I happened upon this scene, watching from my bedroom window yesterday.
The ground is layered with remains of several recent snowstorms–the most recent showering us with 6"-8" of amazing powder. One needs to know, then, how squirrels manage to navigate that–which is no different than their signature hippity-hop, hippity hop, of course. What is notable is that because of their short stature and long tails, their initial forays following a storm leave a marked trail–of long, punctuated slashes bellied through the snow, the tail dragging behind. It all leaves a quite decoratively marked snowscape.
Mr. Crow found these provocative. He landed with all his customary strut to take a walk along the seemingly open trail set out by young lad Squirrel. He fluffed and strutted, shoulders held upright, head jerking side to side–on watch, you know–his feet going unresistantly pitty-pat, pitty pat. He was marching along a shoulder-high, open tunnel. Cool, he thought. Until he reached the end of the slash-mark he’d happened to land in, when suddenly his breast was brushing through snow powder rising near to his neck. Undeterred, he attempted 3-4 more blasé strides forward. Pfft-pfft, the snow brushed up around him. Then it occurred to him: F–k this sh-t, and as a matter of course the wide black wings spread aside, and up, up he lifted, never to return again!
[Sorry! I had no camera to hand!]