ONCE UPON A TIME …
… there existed an organization called the Squirrel Census. It was founded in Atlanta, GA, USA, by a Lab-Aussie canine named Sophie, a freelance chaser who was obsessed with Eastern gray squirrels. Eventually, her obsession jumped species to humans, and the Squirrel Census team was formed. Their mission: They would tally and observe and officially acknowledge the common Eastern gray, one of the most overlooked animals on the planet.
Team members of the Squirrel Census included a writer, an artist, a wildland firefighter, a logistics chief, a squirrel scientist, and a cartographer. They also worked with designers, vets, park people, generous sponsors, schools, and other organizations.
And then there were the (human and canine) volunteer Squirrel Sighters, hundreds of them, who gave their spare time, energy, and spirit to help the Squirrel Census. From 2012 to 2021, from Atlanta to New York City and beyond, the Squirrel Census held squirrel counts in urban green spaces and neighborhoods, and they presented their findings to the public in the form of comprehensive maps and other data visualizations, stories, reports, web sites, videos, live presentations, and other media. (See 2012, 2016, 2019, and their latest 2022 presentation.)
Among many truths, they found the following:
At any given time, there are between 861 and 928 squirrels, approximately, in the neighborhood of Inman Park in Atlanta, or about 5.7 to 6.14 squirrels per hectare.
There are exactly 2,373 squirrels in Central Park, NY, NY, or about 6.78 squirrels per hectare.
There are a lot of people who ask, “Why?” and, “How do you know you’re not counting the same squirrel twice?”
There are a lot of people who say, “Sure, why not? I’ll count squirrels with you.” These people are also called Life Poets.
Squirrels are pretty and handsome and cute. They are intelligent, sentient beings; they have complex feelings. They manipulate humans through the positioning of their forepaws while standing upright (Single Paw Tuck (SPT) or Double Paw Tuck (DPT) into breast), as well as the stare of their black-black eyes: begging, questioning, worrying, etc.
Squirrels take chances. They squeak. They wrestle. They tease. They love. They laugh in private. They understand that life is fleeting. Live now! is the Unofficial Squirrel Motto. They are not afraid to cry.
There are many more findings and observations about squirrels (and people, and life), available in Squirrel Census Reports.
Along the way, the Squirrel Census team became millionaires by counting squirrels. The money’s all gone now, but it was a wild ride …
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Other accomplishments and memories that will never fade: The Squirrel Census built community, and made friends, and created positive energy, and fell in love, and reminded people that it was okay to experience joy. They were the love connection for at least one couple that is now married! They probably broke up some people, too. They were like Fleetwood Mac, actually, having inter-team affairs and fights (two team members even threatening to kill each other at one point), and then they wrote songs about it. They made videos of their adventures, and these videos were somewhat true.
Also, they offered the casual reminder that parks are places to be explored and celebrated, casually or with requisite intention.
They debated the usage of “literally” and laughed at a lot of people who used it incorrectly. They found the increasing usage of the word “intentional” — “I was very intentional in how I dressed today.” — to also serve as a source of humor. (“As opposed to dressing accidentally?!?”)
And oh yeah, the squirrels – they’re pretty cool, too, if you stop to look at them. Sure, they’re not the Coolest Animal on the Planet, and maybe not even on your personal Top 50 Animals of All-Time List. But yes, all in all, to the general public, they’re “pretty cool.”
Maybe also squirrels are something more. As we humans have surrounded ourselves with cement and steel and technology, insulated ourselves from the wilds we once knew, squirrels are one of the few animals that are still willing to live with us, that even can live with us. By doing that, by offering their presence, by simply being there and caroming through trees and eating nuts so cutely and spazzing out and then staring off into space, and even dying the most melodramatic deaths beneath the unforgiving wheels of autos or stabbed and beheaded by the serial-killer hawks, they remind us of our antecedent selves, of our very nature. If we are willing, they connect us to, and make us curious about, that mammal and that mammal and that mammal. They are, in essence, the gateway animal to learning about, caring about, other animals, all animals, the planet, and their/our place here.
Once, actually, heh heh, there was a certain squirrel that liked to sing opera. When he was discovered by the Squirrel Census, they held a presentation during which said opera-squirrel performed a rendition of “Madamina” from Don Giovanni, to the delight and amazement of all gathered. And that was just one thing.
