I looked into their window, into their house, their warm house. They had no idea what they had. The giants looked at the box that seemed to contain other worlds. Here in the yard, however, we were scrambling. Chipmunks were running to find their families, squirrels were moving their nuts. A bird fretted about her nest, which housed two young chicks. From the vantage point of the fence, I could see into the giant’s window and on my land. A pair of crickets emerged from the roots, quivering.

It was moving day.

The yellow mark had appeared on our tree just a day before. We had all seen this happen in other communities, other trees. But not here. Not here…

But it was happening. I looked down at the sign I held in anguish. The humans would not notice my protest, nor would they care to. Their eyes stayed glued on the screen while my society collapsed.

Home of the Squirrels was dyed on it with our finest berry juice. Underneath, the animals all wrote their giant given name.

“It is no use,” a robin flew to me, “we are all going to die anyway.” I was going to chime in with my normal, shallow optimism, but it was too much effort for this half empty body. Without the tree, we had no protection from the hawks and raccoons and snakes. We were homeless, defenseless.

I dropped the sign in frustration. I squeaked curses at their window. And then, I left the fence to go gather as many nuts as I could carry.

In the tree, I saw my sister.

“Get up.” I pleaded.

“What’s the use?” She turned on her side and stared at the bark she had grown up in. I took her crying children and left the childless mother in her grave.

And then the exodus started. All of us animals went from bush to bush looking for a home. Without the tree though, chaos never lingered far behind. Soon the birds were eating the worms. I was not surprised how quickly our true natures outed. I knew to stay away from the group. We were in the wild again.

The grass was too high. I only heard the hiss when it had slithered next to me.

It was my old friend, the garden snake, but she was not my friend any longer. We were no longer in the shadow of the tree.

I looked at the sign I had dropped. It was such a pointless sign, for the giants seemed able to ignore every sign that we gave them. They refused to hear the nature right outside their house. I knew that I would be eaten. I was sure that eventually this snake would be swooped up a hawk. I knew this hawk would die and rot, and a tree might grow. I knew this tree would produce acorns for my nephews. And I was beyond sure that the humans would not notice any of this, too busy looking at the box. Perhaps, one day, one of them would find my sign and become aware of my protest. But, more likely than not, I would die and contribute to the cycle of nature.

This was good enough for me.

But how I wished to be able to spend my last moments in the tree, in my home. The humans had taken that as well.

They were just too oblivious