No, We Can't Just Get Along... Why I Hate Squirrels

I did not start out hating squirrels. I thought they were cute. I thought they were likable. My pap Cordell taught me to feed them and my aunt even had one in her yard that was so friendly he would come up to the back window and eat out of their hands. His name was Pete, if I recall, and he was cute and lovable (but not domesticated as a pet - don't worry).

It was a kinder, gentler time when human and squirrel lived together in peace. I collected acorns for my furry tailed friends in the fall. We hung autumn decorations on our windows, including adorable little anthropomorphic squirrels in their pilgrim hats. Life was good.

Then, sometime during graduate school it all changed. I'm tempted to say its just the southern squirrels, raised south of the Mason-Dixon, struggling to survive in the vast megalopolis. But alas, the trouble started in Hershey, Pennsylvania, of all places. 

Act I: All's (Not) Well That Ends Well. My first new car (a 1993 Saturn SL1) sat helplessly one night, minding its own business, when it was attacked by a squirrel with a taste for plastic. The squirrel ate through the wiring harness, rendering my airbag non-functional. I drove from Hershey to Maryland worrying over the state of my beloved Saturn, unaware of what had caused the trouble. $700+ and a rental car later, the car was repaired, but my trust in my furry friends was not. I felt betrayed. I felt violated. I felt scared.

Act II: (My) Love's Labor's Lost. My poor husband was laboring over the laundry one Sunday afternoon, as is the typical Appel Household tradition. I heard him mumbling about how the laundry was backing up because the dryer was so slow. He cleaned the lint filter. He adjusted the heat setting. He cursed at the foul smell and stains he found on the laundry. Then he reached into the dryer to see where that stench was originating and he found a large stash of acorns, roasting in our dryer vent. He pulled at them. He filled bags. He drug more out. We thought it would never end. Our laundry was dirty, some of it stained permanently, and we were responsible for the starving squirrel children in Glen Burnie. This was a bad bad thing.

Act III: As You Like It? Time passed. My guilt over the disrupted food supply slowly melted my cold feelings toward my furry neighbors. Then I switched jobs and started interacting with the infamous College Park Squirrels (yes, seriously, they are infamous for their lack of friendliness - see http://www.gottshall.com/squirrels/campsq.htm - no, I am not one of the squirrel reporters and no, I did not stumble upon this while looking for squirrel removal tactics, my friend Jim hooked me on it). We have both black squirrels and gray squirrels. There are many of them and while they look harmless enough, do not be fooled. They will spring out of trash cans, attacking you when you are trying to be a good campus citizen keeping the place clean. Many's the morning when my 7 am campus greeting has been the swish of the squirrel flinging itself at me. They are there because they are foraging for scraps of food. Once, when a spring roll from the local Asian food delivery contained a rubber band, one of the squirrels nabbed the spring roll from the garbage, dragged it onto a picnic table, and began feasting. I tell you - these rodents thrive on plastic. Though I was tempted to try to save the poor creature from its rubber-eating fate, I decided I should not impose my human values about take-out quality on this creature. I suspect that's when the war began in earnest.

In our most recent battles, we have been beaten back harshly:

Squirrels 3 - Wiring Harnesses 0. Yes, these squirrels have gotten to (and destroyed) three wiring harnesses in lot L of the College Park campus. It's not safe - they stalk our cars looking for places to nest, tearing apart the innards of our cars. It has driven grown men to race across the parking lot, shouting and stomping feet, in an attempt to keep them from their evil ways.

Squirrels 4 - Flowers 0.  The Glen Burnie Park squirrels have declared war on my flower beds. They have ripped up my flower pots three times this season, seemingly immune to the natural, organic preventatives meant to keep them at bay. I have lovingly tended and replanted and the squirrels come back again. It's as if they are daring me to try something more difficult. And its not just me - they have been known to bring peanuts onto my neighbors porch and stand there staring, as if imploring them to turn away so they can bury the nut.

Can killer squirrels be far behind? I fear not. 

A coworker's response to the squirrel's question "Can't we all just get along?" was a resounding "NO!". I am dismayed to report that it appears this is true. It seems our cute furry friends have taken off their pilgrim costumes and gotten out their weapons of mass destruction.