud of
himself.
"No," replied Sam, shaking his head. "You did it! You
achieved your goal. And now I understand why you did it, too.
Having goals, even seemingly impossible ones, can come in
handy. Congratulations, Ben."
Benny was truly spent. All he wanted to do was go to sleep.
"Thanks," he beamed. "Have a good winter's sleep," he wished
his friend. "See you next year."
"Yeah," said Sam. "See you next year."
