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also online at: www.cumberlink.com/articles/2005/07/28/editorial/rich_lewis/lewis01.txt
Squirrels nice — just not in my yard By Rich Lewis, July 28, 2005
We columnists usually tell people what to think about things, but this week I need you to tell me what to think on a grave matter about which I once had no doubt, but about which I now find myself in a crisis of indecision.
Are squirrels good or bad?
I don't mean "good or bad" in the sense of moral status — like, "Billy Graham is a good person" or "Saddam is a bad person" — but "good" in the sense that I should see one and say, "Aww, how cute. I want to give it a hug," or "bad" in the sense that I should say, "Get out of here you despicable rodent."
At the moment, I see a squirrel and both reactions flash through my mind simultaneously, leaving me in a state of evaluative meltdown and adding at least a couple of points to my blood pressure.
This is also true for chipmunks, which, significantly, my wife refers to as "racing squirrels" because of their stripes.
But that's another story.
Here's a quick trip down the road that led me to this unhappy place about squirrels.
As a little kid, I was taught to love squirrels of course. They were like milk and pandas, things you were just naturally supposed to think well of. And I did.
When I was in high school, my friend and I often went to Boston Common to sit on the benches and feed the squirrels. We'd bring peanuts and popcorn and the critters would run up and take the stuff right out of our hands. Aww, how cute.
One day an old homeless guy who said his name was Mr. Hanks came over and warned us never to bring salted peanuts because the salt made the squirrels' hair fall out. Some of the squirrels did look pretty shopworn, especially around the tails. So we were extra careful after that because we didn't want to hurt our furry friends.
Because squirrels were good.
A few years later, I saw the Washington, D.C.-area's famous black squirrels, the descendants of 18 Canadian squirrels imported when Teddy Roosevelt was president, which have since taken over the town. They're gorgeous things that argue to the eyes that squirrels are good.
About that time, though, I had my first hint of doubt. I came across the well-known adage that says, "A squirrel is just a rat with a good PR man."
Hmmm. Interesting thought. But instead of thinking less of squirrels, I ended up thinking better of rats — you know, "A rat is just a squirrel with a bad PR man."
So squirrels were probably good.
Years later, after we moved to Pennsylvania, some friends bought a log house in Southhampton Township. Much to my surprise, these nature lovers were at war with the squirrels, which had invaded their attic and were eating holes in the roof, not to mention buildings messy nests and leaving food and droppings all over the place up there.
Squirrels are bad? They certainly thought so.
More years later, at my own place in Dickinson Township, the squirrels showed up one summer. They didn't move into the house (the mice already occupied that), but they meticulously stripped the pears from the pear trees and the walnuts from the walnut trees. And they've been doing that every summer ever since.
Squirrels are bad.
This year, after previously treating the yard only as their personal farmers' market, the squirrels decided to stay and raise a family. So we had baby squirrels running all over the place.
They are so darling — frolicking in the branches (while devouring all the goodies), and rolling on the ground and wrestling with each other like kittens (their ratty bellies full of my pears and nuts).
Aww, so cute. Get out of here.
Now I sit on the porch every morning and marvel as these plump bundles of energy do their charming tricks — and grit my teeth as they steal my produce, and greedily munch the contents of my bird feeders. It takes the sparrows about two weeks to eat one of those thick suet cakes. A squirrel gobbles it down in about two minutes — indifferent to the fact that I'm staring daggers at it from 20 feet away.
One day, as I watched chewed-up walnut shards rain out of the trees, I decided enough was enough and bought one of those expensive Hav-a-Heart traps.
I figured I'd catch them and take them out to the deep woods somewhere. Because squirrels are bad.
But I haven't caught any squirrels in three weeks because I put the traps out, but don't put any bait in them — because I'm not sure I really want to catch them at all. Because squirrels are good.
So you tell me: What am I supposed to think about squirrels? I'll go either way, but loving them and hating them at the same time makes my head ache.
Maybe, as a compromise, they can live at your house and come visit me on weekends. That would work.
I'll even send over a few pears and nuts.
Rich Lewis's e-mail address is: rlcolumn@comcast.net
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