A Letter to the Eastern Gray Squirrel

What is up, squirrels?

I truly want to know because I want to be awed by you also. I want to laugh at your antics, and maybe even feed you in a park on my days off. But my aversion can’t be ignored. You manipulate my emotions with your tails and the cute way you nibble on nuts. 

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Part of me wonders if my spark of disgust is inherited. My mother has a story about being attacked by a gray squirrel, a story whose vagueness points either to trauma or indifference. One of which I am more inclined to believe than the other considering I can’t imagine being indifferent about a squirrel attack. Did her trauma imprint upon me? Probably.

There are not many animals that make a crossover from my country upbringing to my city debut; the pigeon, the rat, and even the starlings were not part of my every day. We did see seagulls, though. Against a gulf of grey clouds seagulls circled over empty parking lots like there was a glitch in their brain compasses. “Find a lake, or something, find an ocean, not Payless.” but they wouldn’t, they preferred the cement with its lonely puddles and trash. Turns out seagulls don’t need the sea. 

Raccoons were common, but we were told to keep far away from them as there had been several cases of rabies in the upstate area. Rabies I knew from Their Eyes Were Watching God and it made me think of lost love, the agony of being unrecognizable to your own heart. And they are so cute, it’s hard to not run up to them: curved-back cats. 

Squirrels, during my childhood in upstate New York were not antagonistic. They were similar to the busy race-track-backed chipmunks. The squirrel had the pompom tail and collected nuts to eat during the winter, and not much more. Country squirrels, like most other animals in the country, minded their business. They remained at a distance, eating nuts and so on. New York City, however, has two things that my childhood home did not have: less space between people, structures, and animals; and a culture of walking through these structures, close to these people, and by extension, these animals. Randomized interaction is more common than it is in the country. 

Squirrels approach during picnics and snacks in the park. On a summer afternoon in Queens one ran me out of the garden on account of its interest in my hot chocolate. Most recently, a poor squirrel fell from a tree, almost hitting me as I ran. The squirrel darted away, though I am worried. A peculiar alchemy appears to occur in the brain of the squirrel, something slightly altering their attitude to be, not only unafraid of humans, but empowered and adversarial and openly communicate their opinions, if desires and survivals are in fact opinions. These assertions I, on the one hand commend, and on the other, am threatened by. If squirrels were not so cute they would never get away with the shit they do. 

Groups of squirrels are called “scrurries” or “drays.”  

e.g. I narrowly escaped a scurry of squirrels. 

Here in New York City, we are controlled by the Eastern Gray Squirrel. They are omnivores, so, yes, they do eat meat. 

Walk under a tree and hear a sandpapery “shush” and not a chirp or squwak, know it’s not a bird, but a squirrel in alarm mode. They communicate through several vocal calls like this, and an elaborate language in tale flicks. 

According to Nature Mapping Foundation in Washington, as their name suggests, the Eastern Gray Squirrels are native to the Eastern part North America. They prefer to travel through trees and so favor a continuous overstory where they are safe from predators. Predators for them are sparse in cities, so they proliferate in parks. They don’t hibernate because of generous fat reserves, and are active in various weather and temperature patterns throughout the year. 

According to Penn State University, squirrels have a high sensitivity to light and a much better sense of sight that humans can achieve. Their eyes have adapted to a slightly upward position in order to look out for their, most prevalent, aerial predators. 

As much as I dislike squirrels, what better beauty is there than the beauty of a creature who cohabitates with clear boundaries and desires? I am never uncertain about the inclinations of a squirrel, and I hope to glean a bit of wisdom from these desires and assertions, staying true to yourself unquietly could prove and validate desires we may all have. It may be shrill, it may be downright ridiculous. But if survival is a function than boundaries must be heard, so here is to you, Eastern Gray Squirrel. I forgive you for your transgressions against my mother and I believe in your tenacity. Just please don’t take my hot chocolate!