There have been very few times in my life that I have been asked to interact with squirrels. Generally, I view squirrels in the same way that the customers I sell pellet guns to view squirrels; adorable tree rats that torment the community of people who enjoy having a pecan tree or a bird feeder in their yard. Last week in Ecology class, however, I spent more time entertaining myself with squirrels than I ever thought I would. To be honest though, I’m not sure many people expect to spend two hours of their day attempting to record the eating habits of squirrels.
Armed with data sheets, two cups of acorns (of the red oak and white oak varieties), and measuring tape (to see just how far a squirrel is going to go to bury the remains of his meal), my group and I began trekking around the park in search of a squirrel willing to be a guinea pig for our experiments. It is probably necessary to mention, however, that it was rather apparent that no one in my group had any practice calling squirrels. It’s probably not unusual to lack that skill, it’s likely that most people do, but I’m sure we all wished that we were more practiced squirrel callers after the fifth squirrel ran from us instead of towards us.
We wandered around the park, searching for squirrels. It was even more discouraging for us when we found pecan trees where squirrels were abundant and none of them wanted anything to do with us despite our offerings of acorns.
After what seemed like an hour of searching but was probably only thirty minutes, we found our squirrel A. Squirrel A, hereafter dubbed ‘Buddy’ because of his amiable nature, was one greedy squirrel. He didn’t seem to care that how close we were so long as we kept throwing acorns at him. He ate them and cached them so fast that my first few recordings on his activities are hackneyed and only semi-finished. We never got a chance to accurately measure how far he went to bury his nuts and all of our recorded data are guesses. Buddy would always take the top off of whatever acorn he was given if it had one, regardless of whether or not he was going to eat it, and he never seemed to eat the whole acorn. Buddy would eat half or less of each acorn and then shove the rest of the nut in the mud. At first, Buddy was running about twenty feet away to stash his prizes, but he soon gave up that effort and ran only about five feet away to bury his leftovers. He definitely wanted to be near his new food source.
Before we knew it, we had eight pages of notes and had spent approximately thirty minutes tossing nuts at Buddy and watching him eat, bury, or ignore them. Buddy was quite the willing test subject. As we continued feeding him, we noticed another squirrel nearby watching our efforts with Buddy. We tried to engage him, but squirrel B simply ignored us and ran away. We shrugged off the insult of squirrel B’s behavior and continued feeding Buddy, our new best friend. After about twenty minutes, which we spent happily feeding Buddy, squirrel B came back. However, squirrel B’s intentions were not quite as innocent as we had thought. Squirrel B will hereafter be known as Jack because of his….donkey-ish behavior.
We watched in horror as Jack attacked Buddy in the cutest display of violence I have ever seen. They hissed and fought for a few seconds, but soon they lost interest and Buddy, apparently the loser of the tiny fight, decided to move about five feet away from us to let Jack have his turn at test subject. We decided to try and feed Jack and Buddy at the same time since we needed the data and, even though we were upset that Jack had been a jerk, we still needed data and two guinea pigs are better than one. Buddy was still greedy as ever and he gobbled up the white oak acorns we tossed to him (it seems that Buddy’s favorite kind of acorn is a white oak acorn because he ate those ravenously and only nibbled on the red oaks before shoving them into the dirt).
Jack is a jerk. This is something we made known to everyone in class and I will reiterate the statement several more times before this narrative is over. Jack stood in the same place Buddy had been standing while we fed him, but Jack was not nearly as cooperative. Where Buddy was the perfect test subject, Jack was the worst. We would toss Jack an acorn, several acorns actually, and he would simply stare at us. After a few minutes (during those few minutes we were able to feed Buddy an acorn or three) Jack would grab an acorn off the ground and nibble on it for a while. Jack would rarely grab the acorn we had actually thrown to him, so we usually had no idea how to chart the type of acorn he was eating. Jack was a jerk. As we tossed acorns to him and Buddy, if became very apparent that feeding Jack was not beneficial to our records because we couldn’t chart his habits, outside of the few times he went to store his nuts. We had to guess nearly everything for Jack.
After a while Buddy, probably feeling neglected because of our efforts with Jack, left and soon after our best friend left so did we. We didn’t leave, however, before we saw Jack go to the spot where Buddy had been caching his acorns and steal one. Jack is the worst squirrel there ever was.