The Squirrel Census stood up for monkeys and pandas. They helped dads bond with their children. They made local neighborhood committees and other organizations go, “You wanna do what?” They gave moms something to crush hard on. They sang, “Be a squirrel with me!/ Be it! Be it!” to the tune of Nirvana’s “Aneurysm.” They killed off one of their Squirrel Census teammates, for fun, then brought him back to life, without much of an explanation. (#stewarthaddocklives) They burned a wooden squirrel and called it Burning Squirrel. They remembered everyone’s birthdays. They hung out with explorers. They got booed. They lost themselves; they found themselves. They sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” at Tavern on the Green. They created a Live Map of Squirrel Sightings Around the World. They made a 45-RPM record. They held record-listening parties. They entered The Great Tote Bag Wars. They took part in a Soho art show. They held a cartwheel competition. They promoted an ordinary Squirrel Sighter to Alpha Squirrel Sighter and then Chargé d’Affaires, Northeastern Region. They promoted another Squirrel Sighter to Alpha Squirrel Sighter and then to Chief Squirrel Correspondent. They even held an anti-TED Talk TED Talk!
This is all true. (Except for the millionaire part, IRS people!)
(Actually, we’re still in debt. You can donate to our cause here, and 100 percent of it will be used to pay off our Squirrel Census bills.)
This one time, in 2018, the Squirrel Census led a count of all the squirrels in Central Park, NY, NY, a two-week-long endeavor powered by 323 volunteers and covered by the big-timey media outlets. After collecting the data, they created the most comprehensive map of New York City’s Central Park in the last 70+ years. And then for kicks, they drew another map of Central Park, plotting the locations and noting fur coloration, activities, and bizarro behavior of over 2,000 City squirrels. (If you’re still asking, “Why?” or “How?”, kindly leave this website.)
To wit, a few sample observations of squirrels:
“sort of lunged at me with his torso”
“rubbing its face after digging, the way a human would spread lotion on her face”
“flailing his arms out”
“jumping around and looking almost as if it was chasing the sparrows for fun”
“jumping in circles and digging frantically, kind of like a Tasmanian devil”
“would come up and fight the pigeons”
Another time, there was a video taken by the Squirrel Census that captured an unnamed mama squirrel in Central Park — who very well could have been the offspring of the great Josephine “Lil’ Jo” Dogwood Squirrel, who led the Great Squirrel Migration of 1968 (Look it up!). This mama squirrel was teaching her child squirrel how to wrestle. There was playfulness in her way, but you could also see in the mama’s eyes, maybe, an unyielding distress that her child would one day have to fend for himself or herself against hawk, falcon, raccoon, tomcat, silly dog, automobile. Nature can be cruel. But this mama-child moment was warm and sweet.
Yep. Squirrels are pretty cool, and the Squirrel Census spent over eight years counting them, and talking about them, and writing about them, and presenting about them, and making friends and living life to the fullest. What a time to be alive, as someone once said.
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On what might be their final adventure, the team led a single-afternoon count of all or portions of 24 New York City parks. It happened on March 1, 2020. It was a brisk and sunny day in the City. Seventy-two volunteers took part. Four hundred and thirty-three squirrel sightings were tallied. The methodology was less focused on total squirrel numbers per hectare and more attuned to the stories — of squirrels, humans, and parks. There was that one gang of squirrels that fought off a hawk that was trying to eat them in Marcus Garvey Park. There were sightings of lovers and potholes, trash bags in trees and fish in frozen ponds. One dog was accused by its owner of being “drunk.” There was evident, in the people sighted, that wild mosaic of fashions, interests, and backgrounds that make New York City New York City. There were squirrels acting spastic and suspicious and even “dead?” There were cinnamon squirrels (Do you “wanna be with a cinnamon squirrel” now?), black squirrels, gray squirrels tinged with cinnamon and black, and black squirrels with cinnamon highlights. Two Sighters counted 51 squirrels in Washington Square Park, and another two Sighters (including the spouse of one of the Washington Square Sighters) rounded up 59 (!) squirrels in little ol’ Tompkins Square Park — which, to be honest, makes one think, like, “Were both parties a little high?”
But the Squirrel Census stands by the data.
