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29 Av 5763 - August 27, 2003 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Benny, the Flying Squirrel
A parable by Rosally Saltsman

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."

 

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