I was sitting on a bench in the park, just people watching. I remember the people started thinning out as the sun got ready to set. It was during that few moments of golden light before the sun sets. I saw movement in my peripheral and turned to see… a bird. That is what my brain first told me, but then my brain had a short millisecond argument with itself trying to categorize and define what it saw. It was a bird. No, it was a squirrel. No, you saw tiny bare feet and a hand holding a twig or staff or??? It was not a squirrel. It was a tiny man wearing a squirrel pelt. By the time I reached that thought, it was gone. On a similar note, few months later about a mile away on Highland street, I had another strange squirrel encounter. This was definitely a squirrel, I think, but it made me think about the little man. I was headed down Highland toward Barnett Avenue. Park and fire station on my right and a cemetery on my left. I saw a squirrel in the road trying to move something. I slowed to let it get out of the street and watched it grab a dead squirrel, it’s hands holding the dead squirrels hands and it pulled it out of the street and up into the bushes.