Fall brings with it a melancholy. No longer do the students tread lightly, but rather, with hands tightly holding on to the straps of their backpacks, weary of impending desolation. For soon the snows will fall, covering campus with uneven lumps of white. We will watch the squirrels journeying through the snow, searching for forgotten treasures that they will never find.
It is tempting, at times like this, to take our own stashes of almost-expired nuts, to drop a trail of them through the woods, and watch the squirrels follow the nuts, cramming them into their overstuffed cheeks, never once looking up to question the source of the gifts bestowed upon them. However, as is said, “feed a squirrel for a day, and it will eat trash for a lifetime.” For life does not rain down nuts on the snow, and if we feed squirrels, we will inevitably ask, “Who will feed us?”