Grey and Red, A Squirrel Journal

'Tis the season to be ... appreciative

2012-01-20T12:36:00.007-05:00

And so, among the squirrel-loving community, the December festivities are behind us and our own holiday season has finally arrived. It is a week or so of glory unto the highest - in this case, the highest branch:

Saturday, Jan. 21, Squirrel Appreciation Day, through Thursday, Feb. 2, Groundhog Day marks a time for rituals of deep winter napping, acorn-gathering, ceaseless chattering and, more often than not, going out on a limb. For the squirrels, at least, if not for us.

Even for the most orthodox and observant arboreal citizens who partake in this season, these rituals offer no opportunity for introspection or reflection: Rodents aren't known for their talents at self-assessment. When you're at the bottom of the food chain, it hardly seems an asset.

Neither is this a time for them to exchange gifts or indulge in acts of charitable giving: In their cache-as-cache-can world, squirrels have a notorious aversion to poverty, particularly their own. They covet one another's nuts. (Holiday season or not, when was the last time you saw a soup kitchen in an oak tree?)

And frankly, this is not even a season sweetened by melodies and caroling. Squirrels burst the winter silence with their pointed cacophany, their ill-mannered, loud and often dissonant chatter.

Squirrel Appreciation Day? It's all the same to them.

Ah but how do we humans - more inclined toward gratitude and related emotions - mark the season? We do our observing by serving. We deck the halls (and every place else) with bags of nuts. Cobs of corn. Chunks of bread.

And we dress in the festive colors of the holidays. Basic gray or perhaps even red for certain parts of the country. Or for those in the luckier regions to have even more variants of the species, a rare white or completely black outfit.

Somewhere after the reindeer of Christmas have departed and the bunny of Easter has yet to arrive, we encounter the simple squirrel of Appreciation Day.

This tiny bushy-tailed ornament makes every tree a holiday tree.

It takes so little to appreciate them.
Speak softly and carry a big nut.

And go forth, appreciatively.

Portrait of the artist as a Young Squirrel

2012-01-04T11:16:00.005-05:00

Add this to the list of notable movements in fine art: Cubism, Expressionism, Impressionism, Surrealism and now, Nuttism.

Nuttism comes to us courtesy of Winkelhimer Smith, a rescued eastern grey who believes that wielding a squirrel-hair paintbrush is hardly an artist's sure-fire route to the School of the Masters.

Rather, you need to engage the whole squirrel.

As we see in this video, Winkelhimer has matters clearly in paw.

Given the artist's diminutive size, one could argue the style more closely mimics Minimalism. And given the artist's unlikely talent, one might even press for inclusion in Surrealism. But Winkelhimer bears not even a hint of the signature Salvador Dali moustache and, of course, the facially hirsute Dali was never known for a matching, flamboyantly bushy anterior end.

Clearly, sciurus carolinensis could argue with success that this is Romanticism, plain and simple. There is something about his style, and the tilt of his talented paw, that touches the heart.

The bigger question, however, may well be this: What is Winkelhimer's next masterpiece to be? "Still Life With Walnut?" "Nude Descending a Maple?"

We can only expect great things.

Teaching Samoa a few tricks

2011-12-30T21:22:00.004-05:00

The Pacific island nation of Samoa made New Year's Eve news this week through its elimination of Friday from the calendar - this week alone - and taking a headlong, well-publicized jump directly into Saturday. The Samoans have remade the days of the week this week largely for economic reasons: They want to align their schedules more readily with their present and future trade partners.

If this seems revolutionary, imaginative, creative and outlandish, well, think again: Squirrels have been doing this sort of thing for centuries, ever since humans and squirrels collided along the woodland path.

Squirrels long ago decided there would be no need for any Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday or even Sunday. No Sabbath, no holy day of rest. (Squirrels don't rest much anyway). No special holidays, three-day weekends, even any annual White Sales (squirrels don't need bed linens), Fourth of July specials or even Labor Day weekends (squirrels don't join unions).

To squirrels, every day is simply Nut Day. So this is how the squirrel calendar looks:

Nut Day
Nut Day
Nut Day
Nut Day
Nut Day
Nut Day
Nut Day

Easy, no? With the hopes of aligning themselves more readily with the trade partners who freely toss them nuts, squirrels are out there every day of the week - which is always the same day of the week - ready to receive whatever type of kernel their trade partners may be exporting in their direction.

They don't need watches. They don't need calendars. They don't need anything except the ticking clock inside them that sounds the alarm, with each sunrise, "T.G.I.N. - Thank God It's Nut Day!"

Take that, Samoa. You think you're so clever. But you can't outsmart the squirrels. They'll always be one day ahead of you.

Springtime in December

2011-12-26T22:00:00.006-05:00

The Christmas carols have faded and the nursery rhymes are about to begin.
Listen carefully: You can already hear the sounds of Baby Squirrel Season 2012. Mass production is already under way.

The squirrels out there - the ones chasing each other - are not engaged in the squirrel version of any post-Christmas reindeer games. And they're not training for the winter Olympics. Here in the northeast, the annual mating game has begun and it is no meaningless frolic. The parts these squirrels are moving across the gameboard aren't exactly gamepieces. These are squirrel "private parts," and this is the serious business of rodent reproduction.

Heaven help us: All I wanted for Christmas this year was a kinder, gentler form of Squirrel Birth Control.

Is it too much to ask someone to fly a helicopter over the world's forests and, just for one season and one season alone, drop thousands of itty bitty chastity belts into the woods?

Would it be too impossible to borrow some of those old Army training films that were shown to soldiers to turn them off to promiscuity and line up the squirrels for a viewing?

Can some clever wildlife biologist please devise an "on-off switch" for squirrel hormones, just to give rehabilitators a break?

I'm not saying forever here but for just one season? It would be like winning the Lottery for many of us.

But Mother Nature supposedly knows better. And there's no force stronger than that, except perhaps the birds, the bees and - sorry to say - the squirrels.

Spring is coming sooner than you think. And this year's Class of 2012, just like last year's graduates and the ones before, all failed sex education.

Brace yourself.

When trees become slackers

2011-12-04T13:02:00.009-05:00

It's worrisome enough to make even the most mellow squirrel-loving human turn a deep shade of eastern grey: This is supposedly a "bust" year for acorns, following the acorn "boom" of 2010.

That's not good. Why should humans be indulging their dollars and senses in the untethered consumerism of the holidays - reveling first in the retail orgy of Black Friday - when squirrels can barely shop for the basics to fill their winter pantry? If the scientists are correct, this will be a winter of wanting.

It doesn't seem fair.

Yet a recent New York Times article claims the dearth of these seminal trees-to-be is most evident in places such as Central Park, and will have a ripple effect affecting both predator and prey. Humans are not left out of this ill-fated equation.

As squirrels go, so goes the nation.

Blame the trees which, apparently, are not doing their part. Acorn production, according to one forest ecologist, is well below the average 25 to 30 pounds a year per tree, for oaks alone.

Is this a workplace stoppage? Are the trees going on strike? Or perhaps, like so many American production facilities, perhaps even trees have begun to outsource their output to overseas facilities where tree labor is cheaper (and not even unionized)? Perhaps even underage trees are being forced to produce acorns before they are even mature enough to handle it?

It's easy to see, from the squirrels' point of view, where this can all lead back home in the U.S.: No nut-cache to be had means a future rife with hunger and with few available jobs because there is nothing to bury. Fewer acorns to sprout and grow means, ultimately, fewer trees to house squirrels of future generations.

Hunger, unemployment and homelessness - sound familiar?

The Federal Acorn Reserve Bank doesn't seem to want to kick in its share - adjusting the interest rate on acorns or maybe giving squirrels easier access to acorn credit - but then, would squirrels even accept government handouts at this point? I think not.

There has to be a solution.
This would ordinarily be a tough nut to crack but, unfortunately, there are none of them to be found.

Giving no thanks for all they can eat

2011-11-24T15:40:00.009-05:00

They are guests at my Thanksgiving table, and they are too numerous to count. How fortunate they haven't demanded use of the good china, which maxes out at 12 placesettings.

They feast on a stuffing of pecans, walnuts, almonds, berries, corn kernels and the occasional acorn. There is no turkey on this menu - they would not want it anyway. They need no gravyboats or soup spoons. They need no neatly folded napkins.

They simply gather together, each and every one jostling, reaching, munching and squabbling, just like any other ravenous family whose uneasy reunion is spurred by a desire to gorge. In fact, the familial resemblance between them is startling. Gray, after all, is an easy middle ground that even the not-so-style conscious can embrace. Still, it is hard to discern the mothers and fathers from their own offspring. A big appetite is obviously an inherited trait, a dominant gene, and they have passed it on through the generations.

To get to this feast, they had only to battle the holiday traffic out of the tree limbs and the tree trunks. Repeatedly. And by nightfall, they will be bloated with the day's digestion and their own self-importance. Today, after all, was all about them. Wasn't it?

No, they will not say grace before this meal. They never do.
Nor will they give thanks afterward. They never have.
And if supplies run short, they will merely chatter their teeth, stamp their feet and perhaps the boldest among them will take a catapult leap at the screen door. This Thanksgiving buffet is, after all, an outdoor table.

Ah, but the leftovers: An untouched acorn, buried for another day and then forgotten, adds to the forest. A bypassed walnut, packed deep into the earth, begets a tree. Perhaps then, for desssert, we need to serve a slice of gratitude of our own instead.

Let us give thanks, even if the squirrels - boisterous, bad-mannered and bawdy as they are - do not.

May our hearts and our doors always be open to them.

Crime and punishment

2011-11-20T22:13:00.007-05:00

Your Honor, she is not a criminal. Annick Richardson may be many things, but the Ohio woman is not a criminal. The London Daily Mail, which has been following her case, describes her in its headline as a "Compulsive Squirrel Feeder." The somewhat less imaginative press here in the United States, simply refers to her as "nuts," careful to adorn the adjective with quotes, lest the media themselves end up in court themselves on defamation charges.

And now, the Ohio animal-lover has had her day in Kettering Municipal Court, facing as much as 60 days in jail and considerable fines, for blanketing her suburban Ohio neighbohood with peanuts, squirrel feeding stations and dishes of water. The neighbors claim that her Johnny Appleseed-like actions (Joanie Squirrelseed, perhaps?) have spurred a sudden and rapid increase in the local squirrel population.

Please, folks: Richardson is merely feeding the squirrels, not copulating with them.

Besides, peanuts are not fertility drugs - we would have a less truncated elephant population if that were so. Peanuts are simple legumes. (Frankly, if Richardson should be faulted for anything, it is for not feeding a more natural food such as walnuts or pecans, since legumes are not nuts and, as such, are not "real" squirrel food. But that is beside the point. Or perhaps she is also guilty of spreading America's obesity crisis to its native rodents by super-sizing them.)

Her Ohio neighbors are weary of finding spent shells - the kind fired by double-barreled squirrels - and tired of the lawns being dug up (which, by the way, many suburbanites pay a hefty fee to have done by professional landscapers each spring. But again, that is beside the point here too.)

A confident Richardson has assured the press she is not a villain nor is she a monster. A pre-trial hearing has been set for December to pursue her case yet further.

Ah, but perhaps we squirrel-lovers shall all ultimately be jailed for our presumed sin. We have gotten the local squirrels hooked on the Nut Drug, then made regular drug drops in our neighborhoods to keep the addicts in line.

Your Honor, if she is guilty then we all are too. Shackle us all and lead us away. But provided our county jails still allow visitors, as most surely do, we should not despair:

Even in the toughest holding cell, the space between the bars is wide enough to permit entry by the very small. And I suspect that one swift, fur-bearing, bushy-tailed visitor will not forsake us in our incarcerated state.

In one paw, no doubt, will be carrying a small gift for us, the wrongly imprisoned: Neatly sandwiched between two shelled pecans, a jailer's key.

Squirrels occupy New York too

2011-11-16T23:34:00.009-05:00

Occupy.
New.
York.

Suddenly, everyone’s preoccupied with the "Occupy" movement. The whole world (or at least 99 percent of it) seems to want a piece of the Occu-Pie.

Which brings us to the squirrels. It always comes down to the squirrels. (Or perhaps it comes up to the squirrels, depending upon how high their tree may be.)

Squirrels Occupy New York. (That makes their piece of the Occu-Pie the pecan pie, presumably.) Though many other U.S. cities presently have gatherings similar to the protests near Wall Street, only New York has this special collective of Professional Gatherers.

Theirs is not a protest, however. And it’s not even anything new. Squirrels have always been a part of the city – accosting visitors in the sprawl of Central Park or maybe trailing any other well-meaning, nut-bearing humans in places as small as the city’s numerous vestpocket parks.

Squirrels, it seems, have almost always Occupied New York in a more concrete (or bronze) fashion as well: Their likenesses are carved into the facades of buildings and you can find their distinctive forms immortalized in bronze statuary in green spaces.

Across the city, architects and artists seem to love them too.

And now there is a catalogue of this occupation: A most wonderful blog, "Ephemeral New York," celebrates the metropolitan bond with bushytails in its Nov. 17, 2011 post about these ubiquitous likenesses. Best of all, there are photos. Artists’ interpretations of squirrels adorn bank buildings and flank apartment buildings, accompanying the post, called “The squirrels that decorate New York buildings.”

Rest assured, these figurines are more than merely décor. They are New York acorn icons.

Ah, there is much here to dig through – an action our tiny heroes would clearly endorse engaging in. And there is perhaps even more to be found, yet to be unearthed.

Worry not: the squirrels will get around to it, even if we don't. Right now, however, it’s autumn and they’re a bit preoccupied here in New York.

Polar opposites and unbearable truths

2011-11-11T18:32:00.014-05:00

In Canada, a political battle is on for hearts, minds and a nation's new emblem, and the faction favoring the longstanding beaver is under siege from the faction favoring the formidable polar bear.

As our beloved blogger colleague, the aptly named Lone Grey Squirrel, has suggested: forget the beaver, forget the polar bear. What about the squirrel? As a Canadian with a strong interest in the outcome of this sparring of national symbols, Mr. Squirrel indeed raises an important nut worth cracking. (You can even vote on the critter of your choice, by the way, by clicking on the link to his blog, provided here.)

One Canadian politician recently lauded the polar bear as worthy because of its "strength, courage, resourcefulness and dignity," and trounced beavers as "dentally defective rats." Putting aside such blatant animal defamation (and idle fantasies of casting the senator out into Canada's woods in the heart of winter), let us step away from this hairy debate and instead consider the simple merits of the squirrel.

In an environment of global economic crisis, the squirrel is resourceful to the point of hoarding. The squirrel's motto: "Cache as cache can" could become the lyrics of a new global anthem in this money-strapped world of ours.

At a time when charitable giving and worldwide cooperation is stressed for our communal survival, who is better equipped to go out on a limb for us all than the squirrel?

And finally, in an era full of negative thinking, the squirrel remains ever bright-eyed and ... well, you know.

We are not here to defame his distant cousin, the beaver. (Nor are we here to "dam" him.) Likewise, we will not engage in polemics over his polar challenger.

The squirrel is the simple answer for a new national symbol in Canada. Just lift another national symbol - the Maple Leaf - and look beneath.

There, neatly nested in the intertwined foliage, you shall find him. Loyal patriot, he's simply waiting for the call to duty.

No Squnemployment Rate

2011-11-09T23:29:00.005-05:00

Squirrels have got the economy beat. They don't lose sleep over the news that there's a 9 percent jobless rate. When it comes to the industry of being industrious, squirrels are nature's own CEOs.

In fact, the U.S. Department of Labor may be baffled to learn that there is practically a Zero percent squnemployment rate. Not one squirrel in this country is presently collecting benefits.

Instead, you can find in them in commercials (Recall the dancing squirrel in the Radio Shack "Squirrel Sunglasses" commercial earlier this year?) Or in ad campaigns, including point-of-purchase posters (Monroe Shocks & Struts has made a career out of having several eastern gray spokesrodents give glowing endorsements to their auto parts). And let us not forget the "Rally Squirrel" whose impromptu antics on the diamond turned this year's baseball World Series into a cause for cheering (even among those among us who are non-sports fans).

And in a few short weeks, Alvin & the Chipmunks - possibly the only tiny ground squirrels of their species who come out of hibernation at Christmas - will be busy serenading yet another generation with their holiday tunes. When it comes to seasonal popularity, they almost out-Santa the big guy.

And let's not forget all those anonymous squirrels working hard these last few weeks, burying acorns - saving for the winter, and for future generations.

