Meeting Persephone

Scientists in the US have come upon a way to rid us of pesky squirrels. They've discovered a way to administer birth control to those fuzzy little acrobats to deplete the population thus thrilling people who are annoyed by them. And apparently the animal activists are also happy with this solution because it doesn't involve violence against the squirrels - it's "humane".

I'm confused. How can you be annoyed by squirrels? How can people have decided that they have the right to rid themselves of anything that exists in nature? What do squirrrels do that is so bothersome that to get rid of them seems a completely acceptable solution?

When I was a girl I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' cabin. The first stay that I can remember was when I was about 4 years old. We'd arrived at the cabin and I helped my grandmother unpack the supplies she'd brought - pinochle cards, food, beer, and other things. Unsalted peanuts were among the provisions that we unpacked. When I inquired about them, my grandmother told me that they were for "Charlie". My little mind tried to think of who "Charlie" was. I ran through the list of names of all the family members who were going to be at the cabin but couldn't think of any of them named "Charlie". "Is he a friend of yours?" I asked. Grandma dragged a chair over to the kitchen sink and helped me to step up onto it so I could see out of the window that faced the back "yard" of the cabin. She pointed her pretty crooked finger out toward an old stump that sat by itself in the center of the grasses and surrounded by tall trees. "Now watch," she said. After a few minutes a beautiful red squirrel jumped up on the stump, sniffed around, flicked its bright bushy tail, and scampered off. I gasped excitedly. "That's 'Charle'," Grandma told me.

That weekend it was my job to keep the stump covered with unsalted peanuts for "Charlie". I thrilled watching him jump up and eat the food that I was leaving for him. We went on walks where Grandma would teach me about the little wildflowers though wouldn't allow me to pick them, showed me the way stones changed color as the water ran over it in the creek, and insisted that I stay on the paths that had been made rather than run all over the wild grasses that grew. As soon as we got back to the cabin I'd rush out and replenish the peanut supply on the stump. Each night as I'd go to bed, I'd say goodnight to "Charlie".

Then the sad day came when my parents were taking my little brother and me back to our home. I sat out on the stone-covered well with the iron top and stared at the stump watching several "Charlies" (and probably more than a few "Charlenes" and "Charlottes") jumping up, sniffing around, flicking their tails, and scampering off. Big fat tears rolled down my face. I couldn't bear the idea of leaving "Charlie" behind. My dad came to tell me it was time to go. He tried to comfort me a bit but his patience wore thin quickly and I was inconsolable. Finally, he dragged me off of the well and pulled me to the car. I looked at Grandma, imploring her with my eyes to take care of "Charlie", she nodded knowingly to me, I nodded back, sniffling, but appeased. And then we left.

For weeks after that I asked about "Charlie" every time I talked to my grandmother. "Oh, honey, he's doing just fine but I think he misses you," she would tell me. I missed him too. He'd been my friend and my first real connection with compassion for that which surrounds us. My grandmother taught me so much about those things.

Now every squirrel I see is still "Charlie" to me. I watch them frolicking, running up trees, searching for food and I smile. The idea that I share space in this world with people that don't care about their existence does shake me to the core. I can't understand people who don't see the fun and beauty of them.

They remind me of the people who clear out trees around a pond or lake, build large homes, and then put up devices designed to keep all water fowl away from their yards because they "make a mess and too much noise". They are taking over the habitat of the birds, not for a purpose (they don't use the water except for their own view or recreation), but they kick these animals out of the area that animals rely on for food, water, survival. Because they're entitled? These same people are the types that dress their dogs in costumes and rhinestone studded collars because they are pleased with them and entertained by them. They don't appreciate the feral nature of that which surrounds them, they seek to tame it and force it into submission.

Sometimes I'm embarrassed to be a human being in this day and age.