Has the squirrel world really been "electrified"? (That must have hurt, wouldn't you think?)

Surely the most influential, not to mention heroic, squirrel in squirrel history was Rocky the Flying Squirrel, though some people might argue that even Rocky might not have made it big without benefit of his lovable-lunkhead moose companion.


"I care a lot about animal welfare issues. To me, the issue is how do you deal fairly or ethically with a creature whose priorities are so different than yours? They're not going to be your friend. You might establish some kind of relationship, but it's not a human friendship."

-- Etienne Benson, America's leading squirrel historian

by Ken

I know there will be an impulse to trivialize tonight's subject with sarcastic remarks like "WTF, squirrels?" or "Boy, this guy must really be hard up for something to write about." (Did it ever occur to you that the guy maybe just thinks readers may be more interested in squirrels than in most of the stuff he'd rather be writing about?)

But think about it: Who doesn't like a nice cute squirrel? Okay, a lot of people, including those who dismiss them as mere filthy rodents or as rats with better tails or with better fashion sense. I know one of those is Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw. The "better fashion sense" one sounds more Carrie-esque, doesn't it? But in any case, who elected Carrie the World's Smartest Authority?

So I'm just going to throw out this "Local" column by the Washington Post's John Kelly. Just to show how meager your store of squirrel lore probably is, did you know this? Is it any wonder that the squirrel world is electrified?

The basic misconception is the assumption that [squirrels] were always there in the city, or they came into cities of their own accord, when in fact they're there because we wanted them there in the first place. What really surprised me was the story of intentional introduction.

Didn't know that, did you? I'll go further: If this isn't the most important squirrel article you've read all this month, I'll happily refund your money.

America's city squirrels have humans to thank for giving them a home


When called to the White House to attend Cabinet meetings in 1922, officers of the Cabinet always remembered the squirrels. (Library of Congress)

By John Kelly, Published: April 5

Etienne Benson may be our country's leading squirrel historian, but he doesn't actually spend that much time watching squirrels. Instead, he watches people watching squirrels.

Benson is an assistant professor at the University of Pennsylvania. His recent article in the Journal of American History, "The Urbanization of the Eastern Gray Squirrel" in the United States," has electrified the squirrel world.

Well, it's electrified me anyway, exploring the forgotten history of the human-squirrel nexus in the United States. And it seems an especially good place to kick off my fourth annual Squirrel Week. All this week in my column, I'll be celebrating these lowly critters.

Benson trained as an environmental historian: Harvard University, Stanford University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He focuses on biodiversity, conservation and wildlife management, mainly with big animals, as exemplified in such papers as "Demarcating Wilderness and Disciplining Wildlife: Radiotracking Large Carnivores in Yellowstone and Chitwan National Parks."

So, why squirrels?

"I wanted to do a project that was a little closer to home," he said. "Also, I think on a personal level I was wanting to write about a landscape I was familiar with.

Benson is an assistant professor at the University of Pennsylvania. His recent article in the Journal of American History, "The Urbanization of the Eastern Gray Squirrel in the United States," has electrified the squirrel world.

Benson scoured newspapers from the 19th and early 20th centuries and consulted other primary sources to tease out how squirrels came to be so common in U.S. cities. He was surprised by what he found.

"The basic misconception is the assumption that [squirrels] were always there in the city, or they came into cities of their own accord, when in fact they're there because we wanted them there in the first place," he said. "What really surprised me was the story of intentional introduction."

Twice in the 19th century -- in the 1850s and then again 30 years later -- city leaders in places such as Boston, Philadelphia and New York released squirrels in the hope the animals would thrive. They even installed nest boxes and fed them regularly.

In his paper, Benson quotes an 1853 Philadelphia newspaper article describing how introducing squirrels and other animals would help turn public squares into "truly delightful resorts, affording the means of increasing enjoyment to the increasing multitudes that throng this metropolis."

At the time, squirrels were so rare in urban environments that when a pet squirrel escaped from a home in New York City in 1856 and sought refuge in a tree, it drew hundreds of excited onlookers.

While the earlier introduction efforts failed -- some cities culled the squirrels, concerned about their impact on birds and on potential tree damage -- the second ones took. Landscape architects such as Frederick Law Olmsted transformed cities with their natural park designs. With green spaces, squirrels could get a pawhold.

More squirrels meant more opportunities for people to do something they love to do: project upon another creature peculiar human obsessions. Americans read all sorts of things into the behaviors and motivations of squirrels.

Because they adopt an almost prayerful posture when begging for food, squirrels were thought to encourage charitable impulses. Benson writes: "The squirrels' readiness to trust humans and their ability to flourish in the heart of the city seemed to make them living proof of the rewards of extending charity and community beyond the bounds of humanity."

In the case of young boys, feeding squirrels was encouraged, since it was seen as a way of rechanneling energy "from aggression and vandalism toward compassion and charity."

But as the 20th century progressed, opinions about how humans should behave toward squirrels changed. The shift was part of a larger conversation about ecology. Just as you shouldn't feed the bears in Yellowstone, so you shouldn't feed the squirrels in Lafayette Square.

"To me there are some pretty fundamental ethical questions that also get raised," Benson said. "On the one hand, I think the people who were feeding squirrels and introducing squirrels and trying to prevent young boys from torturing them had laudable goals."

But on the other, Benson said, those goals are based on profound misunderstandings, chief among them that squirrels think of the compact we've entered into the same way we do, that they experience gratitude. It's a quandary that scales up to other animals that have fractious relationships with humans, from wolves to whales.

"I care a lot about animal welfare issues," Benson said. "To me, the issue is how do you deal fairly or ethically with a creature whose priorities are so different than yours? They're not going to be your friend. You might establish some kind of relationship, but it's not a human friendship."

To see what happens when that relationship goes sour, tune in for Monday's column: Squirrels vs. humans at a Fairfax County golf course.

Squirrels on the golf course? Oh wow! And yes, any of this material could turn up on the midterm.




If you want to see footnote 1, you'll have to check out the online-posted version of the article.

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