Squirrels on the Loose

The other day, I got hit by a squirrel. I was walking to class in a half-awake state, absorbed in my thoughts. Suddenly, I saw a gray flash. A feisty, furry fellow charged out of the hedge and crashed into my leg. I yelled and jumped and almost landed on the squirrel underfoot. After that bold introduction, the squirrel scurried around aimlessly for a moment, probably a little dazed from the impact of my powerful calf muscles. Then it disappeared without a trace into the underbrush. Those who have never been rammed by a squirrel may be surprised at how much inertia one traveling at full speed can contain. I looked around for some good Samaritan to offer me aid and sympathy, but instead people continued to walk past, snickering as they went by, leaving me alone to form my reactions.

As my initial shock subsided, I began to contemplate the sudden awareness of my own vulnerability. Never before had I worried about small animals charging into me out of nowhere. It was simply too fanciful a concept to imagine. I assumed that they, like me, in seeking to avoid personal calamity, would try to avoid collisions with other physical objects. Now, however, I realize that others do not always think the same way that we do. After all, how many other species have the names of Homer, Plato, Aristotle, and Virgil engraved on their libraries?

Squirrels and humans live in very close proximity to one another. We see them every day, and yet we never really give them a moment's thought. But while we're rushing around immersed in our world, how many of us have ever wondered what kind of impressions we have been making on the collective squirrel psyche? On occasions such as this, we realize suddenly how little we know of them and them of us. Although they did not express their opinions publicly, it is likely that many squirrels and other small animals (such as pigeons) rejoiced quietly, now that their frustrations would be considered seriously.

Many socioeconomic factors were at play in this act of aggression. The constant necessity of dodging people, so as to avoid getting kicked or stepped on, could certainly lead to anger and frustration. So could living in a largely treeless environment when one's culture is dependent on the existence of a large concentration of trees. Getting chased by a dog or a small child can certainly have a traumatic effect on the mind of a young, impressionable squirrel. Perhaps this squirrel could not endure seeing his family suffer from the injustices of living in a society hostile to their way of life. Also, this year's acorn harvest has been particularly disappointing. All of these factors must have contributed to the squirrel's feeling that he had to make a statement, however drastic it may have been.

The important thing, however, is that we remember that this was one isolated incident orchestrated by an individual squirrel unwilling to negotiate a peaceful solution. We should not retaliate against the entire squirrel species solely because our biased, stereotyping minds conceive as all squirrels as the same. Self-righteous taunting of squirrels and destruction of squirrel habitats is simply not our way. It is also crucial that we do not allow this unprecedented act to change that for which we stand. Irrational fears should not lead to ridiculous measures such as wearing shin guards and avoiding carrying around sunflower seeds, as these would undermine the very freedom that defines us. Nevertheless, it may be smart to check the return address on our envelopes and make sure that is written with ink and not etched with a claw.

We should avoid the temptation to demonize squirrels. I know I feel a little uneasy when I see a squirrel nibbling on an acorn and staring straight at me. But we should remind ourselves not to pass judgment on all squirrels just because of the actions of an individual. Although the militant squirrels may be the ones that get our attention, many squirrels live peaceful lives and wish, just as we do, that we could all just get along.