Feeling a Little Squirrely

I took a nice little walk around my neighborhood last week.

Here in California, a winter afternoon gets up to the “frigid” lower 60s, even in the middle of January. So, with the sun out, my work done for the day, and the fact that I was feeling a little squirrely having been holed up in my house for most of the day, I went out for a little jaunt.

I headed down the usual route, taking the simple circuitous route around my entire neighborhood, and noted the deep blue hue of our winter sky. Birds chattered, neighbors waved hello, and our ubiquitous squirrels ran the neighborhood like the little hoodlums that they are.

As I walked the loop, I watched a squirrel cross from one side of the sidewalk, stop in the middle of my neighborhood road, and stand on his hind legs—just like in a funny insurance commercial, I had seen years ago. 

I would venture to say most people think squirrels are on the annoying side of things. While they’re cute and small and scurry around the trees like ants on a picnic, there’s an element to them that can be frustrating.

Take this incident on the road in my neighborhood, for example. While it’s true that there were no oncoming cars, my street was quiet, and it had been the most opportune time to cross the road, it was still a tad exciting to watch a squirrel cross the road knowing full well they like to fidget and play chicken with every passing car.

This could have been the squirrel's last day. Or, it could have been like most days of its life, and one of fun frivolity, giving gest at every passing car, knowing we humans care about their lives just enough to swerve away from them as we drive by, lest we flatten them.

It’s also no secret, at least in my neighborhood, that we have hundreds of these squirrels. To the point that if one went missing, we probably wouldn’t notice. We’re so used to having them everywhere, over every tree, and on every roof, that we almost don’t see them anymore.

And yet surely, if I thought about it, I would classify these little animals as built-in pets. They run free in my backyard, traipsing across the back fence at record speed, playing with each other at a game of chase - a hundred times a day - with their friends, and even drinking water from my pool.

And don’t get me started on their food binges. With lime, orange, mandarin, peach, pear, and apple trees all within my yard and my neighbors’ yards, they gorge themselves on our fruit year-round, leaving the rinds behind as the only evidence of their feasting. 

These built-in pets (or is it pests) are just assumed to be a part of every household, and we share these pets with our neighbors, even if we don’t think of them as pets because they’re so common and are never missing from our daily view.

Our squirrels rarely go missing. In fact, our prodigious squirrels are hardy. So much so that even our natural wildlife – such as mountain lions and coyotes – take no pleasure in hunting these little ones down. Essentially, our squirrels have no predators and because of that have populated our neighborhood with seemingly a thousand of their fine western gray squirrel relatives.

Regardless of their lack of predators, this day I watched one frolic into the street, look at me, think about crossing to the other side, and then go for it. I saw him lean back and think about the meaning of life in the middle of the road. But, I looked away as soon as he headed toward the house in front of him. If you’ve seen one squirrel, you’ve seen them all.

Or so I thought. 

Most likely, he was headed to the grapefruit tree I just walked past. Or perhaps a cousin was calling him for a rousing game of hide and seek. Whatever his reason for crossing, I forgot about the little imp, glad I didn’t have to witness his fatal demise from a passing car, and went on my way until I noticed him headed for a sunny driveway. 

He scampered up the drive, headed straight for a corner where the garage door butted up against a support beam. He began to sniff the corner. For a moment, he had a distinct dog-like appearance. What was he sniffing? Squirrels have decent noses. Or so it’s implied. It’s why my garden has constant digging and re-digging of holes as my backyard squirrels try to find the nuts they buried in the fall.

This garage faced the southwest and the sun was setting in that direction in a few hours. Most of the warmth of the day radiated at that spot. The squirrel continued to sniff out the corner as if he was ensuring its safety. And then, in dismay, I watched him burrow up against the corner and garage door, tuck his legs in, and pull his tail over his eyes.

The squirrel was taking a nap. In the sun. In front of a garage.

I’d never seen this activity before and it made me rethink squirrels' appeal. Suddenly, my previous view of the raucous annoying creatures had shifted. These little things were adorable! Especially when there was a fluffy tail over their eyes. 

I snapped a photo of him on my phone (it was too far away and blurry, otherwise I would show it here) and shook my head. Though still annoying, I could let go of my resentment over them eating the fruit off my trees. How could I be upset at these cute built-in pets that cavorted all over the neighborhood?

After that walk, I sat outside in the sun in my backyard-- the same sun that the squirrel was resting in, too, at the same time. I’d learned two things on that walk: One, I’d been ignorant about squirrels my whole life, and two: when life is busy, slow down.

Take a lesson from the squirrels (a nut of wisdom, if you will): settle down in the sun and take a nap.

-Heather