M is for Mischief

As we were walking along the trail, a stone came down on my head. “Ow!”

You turned to look at me as I was picking up the small pebble. “Where did that come from?”

We heard some scurrying above our heads and looked up to see a small rodent disappearing from view on the hill above the trail.

“I think he threw that down on me.”

You laughed. “I don’t think so. It probably just fell as he was moving.”

At the next turn, we saw him there again. “Is that a marmot?”

Nodding, “I think so. And I think he’s following us.”

You shook your head. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

But as we reached the corner, another small pebble came from above. And again, he scurried away. “See?”

This continued for about another 15 minutes. As we came to a low area where there were no more hills for him to hide, we saw him standing up on his hind legs to watch. It was almost like he was sad to see us go.

“Maybe we’ll see you on the way back,” I called. He took one last look and waddled away as we continued on.

This actually did happen to my dad and me when we were on a hike in Colorado when I was about 11. He followed us for quite a while, tossing pieces of bark and small stones down in front of us.