I’d take a lonely twig that’s just lying on the ground and turn it into a stage for a tiny forest play. The wind would be the orchestra, the squirrels the audience, and a friendly fox would play the dramatic narrator—no one gets hurt, only a chorus of giggles echoing through the trees.

Oh, the fox would probably be tongue‑in‑cheek about it, but I’d already have the squirrels scribbling little “acts” in the bark—just enough to keep the drama rolling without a single scratch.