Pops: Oh, look. A squirrel. Pops: I admire you, Mr. Squirrel. You're in perfect harmony with nature. I am also one with nature. In fact, I wrote a poem about being one with nature. Ahem. (Places a blade of grass over his eyes) A brow of grass, (Places moss on head) and hair of moss. Puddles are my dipping sauce. (Runs across the creek) A petal, a wing, an arm or two, presenting a hug from me to you! (Prepares to hug the bush, but gets prickled by a thorn) Oh! (Bees stings him) Oooh! (Wind picks up and a branch hits him. He runs away from the bush while holding his head. He falls into the creek, where snapping turtles start biting him.) Oh why, nature? WHYYYYYYYYY?!!