Nina In New York: A Secret War Waged In The Parks of NYC (And Why It May Be All Your Fault)
A young professional's take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.
______________________
By Nina Pajak
There is a war going on in this city. No, it's not political. And it's not religious. It isn't ethnic either, nor is it in any way about bike lanes (please don't start).
No, this war is interspecific. And many people have already chosen sides.
Dog vs. Squirrel. Where do you stand?
Here's how the conflict breaks down, briefly: Dogs want to eat squirrels. Squirrels don't want to get eaten. There are shades of gray, of course, as there are in any war. Some dogs just want to kill the squirrels and not eat them. Some squirrels are rabid and want to bite the dogs. Some dogs just want to maim the squirrels a little, and then there are some that know they want the squirrel but don't have any big plans for once they succeed.
See Also: A NYC Dog Owner's Guide | NYC's Best Little-Known Parks
Okay, you may be saying: this is nothing new. And you're right. Dogs have been chasing squirrels since time immemorial, and squirrels have been running away for just as long. This much is undeniably true. But I believe that the situation right here in New York City is an exceptional one, and could change the way this game is played. And not in a good way. Things are escalating in an unnatural way, and it's all our fault. That's the royal "we" form, by the way. I do not in any way associate myself with the group of people who are responsible for this distortion of species interrelations.
You see, there are some—no one I know personally, of course—who spend a fair amount of time sitting in the park and feeding the squirrels. I don't know why they do it. Maybe they find it entertaining, maybe it satisfies some benevolent urge, or maybe they know exactly the trouble they're causing. I for one think if you're going to feed the squirrels, you may as well feed the rats, too. And the thing is, they don't just feed them by throwing some breadcrumbs around. They hand-feed them. I've seen it with my own two eyes! People hold their hands out and wait for the squirrels to come up reeeeeal close and snatch the food away in their little rodent hands. So as a result of this bizarre behavior, my park is now populated by fat, greedy, entitled squirrels who have absolutely no fear of human beings.
The squirrels also seem to have some understanding of the limitations of the city dog's ability to catch them. Perhaps they see the leashes or comprehend the meaning of a fence, or maybe they're just courageous little freaks made cocksure by their close contact with people. I don't know. But it is extremely apparent that they deliberately taunt their sworn enemies for fun. They sit on the lowest branch or just out of reach on the grass and stare, unblinking, directly into the eyes of their would-be predators. They don't so much as flinch when a dog makes a desperate lunge or barks incessantly. I can almost hear them going "na na na na na" and giggling hysterically like some much creepier, more flea-ridden version of those rascally rodents, Chip and Dale. Though I think they were chipmunks, which are kind of like squirrels but admittedly cuter. Not so cute I'd want one tearing apart my Christmas tree, though. Chipmunk punks.
Anyway! I've been watching this battle play out from the sidelines and marveling at the developing brazenness and tactical sophistication of the opposing side. I'm okay with it. As much as I don't want a squirrel eating out of my palm, I also don't particularly want Gus or any other dog to manage to catch and kill one. Blech. But the other day when Gus and I were leaving the dog run, everything changed. He'd played himself silly, and about halfway up the path out of the park he decided to collapse onto his belly and take a rest. I was pleading and cajoling him into standing and continuing on when I noticed his ears perk up. Something had caught his eye behind me. I turned, expecting to see another dog or a leaf blowing in the breeze, and instead saw a squirrel staring at us with determination and making his way steadily towards us! I yelled and tried to pull on Gus's leash to get him up, which only caused him to roll over onto his back. The squirrel subtly quickened his pace, never taking his eyes off of the dog. I began to panic, visions of rabies shots and stitches clouding my brain. I yelled and stamped my feet and yanked on the leash, but he still kept coming. Finally, when he was no more than a foot away, his tail went bushy and he made a quick about-face up a tree.
"That squirrel was crazy!" cackled a crazy lady who passed by.
I scooped Gus up and hurried out of the park, shaken. I realized that squirrel wasn't rabid at all. If he was, he wouldn't have spooked. No, this was a fierce warrior squirrel, ready possibly to sacrifice his life in order to be The One to change the war forever. Thank goodness he lost his nerve. This time.
Nature never intended for the squirrels to rise up and begin willfully tangling with canines. Things are as they should be. The world is already apocalyptic enough without a revolution in the urban rodent community.
So please, the next time you feel the urge to let a wild animal eat from your fingers, resist. Get a parakeet or a pet mouse or something. I don't know, do what you've got to do. Get a grip. The balance of the natural order lies in your hands. (Literally.)
_________________________
Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I'm always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.
Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
The Nina Archives:
More MTA Shenanigans! And By Shenanigans, I Mean Nudity.
Thanks But No Thanks, Holiday Travel
What Exactly Is A 'Stowaway' Anyway?
Back At The Gym, And Paying The Price
I'm Back, And I'm Not Going Anywhere. Until I Go On Another Trip.
