The squirrels are busy these days.
I watch them scamper back and forth along the fence. Racing to the right, then tiptoeing back, their mouths stretched open to the limit, stuffed with a nut treasure, determined to bury it as soon as possible.
I admire their dedication to choosing the perfect spot. They sometimes choose my backyard to bury a nut, and I’ll watch them spend up to an hour sampling the soil in different places. Pawing this, gnawing that. It must be the perfect place, fit for this perfect nut.
Once I saw a squirrel stand over his chosen spot, nut in hand. He rolled it round and round with his little claws, gnawing it for unknown reasons.1 It seemed he was whispering to it, reciting a prayer to keep his treasure safe.
Have you ever wondered what happens to all the nuts squirrels bury? I have.
Turns out, they forget about more than half of them. Yes, really! It’s no wonder too, given how many they’d need to remember—gray squirrels, for example, bury anywhere from three to ten thousand nuts per season. They practice what is called ‘scatter hoarding,’ distributing their treasures in various spots throughout their territory.
Now comes the interesting part: These forgotten nuts do not just disappear. They grow into oak trees. And so the distribution of oak trees, the spreading of their seed, and in turn, the flourishing of forests, is all thanks to the forgetfulness of a squirrel!2
Who knew such a tiny creature could create such a giant?
So the next time you see a squirrel, do not wrinkle your eyebrows in annoyance, for they are the very reason you are shaded where you stand.
Remember them, and consider returning the favor. Offer some water in a bowl, or if like me you happen to have a bird bath, put something next to it so squirrels can get a drink.
It’s the least we can do to honor these little wizards that wander our fields. The oak trees they’ve planted have kept us all cool for centuries.
P.S. You might have noticed: I’m back on Substack. It was a decision made mostly out of exhaustion—I’ve been having issues with spam subscribers on Buttondown, and after many months of working with their team to fix it, they still haven’t resolved it, and well, I’m tired. Also, Substack is free, and it really doesn’t make sense for me to pay Buttondown $25/month for this free newsletter. So, here we are again. I must admit it’s kind of nice to be back on the platform where I started writing almost six years ago, in the innocent before times of 2019:
Little did I know how much the world would change, only a few months later…
Until next time,
—Salman Ansari
Apparently they are gnawing off the tops where the embryo of the nut is located—this delays germination and keeps it fresh and tasty for longer.
It’s not just squirrels. Blue jays and other birds also play a similar role!