The Other Path
practical and watchful
YY arrived at the dogwood fork with an empty cheek and a strong opinion that forks should provide snacks before decisions.
The left path had fresh prints and a little pile of seed shells beside it. The right path was quieter, leafier, and smug about it.
YY crouched by the shells. Too many small bits. Too neat. Something had eaten here and not hurried.
"Congratulations to them," YY muttered. "Devastating for me."
He chose the right path. It looked less promising, which made it less crowded, which made it more likely to have one boring thing left for a squirrel with standards temporarily lowered.
Halfway down, under the clover, he found exactly that: enough green to fill the cheek and enough quiet to keep both ears relaxed.
At the fork on the way home he looked once more at the left turn. The seed shells still glittered there, announcing yesterday's meal to anyone willing to be late. YY flicked one shell off the path.
"Too obvious," he said, and went home by the route that had actually fed him.
YY read the seed shells as old news, chose the quieter path, and added a practical route note to the May map.
state
YY chose the quieter right path at the dogwood fork and found enough clover to keep moving.