So next time one crosses your path - whether you're driving, riding your bicycle, or just taking a stroll - be nice. In fact, offer a handful of nuts, a smile and some kind words.

If the economy continues the way it's been going, you might just be looking at your next boss.

Leap of faith

2011-10-17T23:45:00.003-04:00

Just a day ago, they seemed so big: Two healthy juvenile male squirrels, long since weaned, cracking nuts, flexing their muscles with every leap in the pre-release cage. They looked like they could conquer anything in their path.

And then, this morning, they seemed so small: Released into the woods, they were dwarfed by the trees. As they climbed higher toward the sun, they grew smaller still. So many weeks earlier, they’d fit in the palm of my hand or on my lap. I called them “babies.” But now they are free and, in this big world, they seem almost no match for it all.

Not knowing this - or perhaps not even caring - they bounded forth, embraced the massive tree trunks, dug with gusto into the fresh earth, kicking up the fallen leaves. Their brains and limbs were already occupied with visions of acorns and nest-building, functions buried deeper in their genes with a skill even greater than their own legendary ability to cache.

There is always a leap of faith when you open the hatch and say goodbye, and it is never easy to be the one left behind.

And so, for them all, I must allow them the privilege of that leap - and take it with them, even as my feet stay firmly on the ground.

May they always leap with grace. And I pray for soft, happy landings. Always and forever.

The mystery of the woods

2011-08-11T13:51:00.011-04:00

Three squirrels, ready for release:
No one knows where they will go in the next few hours. We lift the door and set them free. It is as light and easy as exhaling. And at the same time, as heavy as a sigh.
"Well, it's about time," they think (or perhaps not). And then, as if pages from the narrative of their existence had never been torn out, they will move along with grace to the next chapter.
The word "release" is not in their vocabulary but surely some syllables or sounds exist in an elemental lexicon to express what they feel as the earth takes its rightful place beneath their feet, as their bones celebrate the newness of it all.
Not more than a mile or two away from this vast, wooded release site where this trio breathes in new life, a small litter proved to be no match for the objective harshness of the world. A rescue call came in the night before: Newborns, some with their umbilical cords still attached, had been placed on the ground by well-meaning rescuers - for a hoped-for reunion with the mother, which never happened - and a combination of dehydation, lack of warmth, and a small swarm of ants, had overtaken them all.
The rescuer's voice on the phone was frantic as she hurried them to the animal hospital. The animal hospital sent back a message saying their prospects weren't good.
Perhaps these babies are all dead by now.
Perhaps there was no way to save them.
And perhaps the only certainty here is that we will never know what could have happened and if they even had a future.
As for the three babies from Springtime 2011, who have now grown and are living beyond the sheltered realm of human care and captivity, the same can be said: After today, the only certainty is that they are out there. Hurricane season will blow through, and winter will hold us all in lockdown, and then the January breeding that heralds the baby season will begin again.
Will they survive until then? They have come this far and yet these woods hold so much more mystery than we can ever know. The only certainty now is the undeniable uncertainty of their fates.
But as they wait for the hatch to open, they do not look the least bit worried. Already they are looking beyond.
I cannot see what they will do after this day, but I do believe in it, nonetheless.
And so, I will be content and have faith in that.

"Take Your Squirrel to Work Day?"

2011-08-08T14:16:00.012-04:00

All of a sudden, it seems like "Take Your Squirrel to Work Day" has been declared in Miller County, Arkansas: Two squirrels have set up shop on the windowsill of a county building to use as their daytime hangout, and they're even putting in some overtime at the office.

Dubbed "Millie" and "Miller" by their human workplace counterparts, they have even proven themselves to be exemplary county employees: They take their breaks regularly at the office water cooler (in this case, a big water dish set out on the sill to quench the thirsty pair). They are often spied with their eyes casting a longing glance or two, gazing in the window (well, they're already outdoors, so gazing out seems pointless). And, as often as they can - whether the big boss is watching or not - they put up all four feet and snooze.

One of the county staffers working inside the office even goes through the pantomime of giving them belly rubs - with the pane of window glass safely between her fingertips and their little bodies.

Millie and Miller have claimed the county building as their branchless branch office, and they're got everyone charmed. They recently shared their work ethic with all the world in this CBS News Video.

Their workplace tenacity could, however, portend a bit of a labor skirmish: The squirrels seem to savor the attention - not to mention the strategic locale - and often stay perched up there well past the traditional quitting time of the folks inside. One worker, Julie Huntley, told CBS News that these little gray civil servants still remain on duty even after it's time for the humans to lock up their desks and head home. Not that she's complaining, of course. Squirrels were never known to be clock-watchers, anyway.

But wait 'til the department chief sees all those overtime slips - ones marked with curious scratchings on the bottom, where there's space for an employee's signature. And wait'll someone smells these same overtime slips, redolent with hazelnut and walnut.

Union and management might just end up in the middle of a wage grievance that could possibly lead to arbitration. Or maybe just an arboretum.

Taking leave of their Census?

2011-07-31T00:21:00.009-04:00

Sure, squirrels count.
But people counting squirrels might very well add up to something even more valuable.

In the Chicago area, an initiative known as Project Squirrel has harnessed the astute observations of several hundred volunteer observers to monitor and record the activities of these locals at various places throughout the city's grid.

No, this isn't a case of sane researchers gone nuts: The Chicago Academy of Sciences has taken this project seriously since its inception in 1997. There is a lot to be learned, after all, about a region's changing ecology from the way its citizens of nature live and the patterns of their days.

This is not a Census in the true sense of the word: No notebook-bearing stranger comes knocking on tree trunks interrupting the squirrels' day to ask how many adults and youngsters are legally living in those branches. No one with a clipboard is taking notes about their annual income in acorns or asking about their ethnic origins - whether their native language is Squirrelspeak or some other Rodentian dialect.

In fact, federal funding for tree-improvement projects or drawing new district lines for Rodent lawmakers' turf doesn't even hang in the balance here. It's all in the name of science, not politics, with findings recorded on a survey form.

Putting squirrel-watchers to work is a good thing. It's not hard, after all, to toss a few nuts with one hand and take a few notes with the other.

Feeding squirrels, after all, is a pretty noble enterprise. But what they can feed us, in exchange, might prove to be so much better.

A window on their Independence

2011-06-30T23:01:00.005-04:00

Free video streaming by Ustream

I could watch these juvenile squirrels forever. And how I wish I really could.
But juvenile squirrels, like infant squirrels, don’t respect the march of time. And why should they?
They deserve to grow up, be something more than cute critters in a cage that we watch for our delight and amusement.

Of course, if you click on this link and survive the one-minute commercial that leads to this fabulously candid webcam, you’re treated to a window on reality that Alan Funt’s old televised 1960s “Candid Camera” could never have envisioned: Young squirrels climbing, running on an exercise wheel, stealing food from one another’s mouths. Young squirrels grooming other young squirrels, completely oblivious to the fact that by the grace of human benefactors’ intervention, they are orphaned but nonetheless alive today.

(If you are unable to see the image and the link, clicking here will get you there instead.)

They obviously love being squirrels. And in their own way, they are celebrating. Caged or not, for now, they are happy with their lives. And that is enough for now, until the real world explodes into the kind of open space that makes every day Independence Day for the rest of their lives.

Justice for all

2011-06-21T13:08:00.004-04:00

The squirrels could use a couple of good lawyers.

They are regularly indicted in the headlines. "Squirrels Turn off the Lights in Centralia," "Power outage closes Richmond's Manchester courthouse," and "Bethesda Power Outage blamed on Squirrel," all real-life news stories about the unfortunate consequences of powerful incisors having met their match with the local utility company.

If that were not enough, the squirrels are regularly defamed and blamed by gardeners, who deploy everything from squirrel-proof bird-feeders to squirrel-resistant barriers for protection and preservation of their flowers and veggies. Otherwise mild-mannered, gentle nature-loving folks resort to viciously spiking their millet, sunflower or thistle seed with hot pepper as a deterrent.

And even when a kindly motorist veers to avoid hitting a squirrel crossing the road and lands in a ditch - it is the squirrel who is blamed.

"Innocent until proven guilty" apparently doesn't apply when the citizenry flicks its tail and chatters its teeth.

And still, squirrels are seen as more culpable than members of congress who, without benefit or modest cloak of fur, have lately seen fit to post their various body parts on the Internet, or to chat up underage constituents online.

Where is justice? Where is the squirrels' Bill of Rights?

Well, for one thing, squirrels don't vote.
They don't even pay taxes.
And sure, once accused of thievery or worse, they often bury the evidence too deeply to ever be unearthed by any subpoena. Then they stamp their feet in the face of constitutionality.

As July 4 approaches, however, we should consider celebrating just that spirit of unfettered independence, the kind that gave birth to our own nation in the 18th century. Surely we don't want the squirrels to secede, to draw a line in the sand, or to move elsewhere.

Imagine having no squirrels around. There'd be no one left to blame for thievery, for power outages and for crop failures.

In the end, we'd have no one else to blame - no one but ourselves.

Into the woods

2011-06-08T14:58:00.006-04:00

They had names, but it serves no purpose to utter them now.

Their arrivals were trailed by stories from their rescuers but this morning, those stories of rescue ended when the adventure of freedom began.

Three young squirrels, saved last fall in three separate incidents and wintered over in care through the difficult season, were released back into their lives, and as they explored the world beyond their carrying cage, they took their names and their stories with them.

Neither will be of use to them now: Everything about them has blended into history just as their coats now meld seamlessly with the high bark of the woodland trees. This trio is indistinguishable from the parts of the forest they were born to inhabit.

In videos and photos, I can always hold them forever.

In truth, though, they were never mine.

Godspeed, little ones.

No end to their world

2011-05-21T11:58:00.005-04:00

I know with great certainty that the world is not going to end today: The squirrels are outside, burying nuts.

There is something very forward-looking about the way they cache these super-seeds. This is their equivalent of the IRA, the 401-K, the SEP. This is their retirement plan (though squirrels would never be so foolish as to hang up their successful careers. Gnawing, nut-burying and baby-squirrel-making has always been far, far too profitable a venture.)

Forget all the grand predictions and warnings you’ve heard about sudden doom. Squirrels believe in the future. They're too busy building tomorrow's natural world and populating it to worry about final sunsets.

So let the earthquakes keep still. Let the ocean suck back its tsunamis and hold them for another day. Let the locusts and plagues fly off somewhere. Anywhere but this planet.

The squirrels are far too busy for Armageddon. There are forests to plant, after all. Nuts to crack. Trees to grow. And baby squirrels to make, to populate the branches.

So please don't bother the squirrels today with any talk of finality: They're caught up in the rapture of the moment.

Squirrels in the Royal family tree

2011-04-29T21:42:00.003-04:00

It’s not the tree, it’s the acorns. Any self-respecting squirrel knows that.

And so, with that, British uber-bride, Kate Middleton, endeared herself to the rodentia of the world by dangling silver acorns on either side of her head on her wedding day.

With those ears, William’s bride also won some squirrels’ hearts. She couldn’t have done it with the confection that was her white Sarah Burton dress – or with its voluminous 9-foot train. She couldn’t even have come close to wooing them with her sparkling Cartier tiara.

She had to hang two tree nuts from her lobes.

The earrings were inspired by the brand new Middleton family coat of arms, an insignia clad with three acorns – symbolizing Kate and her two siblings.

And somewhere in the trees not far from Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, the squirrels were perched on branches applauding. On nature's own receiving line, they were chittering, stamping their feet and flicking their tails – the squirrel equivalent, one would assume, of cheering.

But these squirrels weren’t throwing any rice. On this day, only the best of nature’s confetti would do: they got busy digging up – what else? – some acorns of their own.

One bright-eyed, bushytailed business

2011-04-15T15:14:00.008-04:00

It's time to debunk two myths - both deal with things that are everywhere and, we hope, are equally well-loved: flying squirrels and peanut butter.

Flying squirrels do not, in fact, fly. These small arboreal rodents glide by the grace of a membrane, known as a patagium, located between their front limbs and their bodies.

And peanut butter (we're talking about the good kind here) does not stick to the roof of your mouth. Properly prepared, it delivers a melt-in-your-mouth experience that is as savory and satisfying to humans as, well, nuts would be to any self-respecting squirrel.

Which brings us to our next point: To all those disgruntled restaurant patrons who've ever cried out, "Waiter, there's a fly in my soup," we say, stop ordering the soup. Tell the waiter to bring you a Flying Squirrel in your Peanut Butter instead.

There are, of course, no flying squirrels in peanut butter. But in Eugene, Oregon, two squirrel-loving entrepreneurs have fashioned a peanut-butter spread that has every bit of the appeal of a cute furry face begging at the door for goodies. Even the logo for Flying Squirrel Peanut Butter, complete with wings and cherubic countenance, says: "adorable."

Two college roommates, faced with an unexpected peanut-butter shortage at home one day, cracked that problematic nut by plugging in the food processor and creating their own, and soon liked the real thing so much, they began experimenting with a variety of imaginative ingredients. Soon, word-of-mouth led to orders. And then more orders. Finally, a website, a blog and - yes - a business and business partnership.

By admission of her friend and business partner, Keeley Tillotson, Erika Welsh is the squirrelier of the duo. She channels her inner sciurus carolinensis by storing a cache of her daily uneaten snacks, digging them up, as needed, as the afternoon progresses.

But both adore squirrels and are practiced in the friendly chatter of the business world: They are using it to expand their homespun nest, one nut at a time.

Ah, but debunking myths only goes so far: This is one peanut butter that sticks in people's minds and this is one Flying Squirrel that has really flown: Humans clearly love it. Crave it. Want it. And are ordering it.

Still, the ultimate field test remains: What do the squirrels think? We await word back from the woodlands where, even now, the small fur-bearing captains of industry have just caught the scent of freshly ground nuts in the Oregon air and their mouths are salivating with curiosity.

Without a paddle

2011-03-28T15:24:00.007-04:00

How did a young squirrel get trapped inside the toilet of a businessman's hotel room in Malawi?

That is, in fact, what happened according to this account, and many others, about traveling entrepreneur Duncan Goose.

In the photo taken by the startled traveler, the squirrel, to say the least, looks distressed, if not altogether disgusted: A ceramic commode is not exactly a treetop in the great outdoors, and there is no material to be found in a toilet bowl that makes for suitable nesting.

The British businessman, however, had the presence of mind (once he overcame the shock) to rescue the little squirrel and set him (or her) free. That was both a kindness, and a commendable move.

This is not the first time a squirrel and a toilet have had a similarly unpleasant encounter. In December, an unfortunate squirrel turned up in an equally flushable situation as related by a news account we wrote about from Oklahoma. In September 2008, a story from Canada told how another squirrel, entrapped in the household plumbing fixture, freed himself and became airborne toward the little boy who discovered him.

Perhaps that style exit was appropriate, seeing as the Canadian rodent in this situation was a flying squirrel.

But what of Duncan Goose's discovery? Did the squirrel know that Goose, by virtue of his career, had an intimate relationships with toilets: His company manufacturers toilet tissue.

However, it was a nearby hand towel - and not a single-ply roll - that proved to be the little creature's salvation. Goose proferred it as a makeshift ladder to climb and I am sure the little squirrel was at least momentarily grateful.

But why do the denizens of oak and maple end up, every now and again, entrapped in the legacy purportedly left by Sir Thomas Crapper?

This will, perhaps, continue to be a mystery well-worth plumbing.

Assault by rumor

2011-03-17T12:25:00.008-04:00

Now it's getting ugly. Enough already. The news is swirling once again with news of yet another squirrel "attack," this one in Bennington, Vermont.

Hide the kids, folks. While you're at it, hide your elderly relatives too: Both print and broadcast reports even are even making use the "R" word (rabies), a virus not commonly associated with squirrels. Squirrels simply don't carry it, they simply don't harbor or transmit the deadly virus. The only thing going viral here is the report of the Mad Serial Killer Rodent of Vermont, the suspect identified as a furry, gray 2-pound assassin who stalks his human victims and then detonates himself as an out-of-control IED.

These reports liken the squirrel to nature's own Weapon of Mass Destruction. But this sounds more like mass hysteria than anything else - and the media outlets aren't helping. At least the Fox channel right there in Bennington, Vermont had the good sense to include the wizened input of one of the wildlife wardens whose words of reassurance seemed somehow to calm the crazed locals. A newspaper did the responsible thing and quoted a local veterinarian who, pretty much, provided the same reassurance. Hopefully that had a calming influence on residents who probably began seeking refuge in whatever bomb shelters were left over from the Cold War era. (Hey, if they were good enough to ward off the Russians, they should work just fine against the squirrels, no?)

