The Squirrel: Friend or Foe
For a few weeks now it’s officially been Spring in the Northern Hemisphere. The whole business of Winter going “out like a lion” doesn’t seem to be true. Given the recent weather situation (ice storms in Southwestern Ontario, up to Ottawa, involving winds of 100+ km/hr in some areas, and heavy rain,) Winter does not appear to be leaving. Thousands have been left without power in southern Ontario, and in the Greater Toronto Area when the ice starts to melt, it’s forecast that the area could receive a month’s worth of rain in 12 hours worth of time. Motorists are being urged to stay in unless driving is absolutely necessary. While we are rushing about chipping ice off things, trying not to slide away as we cautiously traverse slick pathways, squirrels are dashing up and down icy trees.
I have wanted to write about squirrels for quite some time. I thought Spring would be a good time as it seems a celebration time for the furry little critters who have survived the harsh Canadian Winter. Many consider them vermin, or pests, (often for good reason); I have had squirrels squatting in my own attic. It is not pleasant and I am aware that they can wreck havoc in our homes. We had to very humanely evict them and shift them to a more suitable domicile, then bar their return to our cosy attic. I can’t say I blame them for seizing the opportunity to move in to a warm, dry, protected abode. I’m sure I’d do it to, faced with their situation. Despite their frustrating opportunistic behaviours, I have a great deal of respect (mingled with awe) as I see the way these animals live.
Side note: My composition of this blog was interrupted after paragraph 2 when the power at my place went out, and stayed out for about 18 or 19 hours.
For a long time I’ve gleaned great pleasure from my observations of squirrels. My friend once teased me that my squirrel-watching pastime was like that of her grandmother. (I’ll be honest, sometimes I do feel like an older person trapped in a younger person’s body.) Nevertheless, I love watching squirrels and marveling at them. Because they are so plentiful in this part of the world, we mostly take them for granted. They are simply always there. But have you really watched them? Have you considered that they live all year long out of doors, clad only in their little fur coats, come melting humidity or bone-chilling winter gales? What about the fact that they seem to defy gravity as they gallop up vertical surfaces?
Copyright: Audrey May Photography
I have watched baby squirrels rolling about on the grass, wrestling with each other, energetically attacking sticks. Adorable! I’ve watched squirrels enjoy siestas on a tree limb outside my window. I’ve watched them awake from their slumbers and stretch in the most unique fashion. They clamp onto the tree trunk with their hind feet, then let their bodies dangle vertically, forearms extended for what appears to be a most satisfying full-body stretch. I have wept over their little broken carcasses squashed by cars, or mangled by predators. Exeter, Ontario is a strange haven for the real but uncommon white squirrel (apparently not albino because their eyes are still dark rather than pink).
We had a “pet” squirrel (not actually true, we just liked to think of her that way) we named Ruffles, on account of both her lovely ruffled, fluffy grey fur and the fact that we were eating Ruffles® potato chips when we first saw her. One day, my sister baked a pan of gooey, delicious squares for some event she was attending and put them out on the back balcony to cool. Much to her dismay, when she went to retrieve them, Ruffles was contentedly sitting in the middle of the pan having a feeding frenzy. No doubt she felt she’d struck gold! Who can blame her? It was a pretty golden opportunity. Sadly, some time later that summer, we found a lot of grey, soft fur under a tree in the back yard, and never did see Ruffles again. Alas, I fear she met a grim fate.
I’m simply amazed by the survival skills of squirrels, and their industrious natures, always scampering around looking for food or making their nests (called dreys). I look forward to expressing my awe at them by painting a squirrel one day (an image of one, not actually chasing one down and trying to paint on its fur). I will use a reference photo my dad shot on film years ago. I hope that the spring and summer will be a fulfilling and rewarding time for these incredibly hardy
White Squirrel sleeping
