Sun Mote Copse rancho mirage

He and @Otter were nine weeks old and sprouting like weeds, as the saying went. Instead of moving the bairns to a rendezvous site, Meerkat and @Njord simply broadened their range around The Taigh. Most recently, he’d learned about Seal’s Nook, a little east of his family’s homestead.

He could hear Grandma Towhee’s familiar tread nearby, though Skipjack said nothing to her as he trundled around the aspen grove. He moved at a sedate pace, mapping routes between trees, which meant occasionally bumping into one. Skip’s nose was a little raw, though he continued unfazed until he had a good sense for the area.

Among all the spindly aspens with their smooth bark, there was a much larger tree with a far rougher texture. As the little boy nosed his way around it, he discovered a narrow opening in the trunk. When he pushed his head into it, he was greeted with the smell of damp rot. He sensed a small space, verified with a quiet boof.

Skip carefully backpedaled, pondered a moment, then decided to squeeze fully into the small opening. The hollow inside the tree was cozy but more spacious than he thought. He skimmed a shoulder along the wall, circling until he got a feel for the place. He then nosed back toward the entrance, wondering if Towhee was still out there keeping an eye on him.