I’m reading a book occupying a deck chair by the muddy hotel pool, all alone, thinking about wild animals. We have been told leopards can be seen in the area, and even black panthers. Monkeys of course. We haven’t seen anything yet, not even a monkey.
Suddenly a little furry fellow appears on top of the opposite wall. It’s in a hurry and runs quickly. It’s an Indian palm squirrel and he lives with his wife in a palm in the neighbour’s garden. It’s right outside our balcony and we see him a couple of times, especially in mornings and afternoons when they’re both out looking for something to eat.