C'mon Vermonters. You know better. Your state is probably one of the northeast's last bastions of nature-friendliness.

Know this as a fact: Squirrels are not predators. They rank, unfortunately, quite low on the food chain which places their status at prey. That's "prey," meaning that someone is out to get them and eat them. Sometimes a hawk, sometimes an owl, sometimes a fox. Even a stray cat or, yes, a sports-minded human toting a loaded gun.

Are killer squirrels are out there, clinging to every tree branch, stalking us, waiting to get us? I think not.

They might well ask us to pray instead of prey. Seems they need it, these days. Ignorance can be deadly. Especially in Vermont.

Time out for squirrels

2011-03-14T11:27:00.004-04:00

OK, who took the missing hour? Thanks to Daylight Saving Time, what was 1 a.m. Sunday became 2 a.m. Sunday or - wait - was it 1 a.m. or was it 2 a.m. or was it 3 a.m.? And when does it go back to 2 a.m. or 1 a.m?? In my head, I keep hearing those notorious 1950s lyrics, "Istanbul was Constantinople, Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople..." So it's really 2 a.m. but now it's 3 a.m. and now it's 4 a.m. and now it's 5 a.m. but maybe it should be 4 a.m. or maybe it was really 1 a.m. after all.

Or maybe I'd be better off in Istanbul.
Or Constantinople.

The squirrels, on the other hand (in this case, the hour hand) don't seem to mind. They've adjusted. Delightfully diurnal, they live year round on Nut Savings Time, impervious to humans' machinations surrounding the world's circadian rhythms.

Rise and shine (a little earlier): Here they come. It's half-after Almond, a quarter to Brazil Nut. It's 20 after Walnut. With spring just days away, the squirrels have been working overtime - who has the luxury of looking at the clock?

But the question remains: Where did that hour go? Some suggest the squirrels stashed it beneath a maple tree or stuffed it high in the branches in one of their dreys and are keeping it there until fall.

Other suggest the squirrels took that hour and cracked it open between their teeth, then swallowed its innards whole.

Or maybe that hour never existed at all. Hours and minutes are, after all, the obsessions of humans, not squirrels. And none of it matters, at least not to them: Somewhere between 6 and 12 hungry squirrels have already been at the back door - or the front door - since the sun came up, making their demands.

"The time is NOW," they are saying.

Perhaps they are right: Seize the day. Or at least, the next nut that comes along.

Squirrels behaving badly

2011-03-08T10:39:00.004-05:00

Talk to any avid gardener or overly protective homeowner and they'll swear that the squirrel is the Charlie Sheen of the wildlife community: A squirrel engages in public mating with reckless serial abandon, has a penchant for crack, particularly when the crack is carefully aimed at the outer coating of addictive acorns, nuts and other hard-shelled yummies. And they dig up dirt. Lots of it. Often on a well-groomed lawn and lovingly planted garden.

Let's not even talk about bird feeders, the seedier side of their long rap sheet.

The squirrel scores "Two and a Half Points" for popularity in some people's playbook. Never mind causing the cancellation of a hit TV show; a squirrel, with a well-aimed chomp of those finely honed teeth, can throw an entire metropolitan area into a sea of blacked-out powerless void. Now that's cancellation power!

OK, so their manners aren't exactly Disney or Beatrix Potter. But remember, even Martha Stewart, with her seemingly impeccable manners and teacup-proper taste, ended up making her exit in a hand-knit prison poncho.

Besides, you don't see many squirrels plastered in full color on the covers of the supermarket tabloids, wearing string bikinis, too-small thongs and oversized, obscene tattoos. You don't see them declaring defiantly, in 42-point headline type: "I don't know the father of my last litter of 8 but I'm keeping them anyway!" or "I'm not sure who gave me mange but I know it's curable!"

Does anyone think to thank them for aerating garden soil with those tiny paws, or for planting the world's giant forests by cracking (and then leaving) all those acorns? How many hours of sweet laughter have resulted from sitting on a Sunday morning watching their treetop antics, especially the young ones first finding the balance in their "tree legs."

They're not perfect but in some eyes, they're pretty close. Squirrels ride high in the trees but have just as much appeal when they're showing their down-to-earth side. They lived on the planet before us and will likely - if we don't destroy the planet - outlive us too. Sorry, Charlie. Say what you will about their naughty antics: The sheen will never be off the squirrel.

The 2011 SQU'OSCARS? No contest!

2011-02-28T01:29:00.005-05:00

Live from the Holly-studded Woods, the Academy of Bushytails has spoken. The stars have all walked the gray carpet and now....it is time to announce recipients of this year's SQU'OSCAR AWARDS.

Films like "The Social Nutwork," "The Black Squirrel," "The King's Chatter" and "True Grey" never had a chance in this field of contenders.

The envelope please:

Best Squirrel in a Nut-Burying Role: Mr. Tilty, for being able to crack, cache and even eat a few walnuts while handling neurological challenges.

Visual Effects: Residents of the nestbox in the maple on the west side of the property, for leaping, climbing and hanging upside down while emptying the suet feeder.

Best Supporting Branch: The sycamore tree on the east end of the property for holding up under strong wind conditions and also under a few fat-butt squirrels.

Music (original score): Doorknob Mama, the matriarch of the yard, for her unusually melodic mating calls.

Costume Design: All the locals, for managing to keep their coats intact and pest-free during a season that usually brings more than a few cases of mange.

And finally:

Squirrel of the Year: This will not be awarded. The walnut statuette has been gnawed beyond recognition. The judges are going back to their nests until next year in the hopes that competitors exhibit better manners in the future.

Sports fans, are ya ready for some Furball?

2011-02-05T21:55:00.004-05:00

Oh, the fur's going to be flying in Dallas, Texas tomorrow.

Never before has there been such gridiron animosity. And never before such gridiron animal-osity. The Green Bay Snackers are about to square off against the Pittsburgh Squealers.

All eyes are on the opening moves: Just how long will the acorn have to be in play before someone scores the first Munchdown - or buries the acorn deep in the opposing team's side of the field?

Will there be penalties for biting the opponent on the back of the neck? What if a player is supposed to pass the acorn to a teammate, but cracks and eats it instead?

And how 'bout that glitzy halftime show: The Squirrel Nut Zippers, newly reunited, playing a compendium of their classics!

And don't forget those notorious, eye-popping commercials: Nutella, Skippy Peanut Butter, Walnut Acres Natural Foods, Audubon Bird Seed and Starbucks Hazelnut Coffee. Plenty of money's been paid to hawk (OK, poor choice of words here) these wares.

So let the game begin and may the better team bask in the victory of the National Furball League. Their NFL trophy, in this case, will necessarily be short-lived. In less than 24 hours, the sun will come up once more and the skirmishes will begin anew on the gridiron we call our backyards.

The chuck's not chuckling now!

2011-02-01T18:43:00.009-05:00

Chuck this!

Snow is piled so deep in metropolitan New York that Malverne Mel, a regional rodent of some notoriety, has ended up taking a powder. Winter’s long frozen shadow has snuffed out his prognosticating prowess.

That's left Malverne Mel on burrowed time. He plans to be a no-show in the great outdoors. Not even Punxsutawney Phil could have predicted this: A winter so bad that even one of his fellow groundhogs can't take it.

That leaves us with a few meager options to discern if we’ll have an early spring:

1. Play the 1978 Andy Gibb hit, “Shadow Dancing,” backwards. (This would be a lot easier in the age of vinyl instead of MP3s). Gibbs’ voice, though barely intelligible, can be heard identifying the date on which the temperature will crawl past the 60-degree mark.

2. Shine a flashlight on a squirrel. If he sees his shadow – and don't worry, he will – you will owe him six more weeks of walnuts. Squirrels don’t care about spring anyway. They’ve been mating since December and scoff anything resembling a calendar. They all know that us fool humans will feed them no matter what the month or season.

3. You can also wait until Feb. 3. That’s the start of the next major holiday, Chinese New Year. This year we celebrate the Year of the Rabbit. Rabbits are lagomorphs, not rodents - but even if the groundhog doesn’t show up, the rabbit will be right on schedule. The Lunar Calendar guarantees it.

Here's the good news: rabbits move so fast they're rarely looking for their own shadows. People born in the Year of the Rabbit are calm, considerate, outgoing, friendly and gregarious. They also do not enjoy conflict. The Year of the Rabbit that lies ahead of us is described, in general, as a quiet year.

With one less groundhog out there to stir things up during a winter that almost everyone seems to be cursing, that rabbit may be just what we need.

Especially if the rabbit turns out to be Bugs Bunny: What we need, now more than ever, is for the rabbit to take one look at the snow - the same snow that's keeping Malverne Mel underground - and tell us, "Th-th-th-th-th-th-that's all folks!"

Let's chuck it all!

2011-01-27T22:15:00.003-05:00

How much winter would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck winter?

How much spring would a groundhog hog if a ground hog could hog spring?

And -- what’s it worth to you, anyway?

The job market, the economy and global warming have left us all feeling pretty much in the hole right now. But consider the plight of Punxsutawney Phil, the iconic prognosticating rodent who is consigned to spend every winter there for most of his life. Market conditions, tastes in music, art and fashion, and even the growing popularity of the iPad have little impact on him. He stays out of chat rooms and you cannot follow him on Twitter. Don’t even try: Down below the ground he goes in autumn. And up he comes every Feb. 2, on the date that celebrates such a rodent-centric occasion.

Punxsutawney Phil is a kind of Reverse Santa Claus. He is equally fat and his arrival is much-anticipated but he is not so jolly, it seems, for having had his sleep disturbed. Cranky and bleary-eyed, this notorious resident of the North Hole possesses no elves or reindeer. And he climbs up into the light from down below instead of sliding down from the roof into the dark. No milk and cookies await him. Wide-eyed children pen him no letters (not even any e-mail or, more appropriately, G-mail). And sadly, the gift he leaves under our collective holiday tree is not always a welcome one.

So do we chuck the winter, Chuck? Do we go whole hog for spring?

The answer is only days away. Meanwhile, for the next few days, tread lightly on the earth where, only a few feet below, the most important player in the Weather Underground is quietly rousing from a long winter’s nap.

Perhaps, this year, it is best to let sleeping chucks lie.

In appreciation of Appreciation Day

2011-01-20T21:07:00.007-05:00

First, the bad news: Jan. 21 can no longer be called Squirrel Appreciation Day. Now, the good news: It’s time to rechristen this sacred occasion as Squirrel Appreciation Day Appreciation Day.

If you really want to do your part, take the next 24 hours to appreciate the fact that 10 years after it was founded by a North Carolina wildlife rehabilitator, this holiday not only still exists but, like an acorn sprouting through the soil, it is branching out and growing strong.

So you're chagrined at being caught unprepared? You forgot to hang the wreaths, to string the holiday lights, and you never bought those plane tickets to grandma’s house?

Worse yet, your stockings are still on your feet, instead of being hung by the chimney - with or without care.

Worry not, you can still head over the river and through the woods – in fact, you should, because that’s where you’ll find all the squirrels.

And you can still leave presents under the tree. That’s the easy part, by the way: Every tree, you see, is as good as the next when your gift list includes walnuts, hazelnuts, pecans and almonds. These are happy one-size-fits-all surprises that don’t need wrapping or bows and aren’t likely to be exchanged one day later for a Sony PlayStation, a Wii or a pair of diamond earrings.

You see, squirrels are easy to appreciate, even if they aren’t particularly appreciative themselves.

On the other hand (which in this case, happens to be the other paw), squirrels don’t seem to mind that their special day falls on the winter calendar sandwiched between Penguin Awareness Day, Jan. 20, an observance that mandates only the most formal attire, and National Blonde Brownie Day, Jan. 22, an occasion that spawns unfettered, nonstop, sugar-laced carbo-loading (but only as a warmup exercise for the next festival, Jan. 23, which is National Pie Day). Squirrels have no problem playing second banana to these holidays (even though National Banana Lover’s Day doesn’t come until sometime in August.) Actually, squirrels like bananas. They could celebrate along with the rest of us.

There is, however, one special celebration going on in Corvallis, Oregon, that has taken squirrel appreciation to new heights – though, in this case, it’s not the treetop kind. A popular local establishment, known as Squirrel’s Tavern, is hosting the third annual fundraiser of the nearby Chintimini Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. Chintimini not only appreciates squirrels but takes them in and cares for them, along with assorted other wild neighbors. Celebrants at this fundraiser are cautioned not to drink and drive, and definitely not to drink and drive and feed the squirrels.

For especially overzealous festival observers, an even stronger holiday warning has been posted on the web site of the National Wildlife Federation. It notes that National Squirrel Appreciation Day coincides with another observance: National Hug Day. While the two gestures of affection seem, at first glance, to be a natural pairing for wildlife lovers, don’t be fooled.

"Please don’t combine the two," the web site warns. "Keep your appreciation at a distance."

Otherwise the fur that flies may be your own.

The walk of fame

2011-01-08T13:50:00.004-05:00

Behold the glory of the celebrity signature: A one-of-a-kind, genuine article, unique in all the world, rendered right out there in the great outdoors in the unfortunate impermanence of a snowbank.

But don't be fooled -- this is a real superstar article, nonetheless.

Just as in Hollywood, the big names in our neck of the woods show up wearing glorious fur, except theirs is attached to their bodies for real (and let's face it, they wear it so much better). And just like in Hollywood, these stars are elusive, fast-moving and occasionally camera-shy.

Lacking a Grauman's Chinese Theater as a backdrop, these footprints of the famous are encased instead in snow from a storm that fell from the sky just two days ago. These tiny paws are welcome calling cards, letting everyone check in and announce that everyone, once again, survived.

This is winter's Walk of Fame.

Just don't expect any of these signatures to be offered at auction by Sotheby's. Fast as the snow vanishes, so shall these happy signs of coming and going.

Celebrities, after all, still prefer glorious anonymity, no matter the weather.

Weight, weight! Don't tell me!

2011-01-02T14:37:00.004-05:00

They have big butts, fat necks and haven't stopped eating since the holiday season started more than a month ago. They make no apologies for their excessive avoirdupois: Finding a ready stash of goodies, they would eat it while upside-down, if need be. And often, they do:

Squirrels are going heels-over-head for any chance at a fast-paced, no-holds-barred eating binge, whether at the bird-feeder, the exposed garbage pail or even a picnic table in spring. They'll hang on your back door. Your front door. Your pants leg, even.

It's 2011 and you won't find any self-conscious squirrels sucking in their midsections or squeezing their lard-upholstered back ends into some fashionable workout suit just to impress other squirrels. They are at their fattest at this time of year, which also happens to be the season for squirrel dating and mating. And mid-winter flab does not stand between any squirrel and the chance to have a hot Saturday night any day of the week.

Their motto: "Love thy blubber as thou wouldst love thyself."

And so they have no time for bench presses, laps around the track or even crunching their abs. As they shuttle between orgies that orbit around either food or fertility rituals, these libidinous little lardbutts are playing to the point of exhaustion, as if the Roman Empire never fell at all.

Sooner or later, I suspect, they'll weigh in (so to speak) and tell the rest of us how things went. They'll find most of us waiting to hear - in the far end of the parking lot outside the fitness club.

A new breed of Christmas

2010-12-25T14:26:00.007-05:00

It's Christmas, and the squirrels are out there exchanging gifts of fecundity. Devout pagans that they are, worshipping the trees and the cycles of the Earth, one could expect no less of them.

They haven't been mobbing the malls, crushing the kiosks or even tying up the toll-free numbers with orders for monogrammed acorns, sheepskin-lined nests or elegant combs and brushes to keep their busy tails bright. They certainly don't need to give one another any nutcrackers.

No, these squirrels are giving one another the gift that keeps on giving. And giving. And giving.

And so...off come the wrappings on their brand of generosity, bought with hormones instead of debit cards. They are bestowing the seeds of the spring crop of youngsters. One size fits all. No exchanges necessary. Sadly, no manufacturers' guarantees either.

So ultimately, we ask in the spirit of this season, is it truly better to give than to receive? Try asking all those mama squirrels in about 48 days.

Girls just wanna have...fun?

2010-12-16T22:43:00.004-05:00

Every high school class had at least one - the girl who'd go with any guy, the one whose reputation won her a kind of red letter emblazoned across her chest (or any other equally active body part).

Now, it seems, almost every tree in the United Kingdom has one too: A red squirrel for whom The Mating Game constitutes a second career, if not an obsession, second only to the gathering and cracking of nuts.