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This (perhaps) final count took place as That Virus closed in on the fair City. One moment, everyone was hanging out in parks, standing next to each other, high-fiving, chewing on pencils, handing said chewed-on pencils to their fellow Sighters, making friends, interacting with squirrels, wondering where to get a hot chocolate, and basically enjoying themselves with an outlook so carefree that they didn’t even know this carefree outlook existed; the next, the City was emptying, terrified, quiet except for sirens and other dismaying sounds echoing into the night. Suddenly, we were living in “The After.”
Which is to say, we have one more record of what it was like in “The Before.” All of the data gathered and recorded on tally sheets that day paints a profile of City parks (and squirrels, and humans) before everything changed. The Census team has poured over the data. They have picked out the highlights, and they are currently building a web page that displays it all in Squirrel Census fashion.
This is, in short, like the trailer for the movie: The data presentation is “Coming Soon.” Get your popcorn and Sno-Caps™ and 60-oz soda ready. Find and settle into your seats. Squeeze your partner’s hand, and give them that look that says, “I’m glad to be here right now.” Kiss 'em! The lights are gonna dim soon!
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Hey, you might be asking, waitaminnit. Why are you talking about the Squirrel Census as if it is, perhaps, no longer a thing? (Also, why are you talking about it in the third-person plural? We know it’s you!) But back to the original question: Is the Squirrel Census finished? Is it over?
Doesn’t the world need more of this?
Won’t all those squirrels miss being told that they are “pretty cool”?
Where are you going?!?
Is this … it?
Answer: The one simple rule that the Squirrel Census maintains: They can do whatever they want to do, and no one can tell them any different. So if they want to say goodbye in third-person plural, and then decide to come back and count all the Eastern grays in London (not a bad idea!), that’s what they’ll do (if someone sponsors them!). If they want to stop counting squirrels but still make records and write poetry, that’s what they’ll do. If they want to fly one of those skywriting planes over the City, puffing out a message of hope, guess what they’ll do?
In other words, even if they don’t tally a single squirrel again, they will still be bringing joy. Look for it. You’ll find it! (And in the meantime, why don’t you download the iPhone Squirrel Sighter App and start sighting squirrels? Every time you sight a squirrel on the app, the data flies through the atmosphere until it reaches the antenna at Squirrel Census HQ, and the electro-data runs down the antenna until it meets with a Squirrel Census computer, and a little bell on the computer jingles. Do it! (And if you don’t have an iPhone, that’s your problem!))
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Hey Hey Hey, you might be asking, waitaminnit. WHAT ABOUT SOPHIE, QUEEN CANINE WHO STARTED THIS WHOLE THING? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?
Well. Hats off, please. Because that’s when Squirrel Census people get a far-off look in their eyes and whisper, “Sweet Girl.”
First of all, along with inspiring the Squirrel Census — all that it became, and all who connected with it around the world — Sophie sighted and chased more squirrels than can be counted. With a sterling 14-year-career, coupled with her undeniable influence on the game, she earned a first-ballot election into the Canine Hall of Fame.
One week after the Central Park Squirrel Census finished the counting phase in October 2018, at age 15, Sophie decided her work was done here, and she passed to the Other Side. As she left behind her earthly binds, she was held by her two owners who had adopted her from the Human Society as a gift for their daughter. There was nothing to do but be there with her (while crying really hard), tell her that she was a good girl, assure her that she had changed lives. She must have sensed in their words and touch, in the way dogs sense more than we know, that she left behind something valuable and lasting, powered by her curious spirit: to look look look around.
Do you see? Do you see them? They’re everywhere, in plain sight. Chase them. Run for them as fast as you can. Even if they get away, chase every idea that moves you. And find thrill in each glorious run.
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Wait, one more thing: Never give up! Never give up hope!
We are here! We, being the Squirrel Census, and having just changed from third-person plural to first-person plural! We are here for you, and yes, we love you! Like, really love. We are in love with you. We will never let you go.
We are a squirrel, curled up, so cute and sleeping, a lil pup nestled in your heart. Cradle us. Smell our squirrel-pup breath.
Further, we are the Hearth and the Firewood and the Fire and the Smoke and the Smell and the Warmth and the Indigo Night. The world is a good place, and there are more of us — the good ones — than there are of them.
Feeling down? Email us!
And stay tuned …