I have been asked to speak at a conference regarding the number of squirrels we are seeing in our neighbourhood park. Indeed I am honoured to share my thoughts, and I trust that they are duly reflective of my human and canine friends.
What is it, exactly, that squirrels do? They seem to run about and jump up into trees. Is that it? I never see them catching a frisbee, a ball, or attempting anything that resembles marking the park with a fragrance that ignites the curiosity and memory of the other inhabitants. What is it that they do?
Yes, in my younger days I was eager to entrap a squirrel or two just to watch them react. My sister Glacier still finds this amusing. It was a great game, a pastime if you will. In fact, I recall a number of occasions when I would laugh as I saw how silly their antics were. Why did they leap into trees? What was so intriguing about the concept of up? Was it the sky that drew them higher? Was the air different up there? Did nuts taste unusual when they were further from the grass? Whatever the reason, it was beyond me. They would eventually come down, so it seemed rather pointless to climb in the first place.
Squirrels are plentiful in our urban parks. They seem to keep so very busy all the time. If we had more squirrels, would they somehow be less inclined to run about so much, doing whatever it is they are doing? Could they share in their workload? Then again, if there were fewer squirrels in our parks, would they not be required to work so hard?
It has crossed my mind that the squirrels in my park have been here for many years. Should they ever finish what it is they are doing, would they have reason to stay? I hope so. They are endearing creatures. Silly, but endearing.
I’ll ask Hank what he thinks.