Dundee never fails to surprise me.
Some days, it can feel like the city never changes.
Reliable fixtures like Fast Eddie fastened to the Overgate steps, fading graffitied daisies on west end walls, and the slow-moving silvery Tay can make it seem like after eight years, I’ve seen all there is to see.
And I’ll worry now and then that Dundee’s all out of tricks.
Of course, every time I think this, the place proves me wrong.
This week, I decided to start my mornings with what we in the business of being mental call ‘a stupid little walk for my stupid mental health’.
As the darker days are drawing in, I know I’ll start getting blue soon, so I’ve been making a concerted effort to catch some morning sunlight to stave off the SAD.
Mostly this has meant tramping up to Balgay before starting my day.
There, the same old wonders wait for me as well – the beautiful blue bridge and gazebo, a thousands of lives scrawled on stone in the cemetery, the huge eye of the observatory staring up at the stars.
It’s all a feast for the eyes, but my eyes were getting full up – until I spied something the other day that I’d never ever seen before.
‘He couldn’t have been bigger than a posh teacup’
As I rounded one of the many twisting cemetery paths, I saw him crouched under a dying rhododendron, tufty wee ears turned to hear me coming.
A tiny, breathtakingly bright baby red squirrel.
I literally stopped in my tracks. I didn’t dare breathe, much less move enough to snap a photo.
I couldn’t believe my eyes; I’ve never seen a red squirrel in real life, never mind in the middle of an urban landscape.
It sounds daft, but I can’t believe how red it was, like a match flame with legs.
The wee guy – he really couldn’t have been bigger than a posh teacup – froze too, looking up at me in horror as he assessed whether or not I was a danger.
And after a momentary pause, he leapt into action and scampered back into the undergrowth.
It was pretty flippin’ magical. And also hard to explain.
Red squirrels are rare thanks to invasive greys
As far as I can tell, there’s no documented red squirrel population in Balgay Park, though there is one on the outskirts of Dundee.
That makes sense to me, considering the number of grey squirrels I’ve watched bounding across the paths and up the trees at Balgay on my walks.
Adorable as they are, grey squirrels are an invasive species who carry a disease which kills the native reds.
That’s why they’ve been culled in areas north of Montrose.
In Balgay, greys run the show, so I would never expect to see a lone baby red. It’s a puzzle how he got there in the first place, and how he’s survived this long.
But I’m rooting for him.
Every time I’ve been back, I’ve looked for him. And although I haven’t seen him again, I like to think he’ll make it, by some miracle of Dundee magic.
If nothing else, he’s reminded me that even when you feel like the city’s rat race makes life feel like Groundhog Day, there’s always the chance you’ll come across some rarer rodent.
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