When I took my first few steps outside today, I was very thankful in my choice of jeans and a sweatshirt. If it were only a few degrees colder, I would have definitely been able to see my breath.

Once I was deep into the forest of White Clay Creek, I huddled next to the hickory tree that I sat with every week. I already could note the changes that had occurred since my last visit a week prior. The layer of leaf litter on the ground was much thicker, and the soil was no longer visible. The yellows and oranges of autumn were far more prevalent than the greens of summer in the leaves that still clung on to the branches above. Oh how I loved autumn- it was a shame that it only happened once a year, as I wish I could experience the colors of the flora all year round. It was all the more to cherish though.

As I attempted to observe my surroundings, I was could not focus on much as the howling wind blew strongly through the forest. It not only made it much colder, but the usual light rustling of the leaves was now a loud roar. The song the trees sung was one that could not be ignored. The inclusion of the blend of colors also made the entire forest both look and sound like an uncontrollable blaze.

Down on the forest floor where I sat though, it was much calmer. When I could finally hone in on the ground, I noticed many ferns growing up and around some of the trees. These small fern patches were growing right where the light could bleed through the foliage above, so it was the only place they could possibly thrive in. They flicked to and fro from the breeze, and their waving motion was analogous to that of a deer flicking its tail. I don’t often find plants that amusing, but these ferns made me smile as they danced away.

Crunch!

            I immediately scanned the forest for the sudden rustling, looking for what was in lurking nearby. It had come from another patch of ferns, but it was then I saw a fluffy tail whipping around amongst the ferns. It had just been an eastern gray squirrel rummaging around.

I admit I was disappointed. How thrilling would it have been to see a fox or maybe a deer, but it was just another squirrel. Still though, I have to give the squirrel props for being one of the most abundant mammals in the entire forest. Even more impressive was that squirrels were by far the most well-adapted animals to life amongst humans, especially on the college campus that I lived on.

Being at the University of Delaware, my friends and I just called them UD squirrels. They were far plumper than their brothers in the forest, most likely because their diet consisted mostly of pizza, french fries, and whatever else they could get their paws on. Often, I would go to throw away my trash while I walked to class and a squirrel would be rummaging away inside the garbage can. They were also far from docile- they know that most people are not going to harm them, and that we were the source of much of their plentiful but malnutritious diet. Just a few weeks back two squirrels ran toward me in great haste, and while I expected them to flee from my feet, instead they nearly kicked them.

The forest-dwellers were not as reckless. David George Haskell, when a squirrel notices his presence in The Forest Unseen writes, “Its head is held tipped up, and the tail straightens parallel to the tree trunk. The squirrel watches. Then trembling waves agitate the tail. The fur on the tail flattens, turning a brush into an undulating fan” (194). The squirrel that I was looking at now was doing just the same, and quickly shot up into the canopy above. What I wish I could have heard was the “thumping” that Haskell describes hearing as a warning signal to other squirrels in the forest, but alas I heard nothing. Even he said that he has “never been quiet close or quiet enough to hear the sudden tapping” (195). I could only wish to be as observant as him- I required much more focus and patience.

I could, however, hear the rustling of other squirrels as at least two others jumped into the trees to join their friend. Their warning system was a very efficient one. I couldn’t help but think back to the UD squirrels though. They barely had enough trees and vegetation to thrive on campus, but they often seemed more solitary to me. If anything, they were far more ignorant of their surroundings. These urbanized squirrels were basically like people, and unaware to the world around them.

Unlike people though, they were not at the top of the food chain, and are still confined to this even on a college campus. During my first year of school at UD, I found the squirrels entertaining- there was even a squirrel nest right outside my window of my dorm room. As I walked back to my dorm one day though, a large pair of wings flew just a few feet above me and many other students that had just come out of class. It was a red-tailed hawk, and in his clutches was a nice stout squirrel, still squirming. The hawk could barely stay above crowd, and I was amazed when it flew into a tree to have its feast. It was a lesson though to the UD squirrels- you are never safe from predators.

And yet even under the continuous threat of hawks that have come to linger around campus now, the squirrels thrive. They can conform to any new environment, and in that respect, I have much admiration for the little rodents. In a world that has become human dominated, they are a clear indicator that nature will always find a way to survive, and even prosper in conditions that many other animals would find unsuitable and uninhabitable. Not the squirrel though. They are here to stay for many years to come.