Lessons I Learned From A Squirrel

Our fenced yard is a safe haven for all manner of birds, bees, toads, snakes, butterflies, rabbits, chipmunks, the occasional cat, and numerous squirrels. Each critter has its own charm and varying level of annoyance, but the squirrel is a regular one-man show. His daily performances are entertaining to say the least.

The little dude captured in the photo is one busy bushy-tailed rodent. He is always in a hurry, doesn’t like when I open the door as he scampers past, and is regrettably fond of the tulip bulbs we planted last October. He has taught me about being industrious and resourceful. I have witnessed this assiduous creature snacking on quite a few of these bulbs, but I now suspect he transplanted more than a few others. The spots where tulips should not be sprouting are vibrantly growing while the areas I planted and marked with golf tees are void of any flowers. Apparently he is an ambitious landscape architect, floral designer, and gardening visionary. The lesson here is to multitask, learn new skills, remain curious, and embrace a challenge.

Tenacity sums up this squirrel’s persistent and dogged attempts to dine along with the birds who frequent my neighbor’s feeder. She has somehow figured out the secret to impenetrability, preventing Mr. Squirrel from actually pilfering any of the seed. Besides using a special mesh, she includes hot pepper flakes mixed in with the food, which reportedly are displeasing to the squirrel’s palate but do not bother the birds at all. Undaunted by these safeguards, I have seen him actually dangling from the enclosure meant to nourish his feathered back yard mates. He may very well figure out a way to get into that feeder and work his way around the cayenne. I would not bet against him. His persistence offers a clinic in determination.

Squirrels are incredibly intelligent and cagey. I watched this critter dig a hole and appear to bury an acorn, covering the hole with dirt and mulch, only to be seen moments later nibbling happily on said acorn while sitting on one of our fence posts. I think he was performing a diversionary tactic to fake out the other squirrels who also frequent the property. His lesson was about using deception and shrewdness to keep your possessions safe and your competition at bay without actually causing any physical harm.

The most entertaining aspect of the squirrel is his acrobatic athleticism. He can scale the bark of a tree, leap to a branch, swing to another branch, and glide to the top of our fence from which he scurries into someone else’s yard. This is sometimes a do-si-dos activity carried out in tandem with companion squirrels. Whether it’s simply friendly and playful interaction, aggressive competition for food, or downright territorial warfare, I marvel at the sheer agility of this feisty varmint. This is his tutorial on remaining active. Move it or lose it.

Calling someone squirrelly is generally not a compliment since it implies that person is unbalanced, bonkers, looney, and basically nuts. I see this characteristic in an actual squirrel as being playful, mischievous, fun-loving, and frolicsome. It illustrates the importance of cherishing and retaining our childlike lightheartedness and trying not to take ourselves or others too seriously.

Our resident squirrel is fearless, active, inquisitive, wily, animated, and quite cute. He is also, unwittingly, a fairly adept teacher of some of life’s most important lessons. I just hope this rascal doesn’t eat my tomatoes.

Our squirrel standing at attention while he contemplates his next move.