The truth can finally be told: Female red squirrels in Britain are sluts. Bad girls. Bushytailed hos. Researchers at the University of Guelph in Toronto are making big news as the academic peeping Toms who have successfully charted the drey-hopping ways of these frisky hot mommas.

It all comes down to opportunity, big opportunity, on the single day in the breeding season when the female reds come into season. They don't just wanna have fun, they wanna have a healthy litter and the more they shop around where the sample is ample, the more likely they are to achieve their goal.

"We found the more males in the area interested in participating in the mating chase, the more squirrels she will mate with," Guelph researcher Eryn McFarlane is quoted as saying in a variety of published accounts of this report.

So the likelihood is eventually that most red squirrel females will indeed find their Mr. Right. They can't go wrong. After all, a tree is not just a tree anymore: It's a singles bar.

He was just a potty animal

2010-12-12T17:48:00.008-05:00

Fact #1: A squirrel does not belong in a toilet.

Fact #2: A toilet is an exit, not an entrance. You don't want to be going into it; you merely want to interface with it long enough to send stuff on its way.

Fact #3: This past week's story about a squirrel in a toilet in Oklahoma - the one that made national news - is mildly amusing (and only mildly so) solely by virtue of its happy ending. Otherwise, there is not a shred of "funny" to the sequence of events.

But, it seems, there was indeed a squirrel in a toilet in a woman's home in Oklahoma this past week and she called 911 because she considered it an emergency - for her, presumably, and not for the squirrel, though the unfortunate creature was clearly the one up the ceramic creek without the proverbial paddle.

The news accounts don't say how the squirrel got into the toilet, much less how he entered the house or bathroom in the first place, and even the video accompanying the stories gives no clear view of whether the squirrel was injured - but by all accounts, he wasn't.

Fortunately, there are only a few true-to-life Demons of the Toilet we need to fear. In New York City, many apartment-dwellers are haunted by the prospect of sewer alligators emerging from their commodes in the dark of night and creating all manner of violence. This is the uptown equivalent of the Loch Ness Monster.

And there are other horrifying toilet nightmares that, frankly,I would rather not recount in polite company of my readers. But suffice it to say, these scenarios involve spicy food.

A commode-caught bushytail, however, is hardly a toilet terror.
And though the woman was right to call 911, she was clearly looking to save herself, not the squirrel.

The good news is the squirrel survived.

Perhaps now the woman will have learned something: When it comes hysteria and toilets, it's best to keep a lid on both.

Power to the squirrels

2010-12-10T00:07:00.008-05:00

Oh to be small, gray and powerful. And oh, to be a gatekeeper of sorts at a public high school where kids are almost always clamoring for an early recess.

One squirrel made the ultimate sacrifice this past week in granting an early exit to students at Summit High School in New Jersey. He paid with his life.

He separated the educational institution from the power grid, no doubt with the only power tools he had at his ready disposal: his teeth.
The cost, to the squirrel, was probably a dear one (it almost always is): He perished in the act of liberating the kids from class. The squirrel went out in a blaze (or at least a smoldering) of glory.

And as one news account relates the tale, shortly after the heroic rodent killed the juice (and himself) some 1,041 students and an estimated 125 staff were set free. Any squirrel can relate to that kind of love: freedom at all costs.

Jersey Central Power and Light indicated that the high school was the only customer to have lost power.

The squirrel's final act, then, seems to have been highly targeted - specific to the school. It was an early Christmas gift to students who would rather have been home anyway instead of hitting the books.

If that doesn't create another 1,041 new squirrel fans instantly, I don't know what does.

Rest in peace little guy. And let's hope the students stopped to feed a few of your cousins on their way home that morning.

A fly-by-night operation, for sure

2010-11-27T08:48:00.010-05:00

In the interest of keeping our nation safe from the menace of bad acorns, a government division known as the TSA - Touchy Squirrel Agency - has instituted mandatory full-body scans and pat-downs of all flying squirrels before they can become airborne.

This has not been easy to implement, particularly when the fullest if those full bodies barely weighs an average of 85 grams (less than 3 ounces) and does most of its gliding nocturnally. This has not been easy particularly because, whether or not the aforementioned suspect rodent is harboring an Acorn of Evil somewhere in those tiny body folds, at the very least he or she is in full possession of the Incisors of Destruction, notorious flesh-piercing instruments are not shy about making an appearance any time of day or night.

Still, TSA agents have their orders to follow: Flying squirrels everywhere are being told to drop their tails, open their flyer flaps, known as patagiums, and give it up for the good of their country.

The battle cry can be clearly heard throughout the land: "HEY, DON'T TOUCH MY JUNK!!!!" - followed by a rapid chattering of tiny teeth.

"Is it really worth the delay and inconvenience?" muse their larger cousins, the eastern grays and the fox squirrels. "We would rather travel by branch."

"Don't look at me when it comes to going anywhere by air," reply the chipmunks, 13-lined ground squirrels, golden mantled squirrels and other land-locked kin. "Our side of the family has kept its feet on the ground for generations."

"Now," lament the nation's flying squirrels, "everyone truly knows that I am naked beneath my fur."

And what of the bad acorns themselves? If they cannot be transported from Point A to Point B by some airborne good-squirrel-gone-bad, where will they end up surfacing?

Stay out of the wilderness, friends:

Surveillance informs us that the bad acorns, no longer being stashed in the various crevices of bad squirrels-in-transit, are ending up buried instead in the Big Bad Woods where, quite predictably, they will grow up to become Big Bad Evil Trees, hundreds of times their original size.

"See?" say the proud agents of the TSA. "The government's system is working."

Pilgrims, all

2010-11-25T10:28:00.006-05:00

They're poised at the door, as always, and they want an extra helping of pecan or walnut stuffing. The action is all-too-familiar and unrelenting. And it shows no mercy: gobble, gobble, gobble.

But these guests lack the patience required for the transformation of pumpkin into pie.

And sweet potatoes...are sweet enough, as is.

They are wide-eyed pilgrims from the treetops who've become settlers on my doorstep, colonizing my front yard and the property behind.

The only grace they say, or show, before (and after) their nonstop meals is their grace and deftness in the branches arching toward the sky.

And afterward, there are no Black Friday specials - every day on Earth is a shopping frenzy for them, and I'm always left picking up the tab.

This Thanksgiving Day parade surrounding my house is not sponsored by Macy's, but me. I deserve to ride on my own float for all the effort I make. But I'll settle for the quiet rap of tiny claws (not Santa's) against the windows and doors instead.

And I'll be grateful for them all.

Minus one

2010-11-10T21:52:00.007-05:00

Some squirrels are never meant to go back into the wild. They arrive into the care of rehabilitators, broken and damaged, and can never be fully restored to physical wholeness.

So it was with CurleyQue, who in the summer of 2000 was a fallen baby providing a soft landing for the two brothers in his litter, but only by virtue of having landed before they did on the hard, unforgiving earth. His brothers were none the worse for their journey; CurleyQue, however, remained unconscious for a few days.

He emerged from his twilight state into a world of challenges: his nose had been irreparably broken, he had issues with balance, his ever-growing incisors were maloccluded, requiring frequent trimming, and he did not have the best immune system.

What he had, however, was heart. What he had was courage. What he had was an incredible spirit to go forth into life for the next 10 years seeing himself quite clearly as the center of a big universe, kicking up his heels, burying nuts in the wilds of his indoor world, wherever he could - in his bedding, in a pair of shoes, behind a piece of furniture.

When his right eye clouded over with a cataract, partly from age, more likely from his original trauma, he never lost that clear vision of who he was and what he wanted. No vision could ever be clearer than that of a wild animal, even a damaged one.

In the arithmetic of the wild world, we rehabilitators often deal more with multiplication, and the numbers grow exponentially each spring and autumn as the heart of squirrel breeding season delivers its litters to our doorsteps.

Now, as the sun sets earlier and an autumn freeze sinks its claws into the earth, we are surrounded by subtraction. Loss of leaves from the trees. Loss of life-affirming sunlight. And loss of life itself.

On Monday, Nov. 8, 2010, at 2:15 a.m., CurleyQue closed his eyes for the last time and went free. He taught us much during this precious, privileged decade. Now we are the ones in free-fall toward a hard, unforgiving reality.

But for us, there is no one - and nothing - to cushion the sudden, damaging impact.

Squirrels can't get enough holidays

2010-11-04T02:07:00.007-04:00

The Formby Times, a publication in the United Kingdom, released a rather a happy report on Nov. 3, with details about Squirrel Fun Day, hosted by the National Trust.

The occasion was actually part of a larger observance - Red Squirrel Week. In Great Britain, this might well be considered a particular kind of holy week, given that nation's love of its native reds.

When you're a squirrel, however, every day is a holiday. Or it ought to be.

And, in fact, the folks in Formby did engage in quasi-religious rituals, or at least pursued the activities with religious fervor. Celebrants engaged in a squirrel scavenger hunt (no competition here - squirrels can sniff out nuts like no one else) and also competed to see if they could jump as far as a squirrel (watch out for low-hanging branches!)

The squirrels are always the winners, paws-down.

Before it was all over, though, youngsters at the event constructed a huge squirrel nest, known as a drey, for the reds to inhabit or play in. In its own way, this was a sort of religious offering to these much-worshipped reds. You can't argue with that kind of offering. After all, lesser disciples have always tithed their nuts to the little treetop icons.

Prediction: With Squirrel Appreciation Day, in January, still more than a month away, the next big holiday on the calendar, no doubt, will be something called Squirrelmas! Only the beard is missing: Britain's beloved natives already have the requisite red suit.

In tennis, no love lost for squirrels

2010-10-05T09:45:00.008-04:00

Stop blaming the squirrels. Please, sports fans, stop blaming the squirrels.

In this case, it was one Georgia squirrel - one whose unfortunate proximity to a mountain biking Robby Ginepri caused him to wipe out a few days ago and break an ulna. It appears that the tennis star will now be sidelined for several weeks and no, he can't even remotely claim it's the result of an on-court accident.

Squirrels don't play singles tennis, and they surely couldn't be roped into playing doubles either. In fact, Ginepri is surely convinced by now that the small creatures can hardly be classified as team players at all. Squirrels play their own game, and proudly so.

This little squirrel, thanks to Ginepri's selflessness which saved him from a fatal collision, is still in the game.

And fortunately, Ginepri himself expects to be back in action in time for January's competition, to prepare for the Australian Open. But, in our eyes, Ginepri has already won big where it counts.

Giving a squirrel a brake

2010-09-09T12:41:00.009-04:00

Wildlife rehabilitators are known to build unlikely alliances all the time: A tree-cutter, an exterminator, even the occasional hunter.

Now add to that list, automobile parts manufacturer. And, even more locally, add neighborhood auto mechanics who stock those auto parts, made by Monroe, thus taking up the mantle as Squirrel Savior.

On Long Island, one local repair shop waves this flag of allegiance publicly and proudly:

My longtime friend, David P., a professional photographer who sent me this image shortly after discovering it, couldn't have been more impressed to learn that the auto fix-it folks down the street from him are not just customer-friendly but squirrel-friendly too.

In a marketplace where ethics and conscience count, consumers who are energy-conscious, who recycle, who reduce the waste-stream and make purchases that are organic and non-polluting are considered "green."

By inference, Monroe and its patrons are "grey."

The message, in this well-publicized national ad campaign is that if you equip your car or SUV with a Monroe shock or two, you will be able to stop easily and instantly just in case a squirrel, absorbed in the daily rush-hour of autumnal activities, cannot.

Toward that end, this banner is warm and good-humored, engaging and convincing. And the squirrel? Too cute for words. Except for one word - Monroe - which is, of course, the campaign's whole idea. That's the one word they want you to remember.

I know I won't forget. I know that seeing it made me slam on the brakes on whatever I was doing at my computer when this beautiful image arrived in my inbox - and take notice of it. Effective. Dramatic. And, yeah, downright adorable.

Call it "Monroe Shock and awwwwwwwwwwww."

Bollywood goes Bushywood

2010-08-29T00:52:00.001-04:00

The blockbuster Bollywood dance number that wraps up the hit Indian film import, "Slumdog Millionaire," has got nothing on these fleet-footed squirrels in love:

How sweet it is too, that this brief rodent romance is actually a commercial for the popular chocolate KitKat candy - which like "Slumdog," is also a hit in India. Created by the international advertising giant agency, JWT, the ad spot wisely shows that squirrels are more partial to nuts than chocolate (Smart squirrels: Chocolate is not a recommended food for rodents anyway). But just because squirrels aren't chocolate-lovers (and shouldn't be), doesn't mean they can't be convincing pitchmen for it. Squirrels don't drive cars either (so far as we know) but they've been effective at selling Jeep, Honda, and a variety of other auto makes. Squirrels have even been used to sell auto insurance, financial services, even chewing gum - so why not chocolate?

Why limit the advertising power of squirrels simply to that of nut salesmen (and sales women)? Their potential as trusted advertising spokesrodents is boundless.

Remember, you read it here first: The next presidential election will be different. Democrats and Republicans will shed the conventional donkeys and elephants and go tail-to-tail in their ad campaigns on national TV.

May the best squirrel win.

Nothing left to give but freedom

2010-08-22T01:26:00.005-04:00

When there is nothing left for you to do, you have to open the door. Baby squirrels don't last forever.

If you've done your job, fed them, sheltered them, healed their wounds as best as you could, watched them emerge into healthy wild animals, an open door, a hatch swinging wide, is the only thing left you can give them now. The baby squirrels are long gone; in their place are juveniles, grown and growing impatient.

Open the door. Freedom rushes in at them like a deep breath they've been waiting their whole lives to inhale. It fills them.

Open the door. Let them come flying out or - in this case, strolling out, matter-of-factly. At whatever speed they choose, they will still know what to do. They are following a map that has been etched into their bones since birth.

Say goodbye. Love them from a distance. Don't forget them, though that favor won't likely be returned. And as you leave the woods, empty-handed, move on. Close the door. They already have.

The little warrior

2010-08-13T23:29:00.005-04:00

An armada typically signifies a fleet of warships or military aircraft or, at best, just a mass of objects moving powerfully in unison.

Meet a different kind of Armada: The little squirrel pictured here, who bears that name, first graced these pages in the July 16 post as a days-old pinkie. He was the first newborn of the season for a rehabilitator friend of mine, Barbara, and his arrival in her care signaled that the seasons had already changed in the squirrel world - that they had once again arrived in the autumn cycle of their lives.

Armada can hold a syringe in his tiny paws when he nurses from it and he is slowly discovering his ever-broadening world through newly opened eyes. His fate, so far, is a happy one because he has already survived the greatest battle of all - survival. The world is not very kind to newborn wildlife that has been left injured or abandoned, often by mysterious means. For just that reason, every young squirrel needs to be more than a mere soldier. Like this fortunate little guy, every one of them needs power and strength, and the will to live and become an Armada, too.

Victoria, it's no secret

2010-08-10T22:05:00.004-04:00

Under where?

Yes, under there!

Squirrel Girls, look out below! Way below! The same manufacturer who put tighty whitey underpants on the market (and on squirrels' private areas) a few years ago - those fabulous stretchy Y-fronts for males - is back with a pleasingly pink version for the ladies. Now ultra feminine squirrels can envision themselves as nothing short of fashionable femme fayTAILS, all the while retaining a modicum of modesty.

But do female squirrels really need to cover it all up? (For that matter, do male squirrels?) The answer isn't exactly a secret, least of all Victoria's.

The Archie McPhee product catalogue is betting $6.50 - the price of these delightful dainties - that those at the apex of rodent couture will scoop these up in no time. One size fits all (they're 95 percent cotton, 5 percent spandex, just in case you need to, uh, stretch your limits a bit after having snarfed everything up in a late-night acorn binge the night before.)

Sorry girls, no thong version is available. And there's no talk of a matching underwire SqunderBra for those four pairs of teats. At least not yet, anyway.

The Enrico Caruso of Squirrels

2010-08-09T01:34:00.004-04:00

Singing his treetop arias, he might well be the most operatic rodent on the planet:

Squirrel of the Month

This beautiful young squirrel most certainly captured the ears - and then the heart - of the California homeowner who decided to share the private serenade with the readers of his local paper - an appropriately named publication called The Acorn.

People who think squirrels can't speak for themselves had better listen up, and listen good. Squirrels don't just sing for their supper, they sing for warnings, for matings and yes, even - as in this case - for our attention.

This particular squirrel, however, may have been singing for his agent.

After landing in a prominent space on a page in the local weekly, the squirrel is likely to want his next public appearance on nothing less than a late-night talk show beside a host such as Jay Leno, David Letterman or Jimmy Fallon.

He might just get it too. Recall that "The Ed Sullivan Show," TV's popular 1960s fixture, had Topo Gigio, the singing Italian mouse. Then there was Alvin and the Chipmunks - a group that had their own Christmas album and, more recently, a musical film that included a "Squeakquel."

The 21st century might just be ready for another rodent with a set of musical pipes. I predict this guy's first recording could go platinum overnight. Or at least eastern grey.

The toothsome truth

2010-07-25T21:13:00.006-04:00

As the late rocker Jim Croce's lyrics advises us, you should always pick your battles wisely: Don't tug on Superman's cape. Don't spit into the wind. Don't pull that mask off that ol' Lone Ranger and ... don't mess around with squirrels' teeth.

Those ever-growing, razor-sharp incisors - the apotheosis of calcium gone wild - always win in any skirmish. These are teeth that can crack nuts and split bone and you don't want to cross their path enroute to dental disaster.

In Huntington, N.Y., at least one group of human dental practitioners has harnessed this simple scientific fact for commercial purposes. We hereby introduce Flossie the dentally conscientious squirrel - she appears to be a 13-lined ground squirrel, not a New York native - and Flossie is the spokesmodel not just for keeping your teeth sparkling and nutcracker-healthy between dental visits but for keeping your scheduled appointments.

She graces a postal card inscribed on the reverse with the following reminder: "We have reserved this time for your for your next dental checkup."

The card is downright cute, a word one doesn't normally associate with the dreaded dentist's chair. Combining dentistry with Rodentistry clearly has its perks and being cute is one of them. Indeed, I suspect those Huntington dentists may enjoy a greater-than-average compliance from even the most drill-shy patients who read the card and understand the ominous message hidden behind that engaging visage and those impeccably clean, well-flossed incisors:

Don't tug on the squirrel's temper. Be sure to spit into the sink after you get your semi-annual cleaning. And you don't mess around with Flossie.

Autumn of our discontent - already?

2010-07-16T23:48:00.006-04:00

Don't ever buy a calendar from a squirrel. They're convinced autumn is already here. Never mind that neither leaves nor acorns are dropping yet from the trees: Baby squirrels are.

This little newborn was received by, and photographed by Barbara, a rehabilitator friend of mine. The orphan is what's known as a "fall baby," not because the baby fell (though that is likely), but because the orphan's arrival on the planet at this moment in time signals the birth of the season of football, back-to-school, corduroy, marble-cover notebooks and harvest time - all right smack in the middle of the current 90+-degree heatwave here in the northeast.

If squirrels had their way, they would produce a calendar that would take us squarely from June to September, skipping the entire summer. Not that I mind, I'm a fan of cooler weather. But, much as I resent department stores' presumptuousness in hanging garland and playing Christmas carols in October, or weeks earlier, I am bothered by squirrels rushing the season. What's the hurry?

To every thing there is a season - and that includes squirrel baby season, I suppose. Squirrel baby season #1, and squirrel baby season #2. Lately they seem to blend together like one big mess.

But things could definitely be worse. Imagine if squirrels made timepieces as well as calendars. We'd be faced with an even more unfortunate prospect. People would be saying, "there's a squirrel born every minute," and the wildlife rehabilitators would be the real suckers.

Skwerl'd Cup Soccer

2010-07-11T22:51:00.004-04:00

This is Hammy, who, I'm told, would rather play soccer the conventional way than with acorns like the rest of his species. Hammy has thus been in training all year for his chosen sport.

Sadly, he did not make it to Johannesburg, South Africa for the football finals today, nor did he qualify to be part of Spain's team - which emerged the victor, despite the absence of his talents.

Besides, Hammy is not from Spain - he lives in Florida.

But Hammy will definitely be a contender in next year's Skwerl'd Cup when it is covered by ESPN (the Extraordinary Squirrel People's Network). Squirrels are, after all, naturals in this game:

They are terrific at faking out their opponents - recent news reports indicate they bury, dig up and then rebury the same nut as a way of deterring thievery by competitors.

Squirrels are also known for keeping their eye on the goal. And in this case the goal, most of the time, is FOOD.

And finally, squirrels refuse to be distracted by the mating call of the vuvuzela, whose ill-gotten cacophonies still have many humans' eardrums recovering from Post-Traumatic Stress.

It still isn't clear what a team of squirrels might do if they gained possession of the 18-karat gold trophy, which is a finely detailed sculpture depicting people standing beneath Planet Earth, holding it up. But keep your eye out for a revision of the time-honored design, with the new version sporting a few enterprising bushytails hoisting - and raiding - a gigantic feeder stuffed beyond capacity with birdseed.

In 2011, their cup - the Skwerl'd Cup - runneth over.

Small but powerful

2010-07-06T11:33:00.004-04:00

We love them because they are cute.

We love them because they are baby animals. And for many of us, we love them because they happen to be baby squirrels, just like this tiny red squirrel, anointed with the title, "Springtime Friend" by the website, The Daily Squee.

Looking at this little creature, it's hard to believe there's a world of antipathy against squirrels out there - but there is. Is there hope that it could change within this baby's lifetime? Probably not.

The world is filled with pros and cons, supporters and detractors, friends and enemies.

Let's hope this tiny red emissary of good will is seen around the globe and spreads the word that there is more good than evil in so much of nature. This baby squirrel truly is a springtime friend, even now in the summer of our lives.

Independence Day

2010-07-04T12:12:00.004-04:00

In the nation known as Squirrel, there are no flags. There is no national anthem, no pledge of allegiance (except to acorns and other tree nuts) and no militia. This largely peaceful nation needs no commander-in-chief, has no policy on nuclear proliferation and, for the most part, runs its chief industry - foraging and the gathering and burying of nuts - as a "green" enterprise.

Into this nation steps the interloper human, raising and rehabilitating the orphaned, the injured, the sick and the near-hopeless. In this enterprise, there is one goal in mind: To someday create an independence day for each of these animals so they can reclaim their lives.

The idea is nothing short of revolutionary.

And so, just a few days before the United States' own commemoration of freedom, two female squirrels - named PeeWee and Feisty by their respective finders - declared their sovereignty and ascended to the world of branches and clouds. It was a triumphant moment for all of us.

A day or so later, a sickly squirrel on our property, felled by a severe case of malocclusion, was brought into veterinary care where it was determined her case was so advanced as to be near hopeless. She was riddled with infection and the roof of her mouth had been destroyed by her overgrown lower incisors. The next day, Reba succumbed to her distress and we brought her body home for burial in the yard where she had lived, at least for a time, comfortably. She did not die an anonymous death, her life was noted - as was her passing. Her life was one of independence until illness and injury took it from her. We had to only surmise she would not have wanted any other kind of life, if she could not live free.

PeeWee and Feisty made that abundantly clear as two individual squirrels, with individual personalities and individual histories, transformed themselves into fast-moving blurs of gray and asserted their birthright in the woods.

Independence, in whatever form it comes, can be a treasured possession.

Open the release hatch on any successfully rehabilitated squirrel, poised to return to the wild, and every day - any day - can be July 4.

The way the cookies crumble

2010-06-23T22:52:00.005-04:00

There's nothing sweet these days about Duchy Originals, an allegedly tasty confection that's popular in the UK.

The acorn-embossed biscuits are leaving a bad taste in animal lovers' mouths, and so is a violent plan against grey squirrels by a high-profile British royal, Prince Charles. As a staunch proponent of saving Britain's beloved red squirrels, and reintroducing them to Cornwall, Charles is once again suggesting a specific plan of genocide against greys, who are seen as the native species' enemy.

Kill them, says the unprincely royal.
Boycott them, say more than just a few animal-loving British, who believe their own culinary cull of the "nature-friendly" Duchy Originals brand will stand as a strong symbol of protest.

"We must speak out against such arrogant meddling with nature. Prince Charles may be King someday, but he is not God," said Kate Fowler, Head of Campaigns at Animal Aid, as quoted in Great Britain's Telegraph newspaper.

Added British zoologist Juliet Gellatley: "I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that there is a minority of 'well-bred' people who may seem normal but who are bent on killing. Sadly, Prince Charles seems to be one of them, following in the footsteps of his tiger-slaughtering father."

This is serious slaughter being talked about here, and its solution cannot easily be hammed out across a kitchen table. Cookies - or rather, going cookie-less in protest - seems a somewhat weak economic sanction against such an egregious and heinous act.

British animal lovers, there's got to be a better way to put one's anger where one's mouth is.

For whom the bridge tolls

2010-06-18T23:49:00.005-04:00

The bridges are down. They collapsed, even before they were ever built.

The Mt. Graham squirrel safety bridge system slated for construction in Arizona with $1.25 million in federal funds has become a casualty of community protest. People evidently believed it was a waste of money to create of a system of rope bridges, enabling the squirrels to bypass the highways below - the roads on which many of the endangered animals lose their lives each year.

So transportation officials dropped the project.

The bridges are thus the first casualties of this unfortunate decision.

And that means unless an alternative effort is devised by local wildlife officials, the rare, endangered squirrels will continue to be casualties for some time to come.

Bridge over troubled squirrels

2010-06-18T00:06:00.007-04:00

Simon and Garfunkel would have a hard time retooling their original lyrics for the saga now taking place in Arizona: A $1.25 million federal grant is expected to help save lives of the area's endangered Mount Graham red squirrels through installation of 41 rope bridges that let the tiny critters traverse the highway below by safely going over it.

Unlike human motorists who cross over bridges all the time, driving like they might become endangered species at any moment, these little squirrels are indeed imperiled. The federal government declared them endangered back in 1987 and their fragile population has been carefully watched since then.

It seems the U.S. isn't the only place building bridges for troubled squirrels. Scotland's 300-foot-long Kingcausie Wildlife Overbridge, at the Aberdeen Bypass has the same goal, and in Longview, in the state of Washington, the "Nutty Narrows Bridge" has spanned 40 years - and all kinds of dangerous traffic on Olympic Way - to keep four-pawed pedestrians safe.

In each case, with each bridge, investments were made without any thought of gaining that money back by putting in itty-bitty toll plazas. No squirrels will be asked to toss any acorn-shaped tokens, or use anything like E-ZPass, before crossing to the other side.

No doubt this will cause bumper-to-bumper traffic and a whole new definition of rush-hour. These are great solutions, creative responses to a troubling problem, but there remains one still-unaddressed dilemma: What to do about all those bushytail-gaiters.

Shadows

2010-06-15T14:02:00.006-04:00

This is not how I will remember them: Confined to an outdoor pen, reliant on being hand fed, their wild movements limited to the parameters of the enclosure that held them. No, these are not the memories that do them justice:

But they were beautiful. And they remain so, even now. Out of my field of vision forever, they are what they had been at birth: Wild and spirited and now finally - as of this morning - free. Everything they need to have a successful life they carry in their bones, their blood, their genes.

These five siblings entered my life in early spring, their infant eyes still closed to the storm that had ravaged their nest and sent their mother fleeing. She returned briefly, and took a sixth sibling with her, but these five remained.

The photos I have of them now - the most recent ones, taken only a week ago - are merely shadows of the squirrels they are going to become. Two brothers, three sisters, they came into the world together but they go forward into it now separately, as individuals.

We sent them off with prayers and our love. The trees embrace them now.

Speaking of squirrels

2010-06-06T23:59:00.003-04:00

Chattering up in the treetops, squirrels always seem to have something to say.
But do we bother to listen?
We'd better! Increasing numbers of Corporate and Professional SpokesSquirrels are making their way into our lives.

The newest arrival is Pearl the Squirrel, official spokesrodent for the NYC Department of Parks and Recreation. Pearl came swinging onto the scene just this past spring, in grand style, and was welcomed in Manhattan's Thomas Jefferson Park as the city mascot.

Squirrel-as-mascot for NYC sure beats rat-as-mascot, as any city restaurateur will attest.

Then there's Filbert, the Freescore.com credit-minded squirrel who, teamed in this video with Ben Stein, advises folks to know the score - their credit score, in this case. Squirrels are legendary as financial whizzes so, really, it pays to heed Filbert's words.

And let's not forget Tufty the Traffic Safety Squirrel who, for more than 40 years, has been serving as an example to British children on matters of safe street crossing. Since 1961, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents has relied on him to teach street safety lessons - a rather ironic point, given the hazards squirrels themselves face on busy pavement. There's even a Tufty Club on Facebook.

So look to the squirrels for answers on everything from safe street crossings to protecting your credit rating. Squirrels can be convincing spokescritters because they never lie, they get to the point quickly and, of course, if there's a tough nut to crack, you're going to want them - and their teeth - in your corner.

Sorrow

2010-06-04T12:17:00.007-04:00

To love animals means you will sometimes grieve even for the ones you may never know, the ones you have never held or raised but nonetheless care deeply about.You will turn your head away from the roadkill on the highway; you will avert your eyes at the images of marine life and wildlife languishing near the torrent of oil bleeding its way into the Gulf of Mexico. The pain of acknowledgement is too great.

So it is with our grief over Yoda.

This tiny squirrel was rescued in the Czech Republic, and her caretakers quickly sized up her many infirmities: mental dullness, poor swallowing reflex and no dental growth which, at her age of more than 6 weeks, should have been fully developed. Yoda had serious physical and mental disabilities but was not handicapped by any lack of love for her. The rehabilitators at the rescue station where she had been taken were committed to giving her a good life for as long as she remained on this Earth.

A Facebook posting announced Yoda's passing earlier today, and included photos of the tiny, innocent little one. People from around the Czech Republic, and even here in the U.S., from New York to Florida and beyond, had followed her saga, which opened the eyes of the rehabilitators there to the fact that even wild animals, such as squirrels, can be born with such conditions as Down syndrome.

Yoda's story nested in our hearts, and concern for her made friends out of strangers.

She was a brief wisp of life on this planet. It was not her fate to ever leave footprints in the trees. No doubt, then, her greater imprint remains within each of us who cared for her - either by ministering to her needs in person, or wishing her well from afar.

Nothing can take that away.

A holiday by any other name

2010-05-31T15:00:00.002-04:00

In Brevard, N.C., WSQL radio is broadcasting the news that most of us already know: That Memorial Day - this past weekend's holiday - is also known by another name.

Decoration Day? True. That's what this occasion for military honor was once called, in fact. But in North Carolina, the focus is on the white, when it comes to the red, white and blue. And the stars among the stripes are the real stars of the show: the state's white squirrels.

Memorial Day marks the 7th annual White Squirrel Festival, a celebration of all things related to the beloved pale rodentia.

Granted, it's not a particularly military theme. The most combative encounters are the 5K and 10K foot races, a white squirrel dance-off (featuring two-footed hoofers) and a box car derby. Not the stuff of which patriotism is crafted, for sure.

But as a celebration of one community's natural resources, and a reminder to treasure those things that make a town, a community, a state unique in its own right, it is a fitting reminder at the start of this season of outdoor living.

Adagio is free

2010-05-20T15:46:00.006-04:00

Perhaps if he had been named Allegro, his departure might have been easier. But from the very start, he was called Adagio, connoting music that is slow in tempo, easygoing and not necessarily quick to action.

It suited him: As a juvenile squirrel coming into my care last year, he was shy, slow to adjust, often afraid. Buddying him up with other juveniles was supposed to give him courage but instead it pushed him further behind his little protective wall.

Adagio spent the winter with two squirrels - a male and female - who got their freedom only weeks ago, after spending a long winter here, sheltered from a barren world of leafless trees largely inhospitable to the unindoctrinated squirrel. Adagio elected not to travel with his cagemates that day; he retreated, slow and steadfast, to his nestbox where he hunkered down, embracing his solitary stance against the outside world.

He would not be moved.

Today, when Adagio went free, he did it on his own terms. But his departure from the cage was accomplished only through the removal his nestbox itself - with him safely inside. He could not be enticed to go on his own. At least, not yet.

By the time the door hatch finally opened, we had carried his box deep into the woods. Still, he clung to that last piece of artificial shelter, the wooden box he'd called home for two seasons of his life. And once again, he would not be moved. He was listening to his own tempo, deaf to any other's.

Then, as if a cannon had propelled him, he shot out - and into relative obscurity. He left the life behind him - the life of wooden nestboxes and of captivity - making his final appearance to human eyes as only a blur of gray against a deep green background.

His physical pace, at last, had quickened to match that of his heart. And he followed it, without once looking back.

Let's try the Squirrel Standard!

2010-05-11T10:42:00.008-04:00

In some parts of the world, squirrels are letting people shop 'til they drop.

Forget the face of Jefferson or Lincoln on any currency: In Belarus, the paper bank notes valued at 50 kapeek (the equivalent of $1.65 American dollars) feature a bright-eyed Eurasian red squirrel printed on one side.
The same glorious ear-tufted creature also appears, in a raised image, on the striking silver coin of that nation, worth 20 rubles (or about 66 cents.)
In the Republic of Moldova, a silver coin also features another nicely sculpted squirrel.
A similar images appears on a smallish, now-out-of-production coin minted in Norway in bronze between 1958 and 1972, served as the equivalent of the American penny. The coin is so attractive, some craftsmen have gathered it up and resold it, incorporating it into cufflinks and earrings.

Squirrels have almost always had great value as tools for commerce. But gone, (we hope) is the medieval practice of using squirrel pelts as currency. Paper money and coin is a bit more civilized, not to mention humane.

But let's take things a step further: What if the world's markets were based on the squirrel standard instead of gold or some other commodity? Would there still be a horrendous monetary crisis in Greece, or in other European nations?

Would the United States - so rich with its eastern grey squirrels, 13-lined ground squirrels, chipmunks, Richardson's ground squirrels, Mohave ground squirrels, red squirrels, Columbian ground squirrels, northern and southern flying squirrels, ever feel the pain of overwhelming debt again? Would financial markets ever know crisis? The U.S. has clearly cornered the market on rodent resources.

In theory, the squirrel standard is infallible, as reliable as a stored acorn, as solid as an oak.

So let's reinvent our world monetary systems. Squirrels needn't be the images on our currency but perhaps they can be the basis of our financial infrastructure. Let the U.S. Treasury and the Mint toss away all those ridiculous dollar bills, coins and even that silly gold bullion in Fort Knox and let's bank instead on the value of our squirrels. Let's surrender our money and take stock in the natural value of the natural world.

Europe has its euro. Let the rest of the world enjoy the Squirro.
Hey, anybody got change for a chipmunk?

Do you feel like a million?

2010-05-10T00:29:00.003-04:00

Sweet!!

There's nothing like winning a sweet million dollars except perhaps the New York State Lottery's current campaign known as Sweet Million. The clever bit of marketing for this particular game of chance is made all the sweeter through a website featuring creatures that are both ultra-fuzzy and ultra-cute.

Presumably, this makes the visitor feel ultra-lucky.

Well, maybe so: The lineup includes a matched pair of animated eastern gray squirrels wearing tall white chef's hats, holding a tiny exercise trampoline upon which a bouncing, beribboned baby chick repeatedly becomes airborne.

The chick, presumably, already feels ultra-lucky because the squirrels don't pull the trampoline out from under him.

Like winning the lottery itself, this scenario (called a "Sweetscape") is the stuff of dreams. And visitors to the website don't have to dream too hard to create personalized sweetscapes of their own, such as this one, called "Caryn Eve's Sweetscape."

Ethereal, dreamlike, cloud-speckled and fluffy, it's a landscape that is nothing short of heavenly. The bigger question here is: Is it lucky?

Squirrels are known to be hoarders, which means if any of them have made their millions, they've done so through honest hard work and, of course, their legendary savings.
That is, until now.
Now, in the New York State campaign, squirrels are seen as being a part of the lottery sweetscape too.
Am I more likely to gamble, to take a chance on my sweet million, because New York State has gotten squirrels into the game?

You can bet on it.

Goodbye is just the beginning

2010-05-03T22:43:00.006-04:00

And now it is time to say goodbye.

Goodbye to the two male squirrels and the female who shared our attention, our property and our lives since last autumn when they arrived here as orphaned babies.

The trees have sent out their calling cards - big green leafy ones that dangle invitingly from the branches.

This season belongs to them. The woods are echoing quietly with the sounds of the tiny feet whose generations have gone there in all the seasons before theirs.

Goodbye to three squirrels, three very good squirrels. Nature and circumstance had made them orphans and now nature and circumstance have made them whole again.

All they need for their completeness now is woodland. It is their birthright.

And so their day is coming. That day, weather permitting, is tomorrow.

My goodbye is just the beginning for them.
I will not see them again in this lifetime.
I can only wish them, on this second time around, the best that nature and circumstance have to offer them all.

One squirrel's misplaced leap

2010-04-26T14:56:00.011-04:00

No squirrel is likely to argue with this: If you're already out on a limb and looking to jump, don't leap until you're certain the next branch will hold you.

So it was with the blog post of April 9 for "Grey and Red, A Squirrel Journal." Out on a limb is precisely the spot where we were when we sat down to declare the Prince of Wales, Prince Charles himself, as a man for all squirrels. The praise here practically constituted a coronation.

It might have paid to look a bit further. The branch to which we were leaping was not quite right. Charles is a man for red squirrels - all red squirrels, the beloved natives of his land - but God save the greys. In Charles' eyes the interloper greys are persona (or rodenta) non grata, as fellow blogger, the aptly named Lone Grey Squirrel, wasted no time in pointing out.

In a June 9, 2009 post on his own blog, Realm of the Lone Grey Squirrel, he takes Charles to task, and rightly so. The prince, it seems, has shown neither decency nor humanity in dealing with the greys brought to the UK from overseas.

In short, Charles wants them exterminated simply for the crime of living and breathing on British soil, a land they did not migrate to of their own accord. In likening Charles' not-so-modest proposal to ethnic cleansing, my colleague Lone Grey Squirrel is right on point.

History has long recorded royalty's desire to wage blood-soaked wars to protect a nation from invaders, but these are not savage warriors possessed of bushy tails and spears. The eastern gray squirrel is a victim too.

Shame on the royal family for showing no compassion for the displaced. Shame on Charles for his declaration of war in 2009. It is a fine attribute to care for and protect one's own, but an even higher calling to help those living in a strange land, with nowhere to hide.

Loyal to the death

2010-04-26T00:52:00.002-04:00

This is a very painful video to watch.
And yet I couldn't take my eyes off it.
I will never forget the image of this squirrel, hovering protectively over the body of a second squirrel. I am guessing, from the location of the body, the first animal had been struck by a car and killed. But those are not the details that matter.

The surviving squirrel fiercely protects what is left of the other squirrel. Could this be maternal instinct that did not die with her offspring? Could this be something else perhaps?

In case anyone ever has any doubts about the emotional intelligence that thrives within these tiny bodies, watch this video. Then watch it again.

A prince of a guy

2010-04-09T15:13:00.004-04:00

Can it be that the Prince of Wales is really the Prince of Squirrels?

It's no secret that Prince Charles is an open advocate of the imperiled native red squirrel, and he has referred to the tiny rodent as "this precious little animal," an argument it would be hard to challenge him on.

It is also no secret that he is a major player in the UK's Red Squirrel Survival Trust, which seeks to protect the nation's reds.

But the Prince obviously considers newspaper inquiries about his advocacy to be, well, something of a royal pain. A recent request by the Times newspaper in London, wanting to know more about Charles' lobbying on behalf of an ecologically (and squirrel-logically) friendly property developer was rebuffed by authorities, which called such information "a state secret."

Secret Squirrel, anyone?

Though love of squirrels should never be classified information, when love and politics mix, the rules apparently change - at least in government's eyes.

Freedom of the press is, of course, as precious as the freedom of squirrels to dance in the trees, so let's hope members of the press and members of government can sort this one out.

In the meantime, it is good to know that the Prince holds squirrels dear, and that in the kingdom of his heart, they are truly the reigning species.

A squirrel's best friend

2010-04-01T22:28:00.002-04:00

Her owners call the 4-year-old North Carolina poodle Pixie.

But three baby squirrels called her "momma," at least for a while. The mother dog had just finished weaning her own puppies when her milk became precious, life-saving elixir to the three infant squirrels displaced by a felled tree in the homeowner's yard.

The Daily Reflector newspaper carried this story, and with it, some photos of the mother dog and her little adopted youngsters.

When it came time for the babies to move on to care with a licensed rehabilitator, Pixie went through some maternal loss, or so the story says. Her owners are reportedly helping her overcome some of the sadness of no longer nursing young ones.

As for the three babies, they have their own challenges that lie ahead. Two seem to be faring well but the third appears to have difficulty processing and retaining food. There likely will be no followup in the newspaper to give details of the babies' fates, but one can only hope that their time with this generous and loving mother dog will have given them all strength - especially the weakest one - to go forward in life when the time comes.

The Squirrelosphere

2010-03-23T13:34:00.003-04:00

It's spring and suddenly everyone wants to know about squirrels. Squirrels, and questions about squirrels, are everywhere:

Are there babies?
Were many displaced by the big storm in the northeast?
Do squirrels vocalize?

Yes. Yes. And yes.

Something about the nature of the squirrel - the personality, the expressive face and eyes, the graceful, balanced acrobatics - inspires observation and ultimately, questions. For many, something about the nature of the squirrel also inspires a desire to intervene and help, particularly those for whom the graceful dance into life has been interrupted.

And so spring is the season of the Wildlife Rehabilitator as well, and is often to wildlife caretakers what Christmas is to the retail sector - or what Fourth of July is to the fireworks industry - absent the seven-figure profits, and occasionally too absent the blockbuster celebrations. Sadly, rebirth and birth carries a potential for tragedy as well as triumph. Under the best of circumstances, rehabilitators do their best to increase the odds so triumph trumps adversity.

It is a big Squirrelosphere out there. The squirrels are everywhere. Let's all keep our eyes open.

The ACORNan O'Brien Show?

2010-02-25T10:17:00.005-05:00

You know you've got to be desperate when you invite squirrels to get into your act just to save your career.

Conan O'Brien is nothing if not desperate. He's not only employing squirrels lately, he's not even getting their consent, much less letting them unionize. And now he's tweeting about it on Twitter.

The late-night host has joined Twitter and his most recent post indicates he "interviewed a squirrel" in his backyard and then cut to a commercial. (My best guess is that it wasn't even a commercial for Blue Diamond almonds or an early preview of "The Nutcracker.")

I'm sure the squirrel had much more interesting things to say than O'Brien could ever spout. Hey Conan, just because you don't speak the language, don't deny the little fellow his 15 minutes of fame.

OK, now for a disclaimer: I don't watch TV, much less late-night TV. I find sleep so much more interesting than any quip an overpaid guy in a suit could spew at me while I do battle trying to resist the midnight Arms of Morpheus. And I know Conan's broadcast career hasn't exactly been enjoying a banner year. A lot of folks would love to catch him in a Hav-A-Hart trap and ditch him back in NBC's woods, assuming the network has any.

But here's a thought: Let Conan really put a squirrel on his show - and give that squirrel more than a few seconds' worth of idle chattering time - let him sit on the couch throughout the whole nighttime gig - and you might just make me a convert.

I might just stay up and tune in. This could have the greatest potential since "Rocky and Bullwinkle."

Not amused

2010-02-18T23:46:00.006-05:00

At first, when the news story about Britain's amusement park squirrel went viral, it seemed a clear-cut case of "Squirrels Just Wanna Have Fun." After all, a squirrel determined to hitch a ride on a roller-coaster seems like a natural contender for News of the Odd.

Except when you look at the photos, and look harder at the situation, it isn't quite so funny.

Squirrels are nature's own athletes, and every branch is their roller coaster, every shrub their bumper-car ride, every birdfeeder or high wire their amusement-park adventure.

That said, squirrels need humans' roller-coasters like squirrels need humans: They don't. Not unless they are very ill or injured. And if you look at any photos of this squirrel, Sonic (as this unfortunate creature was nicknamed) does not appear to be a particularly healthy eastern grey. His eyes are sunken and his fur lacks a healthy sheen. If he was stealing food from workers at the park, as reports indicated, you can also be sure this is a young squirrel starved for food, and likely seeking attention as much as handouts.

"Alton Towers Bans Daredevil Squirrel from Roller Coaster Ride," screams the headline above the article in The Mail. "Squirrel Banned from Riding Rollercoaster," is the spin given in the Telegraph. This is the same British theme park that features a ride called Squirrel Nutty, in which thrill-seekers ride along an elevated rail in a small car shaped like an acorn. This little squirrel, however, chose to make his appearance on the Sonic Spinball.

All those news reports were supposed to be cute but while everyone was busy making light of the situation, no one really looked hard enough to see what was really going on. Young wild animals such as this one do not come this close to humans unless there's a reason. And it's not a happy one. Certainly not a funny one.

It is several days since these articles first appeared online and in print.
I have to wonder if Sonic is even still alive.
I wish more people had been on the lookout for the animal's welfare instead of just a good laugh.

Having a blast!

2010-02-09T15:55:00.007-05:00

The East Coast braces for yet another major download of snow - 10 inches alone expected in New York, with additional frozen blitz expected to slam an already wounded Washington, D.C., area.

But let's take comfort in the fact that squirrels - most of them, anyway - are going to be ok. That was the reassurance offered by a Washington Post article a couple of days ago after that city started to emerge from near-suffocation by this record-breaking blanket.

The snow will blast many of us - and we are worried about ourselves as well as the local wildlife - but squirrels are, after all, hardy. They can hunker down, nibble on the snacks they have put away in their nests, or just sleep until the Big Melt.

That's a good thing.

And yet let humans try that and they're called slackers and slugs. Who stores almonds in the cushions of their couch, or broccoli bits beneath the throw pillows? Who sleeps well past the noon hour? Squirrels - and they get away with it. They don't need to wake up and shovel, or summon a plow, in order to get to work. When they wake up (if they choose to wake up, that is), they're already on the job!

Then there's this squirrel.

Captured just the other day by the well-trained lens of a friend in Pennsylvania, this ambitious squirrel is actually in the middle of doing something most weary motorists would not attempt: Commuting to work. The squirrel seems to have little need of a snow plow or a tow truck. Or, for that matter, even two pairs of skis. (Click here for the entire sequence of pictures.)

So as half the nation readies for yet another blustery winter assault, and as Chicago, Minneapolis and other parts of the U.S. Midwest take stock of the precipitation that has already fallen, you can't help but be just a little bit jealous. It's blowing and snowing out there, and the squirrels are having a blast!

The Honda Acorn???

2010-02-07T01:17:00.007-05:00

This squirrel's funky. He rocks to a song from Kool and the Gang. He totes an oversized, disco-style acorn. And he's into Hondas - and also, it seems, this year's Super Bowl, where he'll be seen during a commercial break.

Take a look at this latest ad from Honda, which features the stylized, animated squirrel boogeying to the beat as a way of introducing the carmaker's new 4-wheel-drive Crosstour.

That's an Accord, by the way, not an Acorn. During a creative team conference at the ad agency, the squirrel probably lost the debate and with it, the naming rights.

Now, what would a Super Bowl game be without at least one squirrel commercial? There was the famous "running of the squirrels" that parodied the annual frenzy in Pamplona. And then there was the Trident chewing gum squirrel, who chomped on a dentist's nuts and no, the good doctor wasn't holding them in his hand at the time.

Super Bowl games and squirrel ads just naturally go together. And even though a football team called the Squirrels - from the Republic of Benin, in Africa - failed a few weeks ago to advance to the championships this year in its game against Egypt, it seems that the name, and the species, are been vindicated after all.

It's always a winning moment whenever squirrels get to go back to the Super Bowl. And this guy's driving there in style, in a Honda Crosstour.

Groundhogging the spotlight

2010-02-02T15:50:00.003-05:00

Punxsutawney Phil and the Stork have something in common, it seems. Both herald births.

In the stork's case, it's kind of obvious, since the legendary long-limbed bird has spent generations arriving with a delivery of diapers, baby and (before he wised up and quit smoking) a pipe in his mouth.

In the groundhog's case, it's the delivery of spring - six weeks in advance of its often warmly welcomed birth. (This year, unfortunately, there will be a bit of hard labor before this birth is through: Six more weeks of winter was the proclamation delivered Punxsy Phil who, no doubt eased some of our pain and suffering by text-messaging his findings to people's phones in case they missed him on TV.)

Well, at least three humans in my circle of friends are celebrating Groundhog Day, regardless of Phil's predictions, and it's not because they love winter. They love having a birthday today.

In fact, Hannah, who turns 10 today, doesn't even believe in the groundhog's power. Still, she says, "I think it should be a more popular holiday," she adds, no doubt because it happens to be her birthday. Hannah offers her own feet-on-the-ground weather forecast. "I also think that we will have a early spring because we don't really have that much snow now."

Marsha, who turns 33 today, is an animal lover but still thinks the holiday should be renamed. "Why don't they make my birthday a holiday, like Marsha's Birthday Day? See how good that would look on a calendar?" She's got a point. But she didn't expect to see her shadow this morning and, by all accounts, probably didn't.

Marshall, another two-legged non-groundhog pal, shares this birthday day with his wife, Sherry. And Marshall says: "You just put a damper on my birthday that I have to play second fiddle to a rodent. As long as he predicts I will have another birthday, that is enough."

Good point. Phil predicts that all birthdays today shall be happy ones - days in the spotlight and days without shadow.

Now please, he asks, can this tired groundhog just go back to sleep?

Notes from the underground

2010-01-31T23:39:00.008-05:00

No one could ever be more grounded - or perhaps UNDERgrounded - on the changing seasons than Punxsutawney Phil. He alone knows what lurks in the heart and mind of Mother Nature when he pops up from his legendary burrow on Feb. 2 and proclaims what the next six weeks will bring:

More harsh winter? Could that even be possible this year, when many of us have already overdosed on all things frigid and gloomy?

An early spring? Don't make us laugh, Phil. Please.

Still, the power does rest between him and his shadow, as the wakeful woodchuck rises from his Rip Van Winkle style nap and emerges at Gobbler's Knob in Pennsylvania, the eyes of the world upon him.

And why not?

Everyone knows: if you want a good deal on a product, go to the underground. If you want to learn a deep, dark secret about someone, look to the underground. If you want to get a dirty job done, take it to the underground. No one will be watching. Not even the groundhogs who, at this time of the year, are usually sleeping.

By now, though, it's an old story. Phil is likely weary of it too, partly because his notorious shadow is quickly eradicated by the glare of the network TV cameras surrounding this poor soul as he rubs his eyes and slowly makes his way above ground.

Ah Phil. Seems that on Groundhog's Day morning the only thing he may be able to reliably predict is six more weeks of publicity.

Squirrels go posh

2010-01-28T15:51:00.005-05:00

Who buried all those acorns around New York's Grand Central Terminal?

This time, you can't blame (or credit) some street-smart squirrel. Try the 18th century American shipping and railroad magnate, Cornelius Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt wasn't looking to cache away nutritious foods for the winter when he worked the acorn and oak leaf motif into the stonework of the Manhattan rail station's main concourse: The Vanderbilt patriarch was creating a family crest for his emerging dynasty - the very visual signature it lacked, even as its fortunes grew over the years.

What better symbol than the acorn, known for hundreds, if not millions of years, to squirrels as the repository of a bountiful, leafy and sturdy future? It simply took humans a little longer to catch on to the idea.

The Vanderbilt-Acorn connection continues to this day, as the Jean and Alexander Heard Library at his eponymous university in Nashville, Tenn., is known to publish a magazine known as the Acorn Chronicle. You can just bet the campus squirrels couldn't be happier.

It remains to be seen whether Vanderbilt was a secret sciurophile, or just had a fancy for the same things preferred by our bushytailed pals. Nonetheless, to have a member of the nation's elite class share a sweetness for the same things as squirrels is a wonderful thing indeed. It's downright egalitarian.

Cornelius - or is that ACORN-elius?? - we thank you.

For squirrel worshippers, a religious holiday

2010-01-21T01:47:00.004-05:00

Season's Greetings. Merry Squirrel Appreciation Day.

And now, time for some carols: "Joy to the Skwerl." "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claws." And, of course, let's dance "The Nutcracker" and believe that there's a special present waiting, just for you, coming all the way from the Gnawth Pole.

Oh, so maybe you're not a believer? If you cannot possibly see royalty in a face such as this one - on a furry Floridian named King Hammy - then Ye of Little Faith may be doomed to a life without Reveling in Rodents.

And revel we must in this glorious season: The gift of Squirrel Appreciation Day was bestowed upon the world some years ago by a wildlife rehabilitator from North Carolina, and once its wrapping came undone, its charms and its customs spread quickly.

Forget the offerings of frankincense and myrrh. Walnuts and filberts are where it's at. Besides, Squirrel Appreciation Day ushers in the holy season that concludes early next month with Groundhog Day.

So may your days be merry and bright, and may your day be a beautiful shade of grey.

And remember: Only 364 shopping days until Squirrel Appreciation Day 2011.

Victory, just for being squirrels

2010-01-17T19:10:00.005-05:00

Sometimes the squirrels win.
Sometimes they don't.

The national football team of the African republic of Benin, The Squirrels ("Les Ecureuils") met with an unfortunate defeat today on the playing field where they were pitted against the Super Eagles of Nigeria.

I will resist the urge to state the obvious: that even in nature, squirrels rarely have a chance in any competition against eagles. Those sharp-eyed, high-flying birds are natural predators, and their talons are formidable weapons. There are no rules of sportsmanship here; only laws of survival of the fittest and swiftest.

Still, in this heated battle of the Orange Africa Nations Cup, it would have been heartening to see the pride of Benin give local sports fans something to chatter about. Instead, Nigeria's Eagles flew to victory.

In the United Kingdom, however, squirrels gained more than just a few points on the scoreboard about a week ago: A study by the British Trust for Ornithology revealed that, despite popular fears, the presence of the non-native eastern grey squirrel in Britain has had little or no impact (and certainly minimal negative impact) on that nation's 38 or so native avian species.

In this particular duel between avians and squirrels, it appears the squirrels have energed vindicated, if not altogether victorious.

Squirrel fans are cheering this quieter, less publicized triumph for the eastern grey squirrels in the UK. The squirrels are unwelcome strangers in a strange land where they have been targeted as a vector for the deadly squirrel pox, and for driving the beloved, native reds out of their home territories.

We all needed this good news, and so did the squirrels.
Although the Squirrels of Benin missed their chance today, the eastern greys of Britain can, for now, still carry the ball.

Mother's Day

2010-01-08T02:48:00.004-05:00

The new year, 2010, apparently isn't the only thing that has just been born: A small female squirrel is coming to our back door and she is very obviously nursing.

Spring baby season is out of kilter with the calendar, or so it seems. The annual December pairings generally don't produce the year's first crop of neonates until February (late January at the earliest).

So why - if my observations are correct - does the New Year's baby for 2010 promise to sport a bushy tail?

The seasons have begun to blend together. Mid-summer, normally a hiatus of a few weeks between the spring births and the fall arrivals, is now simply a continuation of the population assembly line. Gestation periods - 45 to 48 days - haven't changed, so are squirrels mating more, and more often?

We may never know. We can only hope, at this juncture, that this little mother squirrel, and the many others who are likely out there, are tucking their little ones in safe and warm beneath their fur, safe from an otherwise hostile blanket of snow and ice.

Taking attendance

2010-01-03T00:35:00.003-05:00

Here they are, again. Mr. Tilty. The pretty notch-eared momma squirrel who sits on the doorknob. The fat little youngsters who shoot up and down the trunk of the nearest maple to the house.

As they come to our back door, one by one, they aren't really reporting for duty - just for handouts, mainly - but I am taking attendance nonetheless.

The passing of 2009 left behind so many. We have long since ceased calling their names: Miss Tillie, an indoor rehab squirrel, died. Miss Daisy, who was caged right near her, survived to be joyously released. And then there were the anonymous squirrels relegated to the euphemistic status of "roadkill." The young males. The aging mama squirrels. They had no less dignity, no less worth, than the ones whose faces we knew, the ones we'd graced with names.

With 2010 upon us, we are taking attendance again. When they come, they bring a sigh of relief. Another long year awaits us all.

I will continue to call their names and hope for the best.

The other blizzard

2009-12-19T11:48:00.009-05:00

The discovery of a rare white squirrel in Massachusetts has made news, just as another white blizzard - of a meteorological nature - is grabbing headlines up and down the East Coast.

As easterners brace for the first major snowstorm of the season - a pre-Christmas one, at that - the Whitman, Mass., area is celebrating the winter white squirrel who has been gracing their trees and their yards.

Unlike the weather, this white marvel's arrival could not have been predicted. And unlike the weather, this squirrel will not require use of shovels or snow blowers. There'll be no icing of sidewalks. No cancellation of schools, meetings, shows or appointments.

All that's needed to do right by this sudden appearance of winter white is to sit back, enjoy and throw nuts.

That's nature's holiday gift to Whitman, Mass. Who'd want to exchange a gift like that?

And a little squirrel shall lead them

2009-12-10T15:33:00.007-05:00

Our planet was not quite poised for World War II at the time Hollywood sent these squirrels out onto the nation's movie screens to carry the message of peace. The apocalyptic vision they share in this video is no less potent because of its animated format.

And forgive the twist on a biblical reference I have given the title of this post: The concept of peace on earth makes as much sense in the secular realm as the spiritual.

Please devote 8 minutes to watching this video. Yes, it's a cartoon and yes, the main characters are squirrels, but this vintage MGM video is so much more.

Even now, so many decades later, animals - real and animated - still have much to teach us.

MGM Cartoon 1939 Peace On Earth
Uploaded by shawshawshaw. - Sitcom, sketch, and standup comedy videos.

Of walnuts, acorns and mandolins

2009-12-06T21:07:00.005-05:00

The magic of the holiday season has turned a tiny squirrel into something bigger than a rock star:

There he is, at the end of this 30-second commercial for Garmin GPS devices, standing solidly center screen, moving and grooving as he strums the strings of a tiny mandolin.

He shares his brief moment of fame in this commercial spot with other fantasy creations: leprechauns running a marathon and a knight in shining armor behind the wheel of a very suburban-looking station wagon. It's not likely you'll see the likes of these on your neighborhood streets.

This squirrel has captured the imagination of almost anyone who's seen him. Who knows? He might even get fan letters along with a few Christmas cards.

And so a Garmin GPS device has helped guide us into a formerly unmapped territory this season: A landscape in which squirrels can be music makers, working their tiny instruments as if they'd become enchanted walnuts given voice with strings.

Gratitude - or attitude?

2009-11-25T14:53:00.011-05:00

On the eve of Thanksgiving, this is for the reddish-tinted mother squirrel who comes to our back door, sits on the door handle, and peers in with those beautiful, high-powered eyes of hers until our door opens and the pecan feast is dispensed, much to her liking.
This is for the little gray female squirrel nearly torn apart last autumn by a predator, who came into my care, healed slowly with the help of a determined veterinarian, and was released into the wild this past spring.
This is for "Stevie Wonder," a squirrel born with no eyes nearly 8 years ago, who can never go back to the trees, but still thrives unaware that he is somehow different.
This is for "Snaggletooth," the adult female squirrel in our yard who was a regular visitor and lived a good life despite the huge incisor growing oddly through the front of her face.

This is for "Mister Tilty," who is rotund and off balance but can scrap run like the wind - and holds his own at back-door begging with the rest of them.
And this is for the three young squirrels in the pre-release pen outdoors who are here today only because three strangers bothered to halt their lives long enough to notice at the suffering on the ground by their feet - and decided to do something about it.

This is for all of them, and all the others. Rest assured, not a single one is grateful.
And rest assured - rest very assured - that does not matter to me in the least.

The unseen

2009-11-16T18:51:00.004-05:00

The squirrels are out there. Like their other compatriots in the wild community, they are born, they grow out of infancy and many die – perhaps instantly, or perhaps after a painful lingering – without humans ever taking note.

It is no doubt a reality that most wild creatures similarly cycle through their lives without any human to bear witness. The laws of nature that govern their precious, precarious time on earth, after all, require no human consent, nor do they even require human participation.

This is legislation immutable by any vote.

And what of situations outside the laws of nature? Hit by car. Mauled by cat. Trapped in chimney or attic. Unconscious after a plummet from a tree.

Here, nature steps aside as humans transform the scene – either as cause of the distress, or as rescuer from its clutches. Suffering, no longer invisible, gains a face, possessing eyes that radiate with pain. And so rehabbers and vets do their best. So do well-meaning passers-by, who intervene at curbside with the shelter of a cardboard box, the comfort of an old T-shirt, the power of their compassion and prayers.

We cannot see them all. We cannot save them all. But for all of them, and especially for all of those we shall never know, we wish them mercy.

Almost

2009-11-12T13:37:00.004-05:00

In an animal's world of life and death, there is a fine line between almost and certain. I nearly crossed that line this morning.

My eyes caught a flash of gray too near to my tires on a rainy sidestreet and the good graces of German-made brakes, and my own still-responsive reflexes, kept me on the merciful side of that fine line. There was no impact. A life spared.

Still, I pulled over. I had to be sure by seeing the squirrel's face. I had to look into the eyes that, seconds ago, had been as terrified as mine still were.

I would see reassurance there. And I did. Briefly. All I saw after that was a scampering, spark-like, the flame of life still lit.

All I saw was the quickening of small feet followed by a tail, up the side of a stockade fence. I had not crossed that fine line, at least not in the rainy world of life and death this morning.

I exhaled and wiped my palms on my jeans, shifting back into drive. I went forward, following the squirrel's example.

Wiser than the owls

2009-11-09T22:04:00.004-05:00

The acceptable, almost universal symbol of wisdom, drawn from wildlife, has almost always been the owl. Sage and wide-eyed, this bird seems to know it all, except perhaps for its only unanswered life question, which it asks perpetually: "WHO?"

It is time, however, to retire the owl with a new symbol of sagacity.
I hereby nominate the squirrel. Squirrels are known to owls simply as their lunch.
Some of the rest of us know better:

In Miami, Fla., a former school counselor writes in an online column of The Herald, that Stubby, a mother squirrel she has been observing for some time, is a model mother. With respect to the four babies Stubby has been raising, she knows when to nurture and when to let go.

A photo of Mama Stubby shows her to be wiry and wide-eyed, a tiny creature whose physically small brain is obviously crammed full of common sense, survival strategy and yes, wisdom. She is a generous, loving spirit who wants the best for her litter, even if it comes down to tough love. And Mama Stubby, in the urban jungle that is Miami, is making a go of it.

This counselor writes eloquently of the lessons this squirrel has for humans raising youngsters under similar circumstances, lessons of freedom and of faith, of love and of vigilance. And also for getting on with her own life as a squirrel - gathering nuts for winter, preparing for the season ahead and yes, the inevitable winter breeding cycle that begins sometime after Christmas. Stubby will, you see, become a mother again in the spring if the fates are kind.

Perhaps the owl's sole unanswered question is not so perplexing after all, not on issue of wisdom. The still-wise old bird may ask: "WHO?"

Who indeed? No question: Mama Stubby, and all the squirrels.

Big brother squirrel is watching

2009-11-08T02:02:00.004-05:00

The Employee of the Month, Student of the Month, Book of the Month and even the Fruit of the Month all have some pretty formidable competition these days:

It's the Squirrel of the Month, a popular and longstanding feature in a West Coast community newspaper called (what else?) The Acorn.

This month's honoree, whose portrait is displayed proudly, is a sweet-faced fellow who, according to the caption, is frequently seen gazing into the window of a local dentist's office. (Making his living by gnawing, of course, the squirrel would have a natural curiosity about someone who makes a living tending to the hard-working teeth of others. Perhaps he was looking for a rodentist?)

The delightful squirrel, looking in, is no doubt aware that a camera lens was looking back out at him. So the dentist was watching the squirrel watching him, and the squirrel was watching the dentist watching him.

Surveillance was never so much fun. Rodent paparazzi rejoice! What could be better?

Squirrel of the Week? Hmmmm.....

Grief casts its spell

2009-11-06T14:19:00.007-05:00

It's funny what grief can do to people, particularly when it's grief over an animal. Grief softens the hard edges of human society. Grief blurs the distance between the animal and human worlds.

Grief leaves a wanting that won't go away.

This is how a small town in Surrey, England is in mourning. A week ago the people of the town lost something rare and much-loved - a white squirrel the townsfolk had adopted and named Snowy - when, in a tragic act of fate that befalls so much wildlife, he died after being struck by a car.

So deep and sorrowful was this town's communal cry that the BBC noted it in its daily news report.

"A little light has gone out," said the local woman who arranged for the squirrel to be buried in the yard outside the local church. She said Snowy deserved a final rest with dignity. The squirrel's death, she added, "has taken some magic away from our lives."

She may be wrong about that, however: For a town to grieve as this one does for a squirrel, and for a sacred space to be reserved in a church yard for an animal who lived with such grace and beauty - and who inspired such love and loyalty - is magic too.

A spritely little light may have indeed been snuffed out by a careless driver in a small British town, but Snowy's existence, however brief, burns brightly still for all who remember and will share his story from this moment forward. And for all who may visit his grave.

The magic lives on.

Flick or treat?

2009-10-29T12:47:00.006-04:00

Halloween? What's that?

Trick or treaters are hardly a big deal to people who have little gray customers coming to their back (or front) doors 365 days a year. These are the folks accustomed to keeping a stash of squirrel goodies at the ready at the sound of hard nails on the windows, or someone body-slamming the door. (They haven't yet learned to use the doorbells, but give them time!)

So along comes this story from the Whitman College Pioneer , a student newspaper in Washington State. Goofy costumes are the campus standard for the holiday this year and apparently one fellow even dressed up as a squirrel for the annual festivities.

But goofy? Are squirrels really goofy?

I would think that the Sciurus Anti-Defamation League might take exception to that. A bushy tail is hardly an amusing physical feature! Squirrels are the architects of forests, after all, and can scale trees faster than Tarzan can. However, a steady diet of nuts and acorns might be considered odd, I suppose, to the meat-and-potatoes set. (Fillet of filberts, anyone?)

On the other hand, if you think of those who "flick or treat" with their tails and furry faces at your front door you have to have a modicum of respect. That's no costume - it's for real.

And - horror of horrors! - these guys are spookily serious. Just be glad squirrels (unlike vampires and werewolves) are not Creatures of the Night! So keep your treats handy and ... don't go outside your house alone on Oct. 31. Not unless you've got something in your pockets to keep the gobblin' goblins at bay.

Attack of the killer acorns

2009-10-03T13:25:00.008-04:00

If it is to be believed - and there is no reason to doubt it - acorns are obeying the law of gravity with amazing compliance and swiftness this year.

The result - abundant food for the squirrels, and an a-corn-u-copia of death, destruction and minor injuries for the hapless humans, auto windshields and other vulnerable entities that happen to be within vertical striking distance.

A report by earthweek.com indicates that this is the year for Acorns Gone Wild and that this is indicative of a Killer Winter to come.

By all accounts on this web site, it has already been a Killer Autumn - giving new meaning to the word "FALL" as it applies to the detritus from the branches above.

It could be worse, folks. Instead of acorns, these could be nuclear warheads. Or baby elephants. Or HumVees.

Let's be glad for nature's bounty, and for the fact that there are still enough trees to do what needs to be done to keep the planet in balance. Not to mention the squirrels.

For the next couple of weeks, carry an umbrella. Or, better still, wear a helmet.

The World According to Squirrels

2009-09-20T01:48:00.004-04:00

A new book by Alexandra Horowitz, "Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell and Know," gives humans a dog's eye view of the environment as seen - or rather, sniffed - by this most olfactory of creatures. She writes that dogs are "creatures of the nose" and that their gaze is actually a gesture accomplished via the nostril, and that the input is what shapes their world.

For squirrels, it is likely no different: A squirrel's world is populated by pinecones, nuts, predator urine and, of course, other squirrels, all striking a pose via the nose. A squirrel can sniff out a nut buried beneath a foot or so of snow, which probably would be the nasal equivalent of 70/20 vision. (Fitting the nose with eyeglasses, or noseglasses, would be a challenge however to any squirrels who are olfactorially challenged.)

See this for yourself: Throw a nut or some other goodie at a squirrel and the creature will probably continue to stare at you, even with the treat barely a half-foot away. But once the squirrel catches a whiff of what you've lobbed, all bets are off.

Clearly, this is why there is no U.S.Open tennis championship for squirrels: Tennis balls don't have any distinguishing odors to make them worth pursuing.

The same for competitive diving: Swimming pools smell only of chlorine, a scent unknown to squirrels, and so squirrels also eschew competitions such as Olympic diving (although flying squirrels would likely do quite well).

Likewise, squirrels also don't play soccer or football because, unless the object of the team's pursuit is a giant hazelnut, what's the point?

And squirrels would make awful commercial pilots. Clouds don't smell, and neither do runways. Air-traffic controllers would have a hard time guiding them in to the runway without incident.

But squirrels have better insight than they do foresight or even hindsight and for them, the environment looks so much better when it's viewed nasally. It's no surprise, then that from their own treetop worlds, they're looking down their noses at us!

You can't see the squirrel for the trees

2009-09-03T18:38:00.005-04:00

Barely 24 hours ago she had a name, a routine and a safe haven in our yard.
All that changed this morning when Miss Daisy was released into the wild - and into a life of anonymity.
She is, by all counts, just another eastern gray squirrel snuffling around in the soil, nibbling at leaves and fallen acorns, and testing the tree trunks for scalability. She is, by all counts, indistinguishable from any of the other squirrels out there in that vast mass of acreage. She is, by all counts, anonymous now as night falls around her.

She is not just any squirrel, however. She had been a victim of some kind of trauma in October of 2007 when her nearly immobilized form was found at the edge of our driveway. Whether she had fallen, was hit by a car, or had some other act befall her, we will never know. She was not completely conscious and she was terribly spastic. Her prognosis, according to the vet we consulted, was not a hope-filled one.

Indeed, her two year recovery was slow but encouraging. And everything about it led to this day, this morning, when her months of impatient snarls, her long, aggressive leaps and her obviously growing frustration at captivity led us to grant her wish.

Her leaps today took her to freedom. We had to be sure: She had to be steady enough for the treetops, balanced enough to navigate her world and strong enough to fight for her life.

When I walked out of the woods, I looked over my shoulder. I stopped a few times. And yes, an hour later, I went back to that same spot in the forest but she was no longer there. She had moved into the larger universe, invisible, anonymous and just another squirrel.

Just?
Don't bet on it.

He loves them, yeah, yeah, yeah!

2009-08-24T00:42:00.003-04:00

The Beatles may have sung, "I am the Walrus," in 1967 but now Sir Paul McCartney's got a solo act with a different mammal: a squirrel.

"High in the Clouds," the ex-Beatle's book for kids about a squirrel's search for a safe haven for critters, is taking a high leap onto movie screens. Wirral the squirrel, driven out of the only home he has known in the woods, goes in search of the fabled sanctuary, Animalia.

The songwriter who rocked the music scene through the 1960s and beyond is supposedly set to pen some of the soundtrack as well, as his popular book gets transformed into an animated action story.

Even without the McCartney songs, the book and forthcoming movie have already proven to be an anthem for animal-lovers around the globe: It's a simple little story about friendship and the right to feel safe in one's own home. That's no magical mystery tour. It's the right of wildlife everywhere.

Come to think of it, people too.

This squirrel's da Bomb!

2009-08-17T00:33:00.004-04:00

Goodwill ambassadors come in all shapes, sizes and yes, even species. And right now, a Canadian ground squirrel is proving to be the world's most effective diplomat, simply because he inserted himself into a now-notorious-on-the-Net photograph of a couple vacationing in Banff.

He upstages the happy, smiling husband and wife, and serves as a cheeky, toothy face of cheer and good will as he hogs the most in-focus portion of what is obviously a self-timed, carefully framed shot. Click here and you can see it.

Who can resist a squirrel with such an ego? He is a paparazzo's dream come true.

Now, of course, the PhotoShop jockeys of the world are going crazy with his image - taking the rambunctious rodent who crashed the vacation portrait and deliberately, digitally inserting him into photos. Through the magic of software, he is keeping company with everyone from politicians to scantily clad folks of dubious repute. It's called PhotoBombing! (Which brings us to Lesson #1: Never judge a squirrel by the company he keeps, particularly if he has been PhotoShopped!)

As the world embraces - and then replicates - his image, this little squirrel imparts humor and creativity, and has become a symbol of graceful adaptability, whether he is with royalty or roustabouts.

A small squirrel from Banff is taking over the world, one photo at a time. Put the squirrels in charge, I say, and let's keep the focus on them - with or without a digital camera.

Power (outage) to the squirrels

2009-08-09T23:37:00.006-04:00

The recent news reports read as if they might be part of some beastly crime wave:

In Walla Walla, Wash., a gnawing squirrel causes a power outage to 29 homes.

In Carbon County, Pa., a squirrel is blamed for a similar deprivation of electricity to that community.

And in Dayton, Ohio, a squirrel knocks out a transformer, wiping out utility service to a nearby Kmart and causing the store's evacuation.

When the stories come in clusters like this, as they often do, newscasters often feel obligated to nervously make jokes about "suicidal squirrels" or bushytail gang warfare.

But there's nothing funny about the loss of animal life - which is serious enough to those of us who care about the critters and their unnecessary deaths.
In this case, there is also a loss of power to people who might have a vital need for it, folks who may be disabled, elderly or just not able to function well at home with an interruption of service.

Even if utility companies don't seem to care whether gnawing animals electrocute themselves unwittingly on their power lines, they need to take another look at why all these squirrels, and perhaps other creatures, are dying. Whether they care for animals or not, they need to safeguard transformers and power lines better because electricity is the lifeblood of their customers too.

Now that's what you call real squirrel power!

Love conquers all (if you're an acorn)

2009-07-23T01:58:00.005-04:00

The way I see it (and I happened to see it twice so far), the movie, "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs," is not an animated feature designed to enchant children and get adults to chuckle.

It is not even a slick 3-D cartoon populated by an appealing array of prehistoric personalities.

"Ice Age" is a romance. Plain and simple, it is an ode to the undying affection a squirrel (even a prehistoric one, such as the protagonist Scrat) has for his acorn.

Love is lovelier, or so it seems, when this third installment of the film series introduces the conquettish Scratte. Scrappy and sultry, this long-lashed female flying squirrel quickly steals Scrat's heart - and then, quite opportunistically, his acorn too.

It is then that the passionate embrace turns into what is known in the world of professional wrestling as the Full Nelson.

Had Romeo and Juliet been squirrels, the battle between the Capulet and Montague families would have had nothing on the fur that would fly when these young lovers squared off over an acorn.

Had Greek mythology's Orpheus and Eurydice possessed bushy tails instead of flowing robes, Eurydice - daughter of Apollo and herself an oak nymph - would have been no match for the mighty kernel that springs from, and gives rise to, the mighty oak. Her grieving, newly widowed husband, Orpheus, would sooner see his late wife descend into Hades itself than to endure any sort of living hell on earth without his acorn.

And so the heart of the next generation of trees holds a special place in the heart of each and every squirrel.

Love is what you make it. And like the acorn itself it, too, can be a tough nut to crack.

The price of compassion

2009-07-13T10:03:00.007-04:00

An electronic dispatch from the China News carries a story about the tragic death of a Sri Lankan man. He died of head injuries suffered after a fall inside his well.

What makes this especially tragic is that his death was the direct result of a selfless act, an act of compassion.

The man had been cleaning his 60-foot-deep well when he saw a squirrel fall into the water from above. The squirrel had been on an overhanging branch and apparently lost either balance or footing. In what was to become an ill-fated act of concern, good-will and compassion, the man climbed back down into the well and scooped up the little squirrel, saving the animal's life.

His next act is perhaps what sealed his fate: He put the small creature, for safekeeping, into his pocket to make it easier to carry him back up. But the squirrel bit him - frightened, no doubt, by his sudden captivity. And that is when the man lost his grip and plummeted to his death.

There are no words to express how truly tragic this is. The loss of good people always diminishes life on this planet for every one of us, and this is surely the case here.

Sadder still is how the news service chose to characterize this story: It is carried under the publication's banner of "ODD NEWS."

I did not know that compassion and selflessness were considered odd nowadays, and I am sorrier still that it reduces this man's sacrifice - the ultimate sacrifice, it turns out - to nothing more than that.

Wilderness

2009-07-08T23:01:00.005-04:00

Knoelle is in the trees now. At least I hope that's where she is.

She came into our care last September, a sickly, scarred, cat-attacked juvenile squirrel, found by some caring people at the barn where I ride. And with steady veterinary care and a remarkable spirit of her own, she eventually healed.

She grew. She thrived. She began to look out the windows of the little rehab clinic where we kept her and, no doubt, a longing for the wild, the place where she was born, stirred.

Springtime came. She cracked nuts, gnawed on a variety of things in her pen, buried edible treasures where she could, and her coat - her whole body - filled out. Her identity as a wild squirrel grew more certain as her gaze grew from docile to untamed.

When I set her free in the woods early yesterday morning, a piece of my heart went with her into the anonymous mass of trees. I confess: I did not want to let her go. Not this poor sickly baby, as I still remembered her. Not this delicate, brave young animal.

But she had come such a long distance from last September's chance at cheating death. She'd grown healthy and hardy and was owed this rightful completion of her journey.

And so I carried her small cage back out of the woods - this time, empty. And Knoelle carried forward with her life - and may it always be full.

I don't suppose even in the arcane language of squirrels, the lexicon contains an equivalent of "goodbye."

Perhaps that is best.

Putting a baby squirrel upfront

2009-07-02T09:14:00.003-04:00

One of the latest videos making the rounds on the Internet is that of an ample-bosomed woman wearing a low-cut tank top - and this time, it's not in connection with the latest porn offering on the Net. The woman's face is deliberately obscured to protect her privacy: She is being questioned by police in Ohio as a potential witness to a crime.

The law enforcement angle is not, however, what is making Internet news and causing all those visitors' hits to the site. The drawing card is the appearance of a baby squirrel, popping in and out of her monumental mountain range of cleavage.

This squirrel-in-a-bra has become mother nature's answer to the jack-in-the-box.

To rehabbers, the reason behind the squirrel's mammary mansion is no secret. Women who care for wildlife and are blessed with hospitably sized bustlines often make use of these physiological nooks and crannies to keep infant wildlife warm, particularly if the baby is at an age when thermoregulation - the ability to maintain one's own body temperature - is still a challenge.

However, many rehabbers also practice a form of modesty and prudence - they may house the baby squirrel (or some other species there) but they don't let it all (and the squirrel) hang out. For one thing, it attracts attention. For another, the animal can fall out. It just isn't safe.

I cannot imagine what possessed this particular display except perhaps that the woman had no other place to leave the squirrel while she went in for interrogation.

Her heart was obviously in the right place. Unfortunately, in this instance, her squirrel was not.

When fear spreads, like a pox

2009-06-24T15:32:00.003-04:00

Red squirrels in Scotland are dying.

So says this report in the Scotsman which rightfully points a finger at the eastern grey squirrels - members of the non-native species who never asked for transport across the Atlantic but, nonetheless, are there. And with them is a lethal form of pox that, once it seizes its victim, kills over a period of weeks.

The greys are considered carriers - not victims themselves - because they appear to have some measure of immunity.

It is particularly tragic to see this small red squirrel, much loved in its native United Kingdom, immortalized by Beatrix Potter, destroyed by this highly virulent strain. It is sadder still that a distant cousin is responsible (even inadvertently) for the annihilation.

Britain's response to these awful deaths is not a much better antidote - it amounts to a different kind of pox. One called fear.

Officials have been calling for some time for the trapping, killing and otherwise wiping-out of the grey population.

There have been epidemics of human diseases in the past, ones that will go unnamed here, but these diseases too have been tied to certain populations of people, with hatred, fear, violence and other means also considered as antidotes, or measures of prevention.

Whether the violence suggested is directed at a human or an animal target it is still, unquestionably, genocide.

Can't science find a better way?

The nuisance factor

2009-06-21T10:17:00.003-04:00

Much is made, in newspaper articles and even in general discussion, about squirrels' ability to be exactly where they aren't wanted. In attics. Raiding bird-feeders. In the middle of a busy street. At the back door, begging.

It is socially acceptable, sanctioned and at times even encouraged to make them targets of our hostility or - worse. We can only feel sorry for the person who has never felt the rush of having been acknowledged, or even recognized as a sucker, by a squirrel accustomed to seeing them with a few tasty handouts in the garden or the park. These are the same people who have likely elevated Road Rage to one of the major martial arts.

Imagine for a moment, though, if we were to harness this nuisance-avoidance trait that is so uniquely human, and use it for more practical purposes: Consider, if you will, the workplace nuisance: There is the oversolicitous or overbearing boss, the unendingly chatty or curious colleague, even the phone, possessed by a perpetual motion ringtone that will not stop ringing? Imagine the consumer market, then, for some of these must-have products: A boss-sized Hav-a-Hart "humane" trap (or leg-hold trap for the seriously obnoxious). How about predator-proof work stations that throw the interloper off balance by being counterweighted (like some so-called squirrel-proof bird feeders). Imagine seeing your supervisor one moment coming over to badger you, and in an instant, seeing him or her flung across the room, airborne, and not sure why.

Let's not forget the curious colleague who has come to peck at your luncheon sandwich or salad. That's nothing a little hot pepper won't cure. (This well-touted garden remedy is presumably the last resort before folks resort to fox urine, but this alternate method doesn't lend itself readily to inclusion in a bag lunch.)

There is a world of potential in this new market. While some choose to make their money repelling squirrels, and encouraging others to do so (by purchasing their products, of course), I say: Let's go after the real nuisance culprits. They walk on two legs, and they are around us - everywhere.