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Squirrel War
I was riding today, doing a typical training ride on the much vaunted Chicane Loop. i created this loop, which is perfect for interval training and wildlife observation. On any given day, one might observe any of the following: wild turkeys, red tail hawks, coyotes, fox, peacocks, rabbits, chipmunks, deer, turkey vultures, bald eagles, and of course, squirrels. I have seen all of these animals in this small rectangle which measures around 3.4 miles from start to finish and includes a tree lined, shaded, sharp downhill chicane which runs past a 19th century cemetery, over a creek crossing, blindly around a right-hander and into a short, steep uphill run into a gravelly left hander which delivers you into an inevitable headwind and a choice: continue straight and ride around in the wind and fields of Whitestown and zionsville (which is really not a bad thing), or make a right turn and experience the awesome wonder and sometimes angry reality of the Chicane Loop. The thing has been my training partner on countless VO2 and threshold efforts during which I have experienced much anguish and terrible pain. I use it as a tool. It is a tool. It is a very sharp tool which is capable of transforming a normal human being into a vicious, overdriven machine which punches its way onto the edge of physical limits and blasts holes in those limits with sheer force of will and stubborn idealism. The person who rides the chicane loop as it is meant to be ridden will become faster, stronger, and possibly sociopathic. But…such is the state of mind of many of the greatest bicycle racers of all time, a group to which I certainly do not belong.
Having said all that…STAY AWAY FROM MY LOOP! And, most importantly, do not disturb the squirrels. They very obviously run the show over there. And there certainly is a show. And there certainly is a chain of command among the wildlife on the Loop. All I can tell you about it is that when the squirrels are present in any of their sectors, the rest of the animals either flee or cower in fear and avert their eyes. The squirrels, you see, are warmongers. I will attempt to explain what I mean by relating a scene into which I inadvertently rode today (so back to the ride I began to explain at the start of this thing). It was so disturbing I hesitated to finish my ride. For one thing, as I approached a section of road I had been on hundreds of times before, I was suddenly beset, on all sides, by squirrels. They were clearly communicating with each other very loudly with what can only be described as high-pitched bitching. And they were getting themselves organized. I slowed down so as not to hit one of them with my bike and suddenly found myself surrounded by the angry buggers. There were at least thirty of them on the ground and probably another 200 in the trees surrounding our little battlefield. i use the term “battlefield” with certainty because these squirrels were very quickly organizing into regiments and platoons and I think I even saw one sitting in the crook of a tree with half a walnut shell that he had gnawed into a sharp, spear-like object.
I came to a stop and sort of froze where i was in the middle of the road. There were huge maple trees on either side of the road and a lot of dogwoods and those scrubby little cyprus bushes lining the roadside. Plenty of cover for the army which was quickly organizing and getting ready to start some shit. The sky was overcast and it was very humid outside. I was sweating from my previous efforts on the loop and the sweat dripped conspicuously in the road all around me. I wanted to wipe the sweat from my brow but I was terrified to move. I saw a few turkey vultures sitting about thirty meters away in another yard. They looked on with a knowing resignation… a sort of lazy acceptance that something was about to happen and when it was over, there would be food. The squirrels seemed to have made the best of their limited IQs and were organized into groups of varying sizes all around me. I was genuinely afraid at this point as I noticed several other “snipers” hiding in the trees with sharpened walnut shells that seemed to be aimed at me. But then…something happened that changed my perspective on this bizarre scene.
One of the snipers suddenly let loose with his projectile but it sailed right past my left ear and into the left thigh of one of the squirrels on the opposite side of the road. The injured squirrel squealed in agony and began running quickly around in circles with blood streaming out of his wound and as he did so, he produced a flag from a pouch attached to the other leg and waved it violently over his head. One of the other squirrels in a different group on the same side of the road flew into a rage and issued forth the loudest, angriest tirade of squeals and chirps i have ever heard from one of these bushy-tailed bullies. He motioned franticly at all of the other groups on his side of the road and they all suddenly charged forth into the road and right past me toward the other side. At the same time, the squirrels on the opposite side of the road began to charge as well. I suddenly realized that I was not in danger at all (except from errant projectiles or possibly one of the larger ones jumping onto my head from an overhead branch). Now my only problem was how to extract myself from this furry and very vocal chaos. The beasts were literally all around me and fighting in earnest, using every weapon at their disposal, including claws, sharpened sticks and walnut shells, and even teeth. The squeaks and chattering were deafening and I decided I had better get the hell out of there asap or I would soon be surrounded by a bunch of dead squirrels and hungry turkey vultures. Those wily bastards had probably seen this sort of thing many times and were simply waiting a little way off for the violence to cease so they could eat in peace.
Just as I was about to make a break for it, a huge brown labrador retriever came barreling through this grizly scene and all the squirrels suddenly scattered as fast as possible to the nearest trees. The lab began hungrily gobbling up the victims scattered across the road…barely even noticing me standing there. The turkey vultures began to walk slowly toward the area but were clearly pissed off about the presence of the dog. i decided to ride away and finish my loop but as soon as I clipped in and began to pedal, I heard the distinct sound of a very high-pitched voice speaking english in a broken, squeaky sort of manner. I turned around and scanned the trees from where I thought the sound came and my gaze came to rest on one of the biggest squirrels who had been present. He wore a red scarf tied around his left leg, which was soaked in blood and I instantly recognized him as the squirrel who had been injured by the walnut shell. I really just thought i heard a squeak which sounded a bit like some words but then he repeated what he had said. He said “thank you, outlander, for staying neutral during the battle…but the time for neutrality will soon be over and you must pick a side.” He looked at me as if he was looking right through me. The thousand-inch stare. I’ve seen it before. It was on this rabbit that comes and eats our radishes in the summer. Bugger. Anyway i looked back at him and nodded slowly in agreement and with a fist-to-chest gesture, I pledged my allegiance to this majestic leader of squirrels who had sustained a terrible wound but persevered to lead his army in a bloody confrontation over….hell, I don’t know. Maybe some walnuts? Or maybe territory? A long-standing feud like the Hatfields and McCoys? These things ran through my mind for maybe twenty seconds before I turned my gaze away and rode on.
I often thing about that terrible scene and wonder if Girple (that is what he told me his name was) is still alive and if he is still leading his army in pursuit of, uh…something or other. It really doesn’t matter in the long run because squirrels only live around five to ten years and most die before they reach adulthood. Also they have very small brains and probably forget things very easily and quickly. Silly little varmints…
I finished my ride lost in thought so I imagine I was going pretty slow. But a profound experience like that demands some contemplation…some introspection. It causes a person to examine his life and make an honest and earnest search for an ideology worth fighting for. Worth dying for. The squirrels all have this. Why can’t we?
