Squirrely

I have several types of trees around my house; a red maple, a couple of white oaks, and an enormous black walnut. The black walnut (Juglans nigra) has come to play a bigger part in my day-to-day affairs than perhaps any other single tree I’ve ever been around. 

(Black Walnut Info)

This time of year, early fall, while the leaves are turning, the walnuts begin to drop from the tree. Unfortunately, my parking space is right underneath. It’s a good thing my car is elderly and worth basically less than a dinner for two, because over the last couple of years so many walnuts have dropped on it that the roof and hood now have the rough contours of a golf ball. On one memorable occasion I had inadvertently set the car alarm and in the middle of the night a walnut landed on the vehicle with enough force that it set off the klaxon and light show. My neighbors were, quite naturally, miffed. People have said black walnuts are worth money and I should collect them as they fall, but I don’t have the patience for that. Plus, the nuts attract a very entertaining group of squirrels.

Eastern gray squirrels (Sciurus carolinensis) look like what most of us probably imagine when we think of squirrels – gray fur, white belly, bushy tail, grabby little hands, and a somewhat methy demeanor. Many people around the country think gray squirrels are blighted nuisances, because of their penchant for devouring the seed in birdfeeders, stripping the bark off trees, and invading attics and crawl spaces, where they set about crapping all over everything while making a new batch of baby squirrels every six months or so. Like nearly all other rodents, gray squirrels are quite fecund, producing on average anywhere from three to nine kits per litter.

(Awwwwwwww...)

A number of years ago my neighbors across the street left one of their kitchen windows open a crack when they went off to work. When they got home, it was immediately obvious that one or more furry intruders had thrown a hootenanny in the kitchen. Cereal boxes had been clawed open and their contents flung about like confetti; canisters had been opened; the lacy curtains over the window were torn up; and the room was positively awash in squirrel shit. The animal or animals had gnawed a whole in the window screen and wriggled inside through a gap maybe two inches wide.

My neighbors, young junior-executive types, were perfectly friendly and pleasant people; political moderates who drove energy-efficient cars and spent a lot of their free time hiking and birding. Having their kitchen ransacked and befouled by rodents, though, effectively erased their equanimity. They wanted those squirrels dead.

The female member of the household wanted to create a minefield of lethal traps around the house, while the male member was of the opinion that a .410 shotgun loaded with birdshot would be both more expedient and more satisfying. Cooler heads did eventually prevail and my neighbors did not plant a minefield or go on a shooting spree. Instead, they opted for setting live traps and planned to turn the squirrels lose out in the country. The funny thing is that they didn’t capture a single squirrel, despite the fact that the little beasts ran rampant through our neighborhood. I ended up imagining two grinning squirrels perched on a tree limb having a good old chuckle over the ridiculous foibles of humankind.

(Foiled Again)

Let me just say before continuing that I was wholeheartedly against the more drastic policies my neighbors wanted to exact upon the area’s squirrels. I really dig the tiny animals. They’re thoroughly adorable, of course; radiating cuteness to a degree reminiscent of puppies and viral YouTube babies. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of holding a squirrel, or of having one crawl around on your head, then you know. Squirrels are really smart, too, smart and clever, with sophisticated problem-solving abilities. Plus, they seem to approach interactions with humans and other animals with a delightful brand of cheekiness.  

The squirrels attracted to my yard by the promise of a black walnut feast have proven to be far more entertaining than destructive. As the weather cools they scamper seemingly at random through the grass, walnuts gripped in their teeth. They bury the nuts here and there taking advantage, I think, of the loose earth provided by one or more moles at large beneath the turf.

(Them Nuts)

Cashing nuts for the winter is a furtive activity for one very good reason. Eastern gray squirrels are unabashed thieves. Over the course of the past week or 10 days I have watched what I think are two individual squirrels. One would arrive on the scene, toting a walnut, bounce to a spot in the yard, have a look around for prying eyes, and begin pawing madly at the ground. Once it had an acceptable cavity, it would shove the walnut into it, and frenetically backfill the hole. At which point it would dash away, presumably to repeat the process with a new nut.

Within moments of the first squirrel’s departure, a second squirrel would come hopping into view, make a beeline for the location of the newly buried nut, dig it up, and run away with it. I’ve watched this three times over the last week or 10 days. From my vantage point it’s difficult to differentiate between squirrels, so I guess the possibility exists that the second squirrel is actually the first squirrel that has returned for some reason to put its nut in a different location. But I don’t think so.

I did a little poking around through my library and found that yes Eastern gray squirrels routinely swipe cached food away from their brethren. Moreover, it appears to be an age thing, with older and ostensibly wiser squirrels stealing food from the younger less experienced models. Naturalists have observed a single squirrel while it spent the entire day sneaking along behind another squirrel purloining its goods. Every so often the party of the first part witnesses the misdeed performed by the party of the second part, and reacts with rancor. Not uncommonly a chase ensues.

(Biding Its Time)

At this very moment as I write, I’m watching a squirrel skip energetically across my lawn, evidently in search of a place to put the walnut it is toting. It’ll be interesting to see whether or not it is able to successfully hide its treasure without it then getting nicked.

It seems to me that our tradition of automatically labeling squirrels in the negative keeps us from really understanding the diminutive rodents. Yes, squirrels can engage in behaviors that drive us nuts (heh…), but they can also be a source of splendid, free entertainment